Chapter 17
The days blurred together, and though Otho and I shared a tent each night, both of us were too tired for anything but sleeping when we finally tumbled into our bedrolls.
We’d spent an extra day near the camp where we’d last seen Ryle, searching, but he never resurfaced.
Still, Otho insisted on slowing our pace, so we could hear his shouts for help.
But I knew the part Otho wasn’t saying—a deserter didn’t shout for help.
Ryle leaving sat heavy, like a stone in my stomach, but I also knew if he left for the purpose of harming us, our best decision was to move forward and continue our journey as quickly as possible, which was the exact opposite of what Otho wanted.
Every morning we were both up before dawn, me for training with Askel, and Otho to search the surrounding area and ensure we were still on the right path.
At least, that’s what I assumed he was doing with his compass and broody stares into the distance.
I was still bummed that no one wanted to try my raft idea, especially as we began the climb of another peak, but I didn’t push it.
I knew I needed to talk to Otho again, both about the poison, and what I’d decided I wanted to do with the Seid books, but besides for the few hours we laid next to each other and closed our eyes each night, we never had a moment alone.
The days were so long, we didn’t even have a moment to step away from camp to talk in the privacy of the trees.
And I knew he was worried about what had become of Ryle
But as I uncorked my last vial to chew my daily dose of the bitter berries, I knew my time was almost up.
“Otho,” I called out softly as I walked back toward our tent. It was past dawn and the camp was already alive with the men packing up while Karl cooked breakfast, delicious smells wafting in my direction. I inclined my head toward the trees, hoping he would understand what I was insinuating.
“Not now, Runa,” he hissed, glaring at the brass compass in his hand.
I frowned, but knew it wasn’t worth arguing over.
Later, when we were on the path, his hand brushed down my shoulder, and I leaned away from the contact.
“I’m sorry, Runa,” Otho apologized.
I shook my head. “You never should have trusted someone who would switch sides for coin.”
He reeled back, as if he’d been slapped. “Runa, I know you don’t know him, but Ryle . . . he isn’t—”
I cut him off. “I know his type, Otho—the type who places coin above all else, even loyalty.” I moved away the instant I finished speaking, unwilling to hear his rebuttal.
Later that day, almost a fortnight after Otho found Ena and I, we came upon a small town, which was excellent timing for my belladonna situation.
Even though I was only chewing a few berries each morning, our pace was slow, and I knew I would need to find more soon.
Ena was aware, but unfortunately, she hadn’t located another belladonna bush, even though she often walked separately from the rest of the group.
The town was small, about the size of Bru, but we were all tired and over the grueling days and light rations, so Otho announced we would stay the night in the town’s only inn.
The single-floor building wasn’t nearly as large as the inns in Ralheim. It was constructed out of logs, and I knew the moment we stepped inside the small reception area that there was no way there were enough rooms for everyone in our group.
“Good evening,” Otho greeted the woman behind the counter with what I’d long started calling his diplomatic smile. It made him seem much friendlier to the unknowing stranger, but anyone who knew him well could see the smile didn’t meet his gray eyes.
The woman was older, perhaps the age I imagined my mother would be had she survived the Purge, but she was not immune to Otho’s charms. I could feel the way nervousness and appreciation rolled off her at his words, and I wished for the first time all trip that I hadn’t taken the belladonna that morning, just so I could hear her thoughts.
“We were wondering how many rooms you had available?”
It took the woman a moment to answer, her gaze drifting to us. “The inn is empty, but we only have four rooms. Someone can stay in the barn, though. We haven’t had any horses through here in an age.”
Otho spun to face the group. “Runa and I will take one room, Karl, you can bunk with Askel. Nel, you’re with Jase, and Ena, you can have your own room.”
I opened my mouth, about to object at sharing with Otho, but he continued speaking before I could utter a single syllable.
“If anyone doesn’t want to share, you’re welcome to the barn.
” He glared pointedly at me before turning back around and settling the bill with the woman using a large pouch of coins he pulled from the bottom of his pack.
My eyes briefly widened, wondering where he’d gotten so much money, but I was distracted by Askel and Ena, who seemed to be having a quiet conversation across the lobby using only their eyes.
