Runebreaker

Chapter 47 Martyrs and Brutes

MARTYRS AND brUTES

I woke to an empty bed.

My hand reached across the furs before I was fully conscious, searching for warmth that wasn’t there. His scent still clung to the pillows, but Kairos was nowhere in the room.

Disappointment tugged at my chest before I smothered it. He was a king. Of course he couldn’t stay, and maybe that was for the best. I wasn’t ready to face him after falling asleep in his arms.

A dark-haired male sat in a chair by the hearth, helping himself to the food from a tray. Crumbs dotted his scaled armor.

I scowled at Uther. “Is that my breakfast?”

“Yeah. That bubbly servant of yours came in an hour ago. Couldn’t help myself.” He licked crumbs from his fingers. “You’ve been out cold for a day and a half. Kai was starting to lose his mind.”

“Did he send you?”

“No, love. I wanted to check on you.”

I pushed myself upright, wincing. Uther’s eyes flicked to my hand when it pressed against my abdomen.

“How are you feeling?”

I sighed. “Better.”

He nodded at the window. “Have you been outside yet?”

I shook my head.

He stood and ripped the curtains aside. “Look.”

A wall of red-gold lightning flickered across a bruised sky. The forest writhed, trees bending under winds that carried a faint metallic scent.

“Oh gods.”

Uther grinned. “Not yours. Mine. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I stared at the unnatural sky. “Is this because of the seal?”

“Probably.” He leaned closer to the window, palms braced on the sill. “My people used to worship dragons.”

I glanced at him. “They did?”

“We were among the few who bent the knee willingly.” He traced a finger along the glass, following the path of a lightning vein. “When the other realms banded together to seal them away, my ancestors called it blasphemy.”

“And now?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Now I’m old enough to understand why the sealing happened, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what we lost. This storm feels like a homecoming. Like something in my blood remembers.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Does anything frighten you?”

“I’ve seen it all, love. War, famine, plagues…a million times over. Nothing scares me.”

“I wish I felt that way,” I whispered. “I wish I could…pretend I’m not completely overwhelmed.”

The deal spreading through my body like poison. Rheya trapped with Vaeris. Villages burning. Dragons screaming at me in dreams. That storm outside, my fault. The tsunamis, also my fault.

“It feels like the world is ending.”

“It might be, but you’re not facing it alone. You’ve got me and Kairos, and about seven thousand warriors.”

I drew my knees to my chest, letting that settle over me.

“Get some rest.” Uther headed for the door. “And stop hoarding the good pastries.”

I managed a weak smile. “I can’t promise that.”

The door thumped shut behind him, and thunder boomed.

Uther looked at red lightning and called it new. If Uther could treat the apocalypse like entertainment, I could get out of bed.

I needed to make one thing better in a world I kept making worse.

I strolled to the training yard.

The storm hadn’t let up. Wind whipped through the warcamp, carrying with it fat drops of rain. I pulled my arms close as the weather turned, but the droplets slid off the cream linen like oil off glass.

The dress had runes to keep me dry and warm. Magic I’d never dreamed of in Skalgard, where we patched holes with thread and hoped our boots lasted another winter.

The yard sprawled ahead, packed dirt already churning to mud under warriors’ boots. They sparred through the rain, grunts and clashing steel filling the air. Some nodded as I passed. Others stared.

I tugged at my sleeve. The dress was practical by castle standards—simple linen, long sleeves, no elaborate embroidery. But here, surrounded by scarred leather, the soft fabric felt absurdly delicate. Like I’d wandered into a forge wearing silk.

One warrior glanced up, nudging his companion. They both watched me pass.

My cheeks burned. I didn’t belong here. I should go back, bury myself in books—

“Runebreaker.”

I froze. A female warrior approached, her jaw marked by a thick white scar. Her hands trembled as she stopped a few feet away.

“Yes?”

“Can you…can you look at this?”

She held out a shortsword, and a sickly rune pulsed along the steel, the black veins clawing up her forearm where she gripped the hilt.

“I’ve been holding it for three years,” she mumbled. “Took it off a Caelir raider. Thought it was spoils. Didn’t realize it had a curse rune until I picked it up.”

I pulled on my gloves and reached for the blade. Dark threads erupted from the rune. Writhing things that lashed at my hands. Fishing through the wiry texture, I clutched the core thread, which dug into my finger.

“Hold still,” I muttered.

I twisted. The thread snapped with a burst of green light, and the blade clattered to the ground.

The warrior gasped, staring at her empty hands. She flexed her fingers, then gaped at me.

“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely. “I thought I’d die with that thing in my hand.”

I smiled. “You’re welcome.”

She bent to retrieve the now-harmless blade and slammed it into a nearby weapons rack, then she raised her clenched fist in the air.

A group of males surged toward me, talking all at once. Rain drummed on their armor as they loomed over me.

