Chapter 9
Stockpiling poisons, reading on Seid history, and ensuring Leif consumed his love potion each day consumed more of my time than I’d planned.
Not to mention the breeding season bloomed into the warm season, and I knew I would have to confess to Leif that I wasn’t pregnant before he came to his own conclusions.
The trust magic had worked wonders, and I had more access to the palace and grounds than ever before. I’d even used it to leave the grounds of the Keep, visiting the market I’d been barred from just a fortnight before.
Although the book I’d found in the library on the Seid was small, it held a large amount of information.
Often, I would read one paragraph, then sit and think before continuing on to the next, allowing the information to simmer in my mind as I learned more and more about a history the rulers had tried to bury.
Though attitudes toward the Seid had been unscrupulous for centuries, there was a time when they’d played an important part in society—so important that Seid reading classes were taught in universities, and it was common for all people to learn at least something of the magical language during the course of their lifetime.
The Seid often became healers and politicians, magic an important part of their career and lives.
Certain Seid even devoted themselves to reading specific types of magic, as it was impossible to read every book in existence.
Thus, certain Seid became experts on different aspects of society.
The thing was, I couldn’t deduce what had changed.
The book focused on the positive part of Seid history, the rise from an obscure language to one commonly practiced by children in the streets.
Though a large portion of society learned to read, it sounded like the books themselves had long been scarce, the scribes that wrote them being of unknown origin and unknown whereabouts.
The books merely showed up to be passed around, though the number of books did not keep up nor correlate with population increases.
But as I drew closer to the end of the book, I began to read between the lines.
The fate of the Seid had gone dark as the government in the Heimland changed from one run by village councils to one ruled by viscounts under the unity of a common king.
They’d become afraid of the power of the Seid, of the power to read magic on a whim—the power the Seid held that could allow them to rise up against their new governmental systems.
They’d created a genocide based on perceived negative potential.
My stomach soured, and regret flowed through me at the texts I’d thrown into the fire.
The book came to an end long before the current era, and I was unable to pinpoint exactly when. Almost as if the writer had intended to write more, but had been unable to—the last few pages of the text left blank.
But even as I visited the library over and over, I was unable to find any more books about the Seid. Or any more books containing magic.
The war wasn’t going well, with Malheim losing ground each day. This was lucky for me, as Leif spent more and more time at the front lines and didn’t pressure me to read him anymore powers. Though it didn’t help regarding my confusion toward my feelings for him.
I ached to leave still, but my feelings behind the ache had grown confusing. Did I ache for my brother? Or the last sense of comfort I’d ever felt?
Or did I ache for the man who confessed he was my weighted a season before but had yet to come for me as promised?
I didn’t know the answer, but Otho hadn’t visited my dreams again, and I hadn’t been able to figure out how to discern his location using the information I had on hand.
It might have had something to do with the potion I was taking, as it dulled my magic. I noticed each morning before I took it that the magic felt more alive beneath my skin before drinking my potion and muted afterward.
But it didn’t diminish them entirely and I could still call them, just to a lesser extent. Which is what I needed.
I thought about meditating a third time to try and find Otho, to be able to feel his location as he’d felt mine, but I was afraid of what I would find, now that I knew more about the history of weighted pairs.
I didn’t want to know what he was doing that was more important than keeping his promise to me.
While the book on Seid history had mentioned a bit about weighted pairs, it didn’t explain in exact terms, nor did it give me the answers I sought on how exactly the bond worked.
It didn’t mention anything about the constant, nagging pull I felt in my chest, now that I’d clawed my way out of the shroud of depression I’d spiraled into when I first came to Malheim.
I sat by the water now, head back, eyes closed, the rays of the sun kissing my face, a book opened in my lap. It was a love story, a beautiful one, nothing like the Hel I found myself trapped in.
“Miss?”
The female voice broke my trail of thoughts.
“Hm?” I asked without opening my eyes. Derek was standing somewhere nearby, and I knew he would not allow harm to come to me. I was safe here in the walls of Malheim.
“It’s been a while, miss.”
My eyebrows drew together as I fought to decipher the voice.
Finally, I cracked open my eyes, taking in the woman with dark hair and gold-rimmed eyes who stood before me.
I squinted, trying to place her. She was dressed as the rest of the female servants, in a plain gray fitted dress and long apron, but her hair was pulled back neatly, indicating she hadn’t worked yet today, or at least not enough for tendrils to escape their clasp.
She looked over both her shoulders before continuing. “It’s me, Ena.”
The words soaked in, my gaze widening as I jumped to my feet to embrace her.
“What . . . How?” I kept my voice low, glancing at where Derek stood, his back against the stone wall, his gaze fixed on our conversation.
Ena had filled out some since I last saw her, meaning Otho was at least treating her better in Ralheim than Hansen had here.
She extracted herself from the hug, reaching for my hand to guide me back to a sitting position, both of us facing the lake.
“I’m here for Otho.”
Something flickered in my chest, but with the suppression potion I was testing, I was able to keep my emotions off my face. “What about him?”
