Chapter 5 Not Yet Free
NOT YET FREE
We should’ve escaped yesterday. Now we wouldn’t leave with our lives.
I froze at the head of the staircase.
A fae stood in the foyer, his armor gleaming like teeth. Another Runecloak lingered beyond the threshold, helmet tucked under his arm. But it was the third figure that made my blood freeze—the executioner, just inside the doorway.
No one moved.
Henrik seemed frozen. Even Taryn kept her mouth shut, her usual arrogance dimmed by the presence of death standing in their home.
That crimson mist coiling around his shoulders.
The gauntlets stained with gods knew how many executions.
Everyone knew what he was, and no one wanted to be the first to draw his attention.
“Lord Henrik, Lady Taryn.” The soldier finally broke the silence. “Forgive the intrusion.”
“Captain.” Henrik’s voice came out steady, but his body tensed. “To what do we owe this…visit?”
“There was trouble in the merchant quarter,” the captain said quickly. “We’re speaking with all households.”
“I see.” Henrik balled his fists. “And the Crown’s executioner personally investigates incidents now?”
The executioner tilted his head slightly.
“Orders from above, my lord,” the captain said carefully. “Given the unusual nature of the offense.”
Henrik crossed his arms. “What sort of offense?”
“A disturbance two nights ago.”
“Rather vague, Captain.”
The soldier shuffled his feet. “There was some strange activity at the market today. A servant girl acting suspiciously, running from the Arathi steward.”
Henrik’s eyebrows rose. “And this concerns us how?”
“We’re simply being thorough, my lord. Your household staff might have seen something useful.”
Henrik glanced at Taryn. “Our girls rarely leave the house.”
“Even so, my lord. A few questions, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Very well.” He turned to the stairs. “Aelie! Get your sister and come downstairs.”
Rheya gripped my arm, and I dug in my heels.
“Run, and they’ll hunt us.”
“What are we supposed to do?” she hissed.
“Follow my lead. No matter what they do—”
“I smell you, little beasts,” Taryn shouted. “Down. Now!”
My stomach clenched.
Step by step, we descended. I kept my head high, clutching the railing like it could save me, and scanned the room—Henrik, Taryn, the captain, another guard, and him.
My foot missed the last step. I caught myself on the banister, but ice flooded my veins as I finally saw his face clearly. His expression was calm, as if he hadn’t witnessed me fleeing the Arathi manor.
One word from him—that’s her, the thief—and I’d be dead before sunrise. But he just stood there, silent and still, watching me with an intensity that made my chest tighten until breathing was impossible.
Was this his game? Let prey think they’d escaped, then appear like a nightmare to show them they’d never been free at all? Rheya’s fingers sank into my arm, keeping me from bolting up the stairs.
Lord Henrik smiled. “It’s all right, girls. They want to ask some questions.”
Swallowing hard, I beamed at the captain. “How may I help you, sir?”
“We’re investigating unusual activity in the merchant quarter. Heard anything about that?”
“No, sir.”
Taryn glowered at me. “You’re at the market every other day.”
“I only go for supplies.”
Taryn faced the captain. “What exactly is this about?”
He shifted, grimacing. “It’s a simple inquiry.”
“Don’t insult me,” she snarled. “You don’t send two Runecloaks and the executioner to a cleric’s door for a simple inquiry. What. Happened.”
The captain glanced at Henrik, who shrugged. “There was a theft at Arathi Manor.”
Taryn’s eyes glittered dangerously. “And you immediately come here?”
“No, my lady. We’re questioning everyone in the quarter. The servants especially, as they might have heard gossip.”
“Of course.” Taryn whirled on us, her lip curling. “What do you know about this?”
“Nothing,” I blurted.
“Lies.” She grabbed her husband’s arm. “Make them tell the truth.”
Blood drained from my face. The fae whispered about this in terrified voices, that clerics could yank confessions from people’s minds like teeth—but they were supposed to be just stories.
The captain cleared his throat. “If you could verify their innocence, my lord, it would be swifter. Otherwise, I’ll need to bring them in.”
Henrik frowned. “The Unburdening is sacred. It’s meant for the faithful who seek absolution, not humans. Entering a human’s consciousness is like pouring wine into a dirty cup.”
“Oh, spare me the pious hand-wringing,” Taryn snapped. “The captain doesn’t have all night, and neither do we. Unless you’d prefer they drag our girls to the dungeons for questioning? Think how that would look.”
Henrik’s jaw tightened. “Human minds warp under magic. It could damage her.”
Taryn sneered. “Since when do you care about their welfare?”
Henrik closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they were resigned.
“Fine.” He stepped toward me, his movements sharp with irritation. “The gods will not look kindly on this perversion.”
I backed away but he was already there, gripping my chin, pressing his palm to my forehead. No.
A rune on his hand flared.
Then something slithered into my skull. Invisible tentacles probed and twisted, slicing through my life like blades. His magic sank into the folds of my mind, hunting for evidence that would condemn me.
I fought back. Threw up my mother’s death. Rheya shivering with fever three winters ago. Moldy bread. Hunger. Pain.
But he kept pushing through the trauma I’d offered him, looking for gaps, for the spaces between suffering where truth might hide. So I gave him more—Taryn’s lightning burning through me, every humiliation I’d swallowed with a smile, anything to bury what he actually wanted.
The claws jabbed deeper.
Tears streaked my cheeks, and a scream built in my throat that I couldn’t let free. He was rummaging through me like I was a drawer full of rags, pulling out memories and tossing them aside. The violation felt worse than any beating I’d ever endured.
The executioner moved.
