Chapter 22
Luckily for me, the innkeeper was kind, allowing me to sit in a chair she pulled into the lobby as I waited for Otho to return from his errand.
There was something so luxurious about being able to simply sit there, in a room, in a city I didn’t belong in, and think.
So much of what had changed me over the past year had happened so fast, and for the first time, I was able to breathe and reflect, and ask myself what it was that I wanted to ask from the king.
I didn’t have an answer.
I knew what I didn’t want to happen, which was for anyone else, including myself, to suffer under the hand of a man, or be forced to take Signa’s position as the matron of the coven. But the issue was, I didn’t know what would help the majority of people either.
It wasn’t until the sun faded from the sky, the street turning a strange hue of pink, that Otho returned.
I stood as his boots knocked against the floor, but his head was down, a stack of books tucked under his arm. He was nearly to the stairs when my presence finally registered.
“Runa, what are you doing down here?”
I glanced back toward the street, knowing Milo must’ve been long gone. “I didn’t know what room we were in, nor did I have a key.”
“Oh,” he breathed, not seeming like his normal self at all. He pulled a heavy silver key from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. “Why didn’t you call for me?”
I shrugged, not knowing how to explain how exhausted the conversation with my brother had made me.
“Two-oh-two. I thought you would spend more time with your brother.”
It was a struggle to swallow over the lump in my throat, a strange hum in the air between us. “I thought so, too.”
I followed him up the stairs, unlocking the door for him. It wasn’t until he tossed the books on the bed that I made the connection, reeling back.
“Otho, why do you have Seid books?”
He glanced at the pile but returned to the task of unlacing his boots. “I am a seeker, you know.”
My lips twisted as I realized Otho and I had never discussed this.
Yes, Seid lore dictated that in a weighted pair, one was a seeker and the other a reader, but since a seeker could technically also read, I’d never taken the old lore too seriously.
Especially because I’d taught myself seeking, or what I thought was seeking, during my time in Malheim.
There was a lump in my throat as I eyed the books lying innocently on the bed. “What are you going to do with them?” I asked, chewing on the edge of my lip.
“I’m not sure,” he replied, moving to look out the window in our room. “I didn’t want to leave them, though. I don’t want them to fall into the wrong hands.”
Even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to tell what magic the books gave, I still picked them up one by one, flipping through them. “Are there Seid here in Shianp?”
“I assume so. But I was never involved in the community much. We never attended coven meetings.”
I moved the books from the bed to dresser. “Well, we can burn them as soon as we find a room with a fireplace.”
Otho turned to face me, leaning his long body against the window, blocking most of the light into the room as he rested on the sill. “Askel will be upset.”
“Did he see you with the books?” I questioned. I knew Askel was desperate for magic, but I was still unwilling to risk the books falling into the wrong hands.
“No,” he grumbled.
“Then we can burn them before Askel sees them,” I surmised.
Otho was conflicted, his emotions filtering over to me.
I’d hoped that suggesting burning them would make him feel less conflicted, but now I knew something else was going on.
My voice was barely above a whisper when I spoke again.
“Why don’t you want to burn them, Otho? You hate magic. ”
“That’s not true,” he said with a shake of his head. “I understand it was created to achieve balance, I . . .”
“You what?” I prodded.
He looked up at last, turmoil turning in his eyes. “The reality is, as viscount, I need to consider all my options.” He leaned his head back against the window, closing his eyes once more.
I understood what he was saying. It was something I’d long realized too, ever since speaking with Askel in the forest on the last leg of our journey.
While the intention behind the books was pure, they’d been leveraged as weapons for too long, and the vast majority of people no longer had access to what the gods had wanted us to have access to.
And those who did have access were often those lacking good intentions.
“I wish I could speak to the gods about it.”
My mouth dried at his words. I’d never heard someone speak so casually of the gods. “If they’re real,” I murmured.
His eyes snapped open. “They’re real.”
“You speak as if you know them personally.” Nervousness was crawling up my body now like ants. I didn’t like where this conversation was going. I took a daring step forward, my heart pounding.
“I don’t need to meet someone to know they’re real.”
My mind was devoid of an answer for that, I took another step forward until I was close enough to pull Otho into a hug. “I know you’ll make the right choice about the books,” I whispered into his chest, silently pleading with him to choose the same path I was.
We stood like that, soaking each other, and the silence, in. It was a moment of peace that I’d long dreamed of, and one I would long look back on.
I finally felt like everything was open between us, like there were no more secrets.
“Did you find the others?” I asked at last.
“Yeah. They’ll be here soon. I already booked rooms for them.”
I wanted to ask more about where he had gone, and where he’d found the books, but it was clear he was exhausted, so I led him to bed, pushing him down into a sitting position. “Which one is Ena in? I’ll go visit her and you can have some rest.”
“The next door down—two-oh-one.” His words were barely above a whisper as he gave in to my request, lying down on the bed.
He was snoring before I even tucked the key back into my pocket and left the room.
No one answered when I knocked on Room 201, so I returned to the lobby instead.
The same tired innkeeper was behind the counter and paid me no mind as I walked through and stepped outside.