“He sent me.” Her voice was barely more than a hiss. “We figured Leif barely noticed me when I worked here before, and I doubt he remembers me from the escape. Since I have the best knowledge of the keep layout—”
“A spy.” My voice was quiet, the flame in my chest twisting despite my calm demeanor. “His plan is going to happen soon then.” It was only after I said the words that I realized what a mistake I might have made, but Ena wasn’t surprised.
“Yes.” She looked over her shoulder a second time, to ensure we were still only in danger of Derek hearing. “He’s worried about you.”
“I see.” The words were curt and short. I didn’t want to discuss my feelings about Otho with anyone, not while they remained muddled.
“You don’t seem worried for him.”
I brought my knees to my chest, dropping my head onto my forearms so I could take a deep breath before responding.
“It’s not like that, Ena,” I started with a sigh, keeping my gaze forward as I confessed the realization I’d slowly been coming to.
“It’s just . . . this won’t end well. None of it will. For any of us.”
“What do you mean?”
I glanced over at the woman I’d once bared my soul to after only knowing her a few moments, my gaze catching on the gold circle in her eyes. “You read the trust book.”
Her lips quirked up in the corner. “I’ve never heard it called that, but yes.”
Her affirmation was all I needed to realize that Leif has lied to me.
He hadn’t gotten that book from Adis. It had been here all along.
I tucked that thought away for later, knowing it didn’t matter right now.
I sucked my lip into my mouth, thinking, “I’m sure Friar told you of the plan . . . or Otho told you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Silence settled between us. The only sounds reaching our ears were the occasional bird chirp, breaking the silence of an otherwise peaceful afternoon.
“What do you think of their plan?” I asked at last, still fishing for information without making my intentions obvious.
She glanced at me, tucking her own legs into her chest so we were sitting in the same position. “I’m tired of all the death. I’ll do anything for it to end.”
“Me too,” I affirmed, knowing that even if Ena hadn’t read the trust book before I’d met her during the dying season, I would still feel a kinship with her. “But I don’t have a better idea. I think they will fight until—”
“Until you’re dead,” she affirmed.
I gulped, knowing that my death would also likely lead to Otho’s, meaning that might be what Leif was attempting to do with his ridiculous rules and imprisonment.
“The problem is,” Ena started again, “while I don’t think Otho and Friar are as bad as Hansen and Adis . . . I don’t think they’re doing the right thing either.”
I frowned, realizing that at this point, Ena had likely spent more time with Otho than I had, and better knew his plans. But I was better acquainted with Leif and Friar.
“Runa, I don’t think either of them have ever felt real pain. And I think when they make plans, they don’t always see things the same way you or I do.” She sighed, picking at a loose thread poking up from the seam on her sleeve.
I kept my gaze on my arm, noticing how the scar on top of my original brand was finally starting to heal. “They lost their parents in the Purge, too,” I corrected her, knowing the pain of the Heimland was a shared trauma among us all.
Ena shrugged. “If you say so. We’ve never talked about that I suppose. It just seems . . .” She trailed off, but I was much too smug, knowing she and Otho haven’t talked much. And I knew that meant that though the bond may be muted by my half-poison potion, it was still there.
And the desperation to both leave Leif and to fix him also refused to die.
“I agree with you, Ena, but I don’t know what else to do. Leif is clearly the worst of the two evils.”
“The strongest shape has always been a triangle.”
The words were odd, and my head snapped to Ena as I processed what she was saying.
“Adis’s father removed Salheim from the equation, leaving Malheim and Ralheim to battle it out, but they will destroy each other before it even comes close to that point.” Ena observed me then, her frown matching mine.
My mind was still climbing the problem-solving ladder university had installed in its depths. Ghostly whispers of something Collum said long ago rose from the soup of my memory. “Do you think a higher power influenced Adis and his father?”
“I think it’s possible,” she replied.
“The king,” I whispered, remembering the day I’d seen him in Ralheim, the sun glinting off of all the metal he wore as he’d paraded down the street. My mind flashed to the Seid history book. “Maybe he regrets his forefathers handing control of these lands to the viscounts,” I mused.
“My thoughts were the same as yours, but if he wants something left to rule, he better step in soon.” She rose from the grass then, brushing the dirt from her dress.
“No matter what happens, Runa, you saved me once, and I will always be on your side. Even if it isn’t the side I appear to be on now. I trust you over them.”
My eyes searched her face, wanting to tell her the rescue was a gift, and that she had actually saved me from drowning—something any respectable person would have done—but I liked the idea of someone being on my side for once.
I liked not feeling alone.
“I fear when this war ends, it will only start another.”
Something in her tone dredged up a hidden memory in my mind, but it flitted away before I could grasp it. “What are you talking about?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know if your parents took you to coven meetings as a child, before most were discontinued due to the Purge, but the Seid have long been divided. And then the Purge happened and the war over land . . .”
My mind flashed to when Collum and Leif had immediately hated each other merely based on coven association. “. . . it will immediately start another between the covens.”
She nodded. “I think we need to prepare for the worst.” She sighed, turning back toward the keep. “I’ll check in with Friar and find you later.” With that, she headed for the door that opened into the interior courtyard.
I returned my attention to the lake, watching the ripples as the occasional fish came up for a breath. There was one thing that was certain now.
I was ready to read the book of whispers.