Chapter 31
“Ryle.” He looked much the same as when I’d last seen him on the journey to Shianp. My mouth dried, and my gaze nervously darted to the side as I wondered how he was here.
And if Otho knew he was here.
“Can we talk?” I asked her, hoping she would hear what I left unsaid.
“Ryle’s my advisor; he sits in on all political discussions,” she informed me, her blue eyes sparkling.
“This is a personal matter,” I specified. It wasn’t, but I definitely wasn’t about to say anything with Ryle in the room.
It worked. “Ryle, can you give me a moment with my cousin?”
“Of course,” he replied in an even tone, crossing the room and closing the door behind him. It was a challenge not to glare at his back.
I chewed on my bottom lip, remembering how I’d been able to eavesdrop moments before. “Maybe we can take a walk outside?”
Her emotions clouded in an instant, and she straightened. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, but . . . the walls here have ears.”
She nodded, and I followed her from the room.
We remained silent while we walked the halls, and to my surprise, she led me to my favorite spot by the lake without my having to ask.
She remained standing, however, her back to the palace.
I followed suit, noticing the shadows of guards standing every few feet along the palace walls.
Peace didn’t mean safe.
“What is it you wanted to discuss, Runa?” she asked, yanking me from my thoughts.
I debated what topic to start with, eventually deciding just to come out with it. “I don’t trust Ryle.”
She arched an eyebrow, but didn’t immediately dismiss me, which was something. “Why is that?”
“Otho paid him to change sides, to turn on Leif just before Malheim fell. Then, when we were traveling together, he disappeared one night without word—without telling Otho. He just left.”
She was silent, clasping her hands together and pressing them to the underside of her chin. “I didn’t know that.”
“I figured not.” It was easier to exhale now, with that off my chest. “I’m not saying send him away, as that could cause more problems . . . but be careful. Someone who can be bought once can be bought again. And I don’t think he feels allegiance to any particular side.”
“I know.” She breathed deeply several times, and I admired how she appeared in those moments, standing on the edge of pond, her back straight.
She appeared regal.
“What else did you want to talk to me about?”
I smiled sadly. “I . . . I wanted to make sure you were okay. I hadn’t seen you since . . . before. Friar said you’d been hurt. And I wanted you to know that I was okay, too. Don’t listen to any other . . . information you may receive.”
She chuckled. “Otho visits frequently, you know.”
“I figured,” I answered honestly, remembering his shadow on the horizon hours before. “He knows to stay away from me.”
“Is it . . . is it really such an awful thing? Being the son of the king?” She turned to me then, and I knew without asking that she’d discussed me at length with Friar.
“Would you like the lie or the truth?” I asked, not bothering to hide my ire.
“Alright, point made.” She turned her gaze forward.
A breeze blew through, catching on the tendrils of my hair, and I winced at the realization that I hadn’t braided it since the attack—I probably looked a mess. Suddenly self-conscious, I knelt down, using the cool lake water to wash my face.
When I stood, Collum spoke once more. “What happened to us, Runa? We used to be so close.”
I struggled to swallow over the lump in my throat.
“War, Collum. That’s what happened.” I sighed, knowing I needed to ask the next question, but not wanting to.
It was something I’d been thinking about since Signa’s death.
“Do you have any of the books left? There should have been one in Leif’s quarters, in the bedside drawer. ”
She frowned. “What are you going to do with them?”
“I’m not sure yet. But as the coven leader, I believe I need to take a catalog of what we have and ensure the books are used for good from now on.
” I twisted my hands together. I hadn’t revealed the next part of my plan to anyone else yet, but now seemed as good a time as any.
“The Seid meant for magic to be an equalizer. I plan to try that again. I’ll start a school, or lessons—available to all.
To ensure everyone has a chance to learn to read and use magic. ”
“That . . . That’s a good idea,” Collum surmised, but I could feel a tingle of her underlying disbelief. “But that will be impossible with only you . . . there would be too many people and . . . and do we really want everyone to have magic?”
There was the answer I’d been digging for.
“Collum, the gods who invented magic meant for it to be for everyone, that’s why they put it in books.
I understand some powers were too deadly for a society that doesn’t always see the same way but .
. .” I took a deep breath, preparing for the stand I was about to take.
“If it can’t be for everyone, then it needs to be for no one.
As the coven leader of the Westwood’s coven, I will not stand for the hoarding of magic any longer.
If you do not agree to make it available for everyone, I will not stop until I have destroyed every book on the continent, and whatever magic is available dies with our generation. ”
Collum gulped. “It’s not that I don’t want everyone—”
“You just said,” I corrected her. “You asked me if we really wanted everyone to have magic.” I took in a shaky breath. “Everyone means everyone. No exceptions.”
She said nothing, her gaze fixed straight ahead.
“I’ll leave first thing in the morning with all the books you have. Either we move forward with plans for everyone to learn, or I will start my plan to destroy the books. You decide.”
She still said nothing, and I could feel her indecision.
“I assume my old chambers are available. I’ll await your decision there,” I snapped before storming off.
Truly, I had not considered how it would affect me to see the rooms where I’d been kept prisoner when I’d spoken in anger to Collum. And it wasn’t until I pushed open the unguarded room to a sitting area covered in a thick layer of dust that I allowed the tears to escape my eyes.
Allowing myself to grieve what I’d lost in this space.
Although Leif hadn’t truly broken me, he’d stolen my respect, my awe, for love.
What I’d once thought to be something beautiful, magical even, felt like nothing more than a curse now.
I pushed past the couch, slipping into the dark bedroom.
It was exactly as I left it.
The bed wasn’t even made; there were still clothes on the floor that I’d tossed aside that morning in my haste to find the source of the screaming. The curtain was closed, and I pushed it open to allow the small ray of remaining sunlight in the room.
In a trance, I pulled a traveling bag from the wardrobe, moving to the side that had once been mine to pack the dresses that had been made for me. Although I didn’t really want to wear them, I would need more clothes than what I currently owned.
After the dresses I wanted to keep filled the bulk of the bag, I moved to the bedside table, pulling open the drawer to find the book of whispers also where I left it. I pressed it into the bag, closing the top.
I eyed the few pieces of jewelry Leif had ordered for me, but they were next to the few items he had owned, and I knew I would never be able to touch them.
I tried to sit on the bed, but the more time I spent in the room, the worse I felt.
Instead, I grabbed the bag, returning to the less offensive sitting room.
I used one of the towels to brush the dust off of the couch before sinking down in front of the empty fireplace.
I wanted to light a fire, but I didn’t know where I would find logs, or kindling .
. . and I didn’t know any of the servants I could call.
I truly didn’t live here anymore.
Standing, I picked up my bag and left the room, heading to the only other room that had once been mine—the one I’d stayed in before Leif forced me to bond with him.
It was easy to find, and the door was unlocked. Unlike the bedroom I’d stayed in with Leif, this one was well kept, and a quick survey confirmed there weren’t bags or clothing belonging to another guest in the wardrobe.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything besides the small bit of jerky on the road, but once I lay down in the bed, everything that had happened crashed into me, and my body refused to stand back up.
I would worry about food tomorrow.