Now I really wish I hadn’t taken the belladonna that morning. Especially because I couldn’t avoid the conversation that was to come.
“That settles it, we don’t serve food here, but there’s a pub down the street.”
I couldn’t stop the excitement that bubbled in me at the mention of a pub. In Ralheim, we’d had a few, but Milo and I had never visited despite being of age. Drinking was a luxury we couldn’t afford, or risk, with our secret.
Otho didn’t seem nearly as excited as he accepted the long metal keys and distributed them among our group one by one.
He grabbed my hand and led me down a long hallway. There were two doors on either side, and a single one at the end. Unsurprisingly, he’d chosen the one at the end for ours, pausing to unlock the door before ushering me inside.
Like the town, the room was simple, nothing more than a double bed and blankets that had seen better days. There was no other furniture in the room, but there was a small door off to the side which served as a bathing room.
“This town doesn’t get a lot of foot traffic,” Otho offered as an explanation as I poked around in silence.
“I sensed as much when she said there had been no horses here in an age.” I pumped some water into the sink, using it to wash my face and neck, eyeing the large wooden tub.
“I’m honestly not sure why they even built a barn—these trails are tough for even the most sure-footed horses.” He shook his head and I struggled to picture a horse on the trails we’d been traversing. “There used to be more foot traffic through here.”
I raised my eyebrows as I dried my face with the folded towel, my curiosity prevailing. “What happened?”
“The King developed a new roadway that went around the mountains. People now have the option to skip the several days of hiking if they wish to journey to Shianp from Heimland.”
I dropped the towel with a huff. “And we are going this way . . . why?” I grumbled, exiting the bathroom to find Otho sitting on the bed.
His face was apologetic. “Well, for one, you’d already started on this path before we found you, so it felt weird to turn back and go around, even if it might have saved us a day or two. And two, I wanted to see if this place was still here.”
I frowned. I thought Salheim had been Otho’s childhood home, but the way he spoke about this village . . .
“Hey, come here.” His voice was different as he beckoned me over, softer than I’d heard in weeks, and it effectively interrupted my thoughts.
I walked over to him, wrapping my hands around his neck. With me standing, and him sitting on the bed, it was easy to pull him into my chest, allowing him to rest his head on my breasts.
We stood like that, soaking each other in, both of us just breathing.
“I’m sorry again, Runa. You’re right; I never should have trusted Ryle.
I just . . . I feel lost without you. I fought these feelings for as long as I could, but I can’t fight them anymore.
And…and I know you’re not ready to talk about what happened in Malheim but…
” He artfully skipped Leif’s name. “If you ever feel you are…I’m here.
” Otho’s frown lessened for the first time in days before he tightened his hold on me.
Too late, I realized what a mistake I’d made, as his ear pressed into the vials, causing them to clatter against one another in their hiding spot.
He pulled back, eyes wide. He must’ve found something in my expression because his mood instantly soured. “What in Hel’s name is in your shirt?”
I grimaced at the name of the underworld, trying to figure out a way out of this situation. But as the second droned on, I realized I didn’t have a choice, and I pulled the vials from my brassiere one by one. It was time to explain.
“Before the attack on Malheim, I read a book of Hansen’s that I’ve read before.” I’d been sitting on this secret for so long that my voice vibrated as I confessed.
Otho cocked an eyebrow.
“I severed my connection with it the first time, but then . . .” Collum’s face flashed behind my eyes. “Collum mentioned it might be a mind-reading book—”
He jumped to a standing position—always a step ahead of me. “You can read my mind!?”
I raised my hand, trying to calm him. “If I don’t take what’s in these vials and can’t maintain my mental shield, yes.
But I can’t control the power well and when there are too many people around, I can’t discern which thoughts come from which people, so I take this to keep my powers subdued. It’s why you couldn’t always—”
“Feel your location.” His eyes were fixed on the vials. “What is it?”
“Belladonna,” I breathed.
His anger flared, and he snatched the vials from my hands, stomping to the window, his large hand encircling the latch.
“Otho! Wait!” I begged, grabbing onto one of his biceps. “It won’t kill me; I’m keeping the dose low. Without it, I won’t be functional . . . This power is . . . really strong. It has made the Seid who read it in the past go crazy.”
His hand paused. “Can’t you sever it like you did before?”