Above us, a light exploded. Glass rained down from the ceiling in glittering shards, scattering across marble like fallen stars. Taryn shrieked. The magic holding me shattered, and I collapsed to my knees.
Henrik glared up at the light. “Idiot apprentice must’ve misdrawn a line.”
The captain lowered a hand from his sword. “A common enough problem, my lord.”
My skull throbbed.
The executioner’s gauntlet hung loose at his side. A faint shimmer lingered around his fingertips, and his eyes…were concerned? No. Impossible.
I gaped at him, shaking, trying to understand why he kept saving me. Once at the manor. Now here. The executioner didn’t protect thieves—he beheaded them in the Square while crowds cheered.
Rheya’s arm wrapped around my waist. I leaned into her, gasping for breath, but Henrik pulled me from my sister.
“There.” His fingers grasped my chin, tilting my face up. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I couldn’t pretend. Not with his magic still aching inside me.
The executioner tensed.
Henrik gave my cheek a fatherly pat. “She’s exactly what she appears to be. A simple girl with simple thoughts.”
The captain frowned, but Henrik was already herding him toward the door. “Of course, my lord. Apologies for the intrusion.”
The soldiers filed out.
Henrik watched them go, his lip curling the moment they showed their backs.
The executioner paused in the doorway. His jaw flexed like he’d swallowed words that wanted to escape. Those amber eyes found mine, and we just stared at each other.
Who are you?
He turned. His cloak snapped behind him as he strode into the night, taking his answers with him and leaving me with nothing but questions that could get me killed.
The attic door shut.
Neither of us moved. We stood there, breathing hard, like we’d run the whole way up instead of walking. I sank onto my mattress.
“We’re alive,” Rheya laughed. “Gods, I thought when Henrik grabbed you, we were finished.”
I rubbed my face. “Yeah.”
“We can’t waste a second.” Rheya pulled out the canvas bags we’d packed. “Let’s go.”
“The Rite’s tomorrow.”
She froze. “Aelie.”
“The infirmary’s still empty. More people will volunteer.”
“They do that every year, Aelie.”
“But we promised.”
“We promised to help.” Her voice cracked. “We can’t anymore. Henrik was seconds from finding out.”
That sat like lead in my stomach. All those mouths we’d fed with stolen bread. The fevers we’d broken with pilfered herbs. Tomorrow, some of them would kneel on the sacrifice rune, choosing death over another winter of slow starvation.
Rheya crouched in front of me. “We gave this city everything. Our childhood. Years of our lives.” Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “When is it enough?”
“You’re right…I keep trying to save everyone, but I’m drowning. We both are.”
“And if we stay, the Runecloaks won’t stop looking. They’ll go to the foundlings hall. Interrogate Brisa. Question the children. If they decide any of them helped us—”
My stomach turned. “They’ll force them into the Rite.”
“Exactly. If we stay, we’ll only make it worse for them.”
She yanked me into a tight hug. I held on just as hard, breathing her lemon and thyme scent.
Gods, she was right. We’d bled for this city until we had nothing left to give and the Rite would take its volunteers. With or without us. At least we’d face what came next together. And maybe we’d keep the people we cared about safe.
“I’m sorry.” The words were muffled against her shoulder. “For making you wait.”
She pulled back, her eyes shining. “Shut up.”
“No, I mean it. You needed me alive and I kept risking our necks.”
“We’re leaving.” She shook me gently. “That’s all that matters.”
A shaky breath escaped me.
Rheya disengaged from me and rummaged through the boxes stacked in the corner, and then she dropped the satchel at my feet.
I took out the jewelry box. Brushed silver, compact. A pattern of interwoven branches curled around the edges, framing an inlaid bloodstone.
Her grin widened. “This is it. No more fae. No more this.” She gestured to the attic, her bracelet rattling.
“No more Taryn and Henrik.”
Rheya beamed. “We should sell this first.”
I nodded. “Agree.”
“What will you buy?” she asked. “When we get out of here.”
“Bread. With salted butter.”
Rheya sank to the floor. “Gods, yes, and jam. Peach, not the weird one with seeds.”
“You mean raspberries?”
“Whatever.”
I glanced at the box in my lap. “We should know what’s inside before we sell it.”
My hand hovered over the box’s latch. The energy prickling off it made my skin itch. We couldn’t risk opening this anywhere public. I turned the box over in my hands, brushing my fingers over the bloodstone at its center. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
“Do you feel that?” I whispered.
Rheya leaned closer. “Is it warm?”
“It feels…alive.”
I touched the rune, and a hum filled the room like a bowstring wound too tight. I traced the tiny lines. Heat rippled up my arm, and I winced.
“You alright?” she asked.
I wrung my hand. “It’s stubborn.”
I tried again, sweat beading as I grabbed for the threads. They twisted away from me.
“Maybe we should—”
“No.” I gritted my teeth. “Almost got it.”
Brilliant blue ribbons fell into my palm as I pulled. Each thread popped free, lashing welts across my skin. Sparks erupted. The rune flared. It seared my eyes, too bright to look at, but I couldn’t stop.
I’d come too far. Survived Henrik’s mental violation, run from guards, and abandoned Kavi. All for this box.
I wasn’t giving up.
Magic roared through the threads as I yanked them loose, the box blistering my palms.
“Aelie, stop!”
“I can’t.”
The threads bucked wildly. One wrapped around my wrist. Another snapped against my collarbone.
The lines etched into the silver casing glowed white-hot. Smoke rose from the metal. The rune shrieked. Then the final thread fractured, and the rune detonated.
A shockwave burst from the box, slamming into my ribs. The attic trembled, and the wooden beams below groaned as energy ricocheted through the space.
Then the floor shattered.