36. Runa
Runa
In the tunnels, on the way to the castle, I get lost.
When I finally find my way back, it’s hours later and night has fallen. At the top of the steps near my room, I peek out the window.
Thousands of soldiers in a triangle formation stand guard outside our castle gates. They hold their rifles the way mothers hold their babies, close to their chests.
Wardens walk around the castle. They wear red daggers strapped to their white-and-deep-green uniforms.
I imagine the Peacebroker and Sven are downstairs speaking with my dad. Or maybe Soren managed a speedy recovery, and he’s with them. I doubt it. My brother’s injuries will take a week or more to recover from.
I knock softly on our bedroom door before coming in.
Maren lies in bed with her face turned toward the moon, a tray of snacks and a bottle of wine next to her. Her puffy eyes tell me what I already know: She’s devastated. There’s no going back to Sven, not when he offended the fundamental part of who she is as a person. As a wolf.
“Where have you been?” she asks softly.
“I went to check on Soren and Ash.”
“That was hours ago.”
“I lost track of time.”
Maren pats the bed, wanting me to join her pity party, but I need a shower to remove the evidence of treason first.
She turns her head toward me. “Good Moon, Runa, you look like you fell down a chimney.”
“Close enough.” The tunnels were filthy. My eyes sting from the dust, and my lungs feel heavy from inhaling it all for hours until I found my way to the castle. “Don’t eat everything. I’m starved.”
In the shower, I strip off my clothes and leave them on the floor so the water washes away the scents of the Fireborn wolves. I don’t want anyone to smell Ash on me. Sven injected him with something terribly nasty. It stained my clothing silver-green.
I tremble as I wash my hair. The humans have surrounded the castle and the tower. They must already know that Ash has escaped. It’s only a matter of time before my dad summons everyone for questioning. They’ll want to know how Ash escaped into the middle of the storm while we were on lockdown.
Those tunnels took over three decades to build, and my father is said to have secured them by killing everyone who worked on them.
But that didn’t matter when it came to Ash’s survival.
I couldn’t let him die, even though many people would benefit if he were dead.
My life sure wouldn’t be as complicated.
Tears run down my cheeks, and I stifle a sob in the back of my throat before Maren hears it.
I can’t tell her. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
She’s in enough trouble already. We don’t know if Sven collapsed under the pressure of a broken treaty and the ineffective regulation of Ash’s fire.
We don’t know if he admitted to being with Maren and that their treaty never stood a chance.
I dry and wrap my hair in a towel, then crawl under the covers with my sister so we can wallow in self-pity together.
“We’re fucked,” I tell her.
“You’ll give me anxiety,” she says.
“You need some anxiety in your life, Maren. Maybe then you’ll fear Dad and Soren more and won’t date men who hurt you.”
“Don’t be mean, sister.”
I wipe my tears. “Someone has to say it. Since there’s nobody else who knows about you and Sven, I have to be the one to tell you he’ll never accept you as a wolf.
The look on his face when he saw your wolf form was telling.
He looked at you like you were a turd. It’s true what Ash said: They think of us as nothing more than animals. ”
“Isn’t that what we are?”
“We’re werewolves!” I shout. “I’m a werewolf.”
“Me too,” she says. “Don’t worry. I hear you loud and clear. I’m not sad that Sven and I broke up. I’m only sad I didn’t see it before. And I’m sad I disappointed Mom and Dad for no reason. Daddy really wanted this treaty.”
“I’m sorry, Maren.”
“Not your fault.”
Tears won’t stop coming. I blow my nose.
Maren hugs me, cries with me. “Runa, talk to me. You must talk to me. What is going on with you?”
“It’s nothing. Let’s just wallow in silence.”
“Let’s not.”
“Please, Maren.”
Eyes the same blue as mine soften. “Okay,” Maren agrees.
And so we wallow by staring out the window while the flames slowly die in the fireplace.