My heart seized, and I was back in Skalgard, cornered in an alley, waiting for the first blow. But no one reached for a weapon. They were just…talking.

“Can you really break any rune?”

“What about blood oaths?” barked another.

“I heard she destroyed a palace—”

“No, that was the Halfbreed—”

“No, she did it. I heard it from Uther.”

The voices overlapped, too many at once, and I stepped back only to bump into a chest plate. The warrior steadied me with a hand on my shoulder.

“Easy,” he soothed. “We just want to know if the stories are true.”

I cleared my throat. “Some of them.”

A broad-shouldered male cocked his head. “No human should’ve been able to do that. What are you, girl?”

Every face tilted toward me, waiting.

I almost laughed. A week ago, I would’ve said human without hesitation, but that was information they didn’t need to know.

I shrugged. “Still figuring that out. But I can break runes, which is more useful than knowing what to call it.”

A few warriors exchanged glances.

“Can you teach us?” a scarred female asked.

“I don’t think it works like that,” I murmured. “It’s not a skill you practice. It’s more like…I can see the threads, and I know which ones to pull.”

“So you were born with it,” someone said.

I nodded, smiling.

The crowd jolted as a massive blond warrior plowed through the circle. Two males stumbled aside, one swearing as he caught his balance. The blond ignored them, breathing hard, and thrust out his arm. His sleeve was yanked to the elbow, revealing a crudely drawn rune on his forearm.

“Fix this,” he demanded.

I bent closer, examining the jagged lines. “What is it?”

“Speed rune,” he growled. “I botched it, and now I can’t sleep. Can you get rid of it?”

I took his arm and rotated it. The lines overlapped in places they shouldn’t, and they were uneven. I pressed my gloved fingers to the rune.

Warriors gasped.

Blue threads emerged, as thin as spiderwebs. They barely resisted as I thumbed through the rapidly unraveling magic. One twist, and the rune dissolved like sugar in water.

I let go of his hand. “Done.”

The warrior blinked. “That’s it?”

“It wanted to break.”

He flexed his arm, then laughed. “Four months I’ve been dealing with this cursed thing. You fixed it in ten seconds?”

A ripple of awe swept through the warriors.

“What do you want for it?” he grunted.

My brow furrowed. “You want to pay me?”

He nodded firmly.

Another male approached. “Break the rune on my bracer, and I will give you a full quiver of ash-tipped arrows.”

A female elbowed him aside, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Arrows. Please. I have a fellcat pelt from last night. Warm and thick. She can have it.”

The thief in me wanted to hoard everything like I’d done in Skalgard. That instinct ran bone-deep—take what you can get, because tomorrow it’ll be gone.

But they were offering me things they’d worked for, and I had a closet of expensive dresses and three meals a day I didn’t have to steal or beg for. Taking from them would be pure greed.

“I don’t want payment.” I smiled at them. “I already have what I need.”

The blond warrior gave me a nod, almost a bow.

The crowd pressed closer and within minutes, a line had formed. Warriors glanced at the red-veined sky, jaws tight.

Some runes broke easily. Others fought viciously, making my palms tingle. After two hours, sweat slid down my back, but I kept breaking runes. They’d be marching into chaos I’d caused. The least I could do was make sure their blades worked properly.

“Enough.”

A thunderous voice cracked across the yard.

Kairos carved through the crowd, a feral light in his eyes as he faced his warriors.

“Not one of you thought to make her rest?”

The warriors stiffened. Some frowned.

“I’m fine,” I said.

He planted himself in front of me, mist writhing around his fists. “This is the girl who saved your kin in Vaelrith, and here you are, lining up to drain her strength further?”

Several males bowed their heads.

“Everything she breaks costs her,” Kairos seethed. “You are better than this.”

The blond warrior stepped forward. “She offered, my king.”

“She doesn’t know when to stop, but you do. And it is your duty to protect your own, not exploit them. The next person who works her to exhaustion will answer to me.” Kairos let out a loose growl. “Now get out of my sight.”

The warriors scattered.

“Kairos,” I whispered. “I wanted to help.”

He looked at me, and the fire in his gaze dimmed. “You’re swaying on your feet.”

Oh. I hadn’t noticed.

His mouth tightened. “How long have you been doing this?”

I glanced at the sky. “A few hours?”

He dragged a hand down his face.

“If I help them, I’m helping you. Each warrior freed from a bad rune is one less liability in battle.” My voice softened. “A female had a sword she’d been holding for three years.”

He grunted. “Barra. I’ll deal with her later.”

“No, you won’t.”

His head snapped toward me. “They don’t get to use you.”

“I want to help. I need to, and you don’t get to decide that for me.”

Frustration flickered in his gaze. “You’re shaking, and you pushed yourself too far.”

“I decide how far is too far.”

“Maybe I decide for you when you’re about to fall over.” His arm banded my waist. “Come with me.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his grip tightened.

“Don’t make me drag you off,” he growled, steering me away from the camps.