It was almost fully dark, and I wasn’t brave enough to wander around a strange city without the light of the sun, so I sank down, sitting in the dirt next to the entrance of the inn.
It wasn’t long before the group wandered up the street, laughing and joking with each other as they went.
In stark opposition to the way Otho had returned, it appeared the rest of them had a wonderful day.
Karl was the quiet leader, herding Jase and Nel, who were shouting in a voice that told me they’d had more than one drink in one of the many pubs I’d seen on my walk with Otho.
Ena and Askel were a few steps behind, their voices too low to hear as they bent their heads together over the racket of the rest of the men.
The first half of the group passed me without taking notice, but Ena, ever observant, paused on the stairs, her gaze snapping to me. “Runa?”
“Yeah,” I replied, not moving to stand.
She whispered something to Askel too low for me to hear, before coming to sit down next to me. “Everything okay?”
Askel glanced our way before climbing the wooden steps, but the others didn’t even acknowledge us as they ducked inside the inn.
I’d found a stick in the dirt shortly before their arrival and I began peeling it apart with my fingertips. “I realized I’m not sure what to say to the king when we see him tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Ena gasped, her surprise a flicker. “I . . . didn’t really think about it.”
“Me either.” I sighed, peeling another piece off the stick and throwing it in the dirt. “It feels like it was another lifetime when we made this decision.”
“It was,” she agreed.
I debated telling her about my run-in with Milo, but decided it was better to keep the knowledge of my twin and his selfishness to myself for now. It wouldn’t help the situation anyway. “What did you all do all afternoon?”
Her lips turned up at the corners. “We walked around, ate, drank; it was a lot of fun. What did you and Otho do?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
“Relaxed, mostly,” I lied, saving the knowledge that Otho hadn’t been with them at all for later. “So, I’ve never spoken to a king . . . Do you think I need to be formal?”
She was pensive. “Maybe? I can’t say I’ve ever met a king either.”
“I wanted to ask for . . . protections for the Seid, but I’m not sure how I should . . . word my request.” Milo’s pleas burst into my mind and I pinched my eyes shut as I pushed them away.
“Well . . .” Ena’s gaze was focused on what little remained of the stick in my hands. “You could ask for a Seid to rule Heimland.”
“I could,” I agreed. “But I’m afraid that would only cause further resentment and unrest. What would you think of my asking for a panel of rulers instead of a viscount? Then we could have a required Seid member on that panel.”
“It would distribute the power more equally,” she agreed, tapping her chin with her pointer finger.
We weren’t getting anywhere, and I could feel Ena was growing bored, so I decided to change the subject. “What do you think will happen after tomorrow?”
“What do you mean?”
My hands were empty now, the stick completely obliterated, and I moved to picking at one of my fingernails. “Do we just go home after this?” It wasn’t until after I said the word that I realized I didn’t even know where my home was.
“I assume so,” Ena said with a frown, as if she too remembered the mess we came from. “You know, I actually haven’t really thought about it.”
“Me either. I . . .” I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to calm the sense of unease spreading through my body. “I’ve never really made plans before, you know? Not when I was a kid, not when I went to the military, not when—”
“Leif kidnapped you.”
“Exactly. And now I feel as if I have all the options in the world and I don’t know what to choose.” Tears built behind my eyes, but I blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time to cry about my misfortune.
Silence settled between us. “Well . . .” Ena’s voice sounded loud, echoing off the dark buildings on the silent street. “You seem to really like helping people, and you’re passionate about the Seid. Maybe you could work with the coven to teach the next generation?”
I nodded. What she was hinting at was sitting like a rock in my stomach.
“The thing is . . . I don’t think the Seid can continue as we have.
Magic, and only us being able to read it, has led to disparity and fear among those who didn’t learn, and if that continues .
. .” I pinched my eyes shut, images of Askel’s sadness floating through.
“I fear there will be another Purge. I think we need to find a way to end the disparity. Ensure everyone can learn to read and then people won’t feel bad when others have magic and they don’t.
I was trying to burn the books,” I admitted sheepishly.
“But after talking with Otho today, I’m not sure that’s the way.
I think we need to teach everyone magic. ”
“But how are you going to manage the differing powers? If everyone can read, won’t they fight over the books?” Ena frowned.
I groaned. “You’re right. We would need a library system, or some way to ensure that everyone was able to check out different powers but then return them and—ugh . . .” I rubbed my forehead. “This is more complicated than I thought.”
“I think that’s why Otho wants to erase magic entirely,” Ena whispered.
My hands stopped their motions. Ena didn’t know about the books upstairs and the fact that Otho wasn’t planning to burn them. He was planning to hide them instead, and keep them as a weapon, should he need them. I stood, brushing off the dust from the back of my breeches, intending to head inside.
“Runa?” Ena asked, still in her seated position, her back against the wall of the inn.
“Yeah?”
“When this is over, will you bond yourself to Otho?”
The scar on my hand itched, and I brought my hand up to rub it. Until that moment, I hadn’t thought about my future intertwined with Otho’s at all.
“You don’t have to, you know,” she whispered.
I didn’t have an answer; my mind couldn’t form words. Instead, I nodded my good night before walking back inside the inn and up the stairs.
Back to the room with the man who held my heart.
But maybe not my future.