Page 41 of The Seeker

I knew what he wasn’t saying though. War didn’t just end. Not without death or one side giving in. Something was still going on, something he was unwilling to divulge.

My mind moved forward, the thoughts painting a gruesome picture as I realized what Otho meant by over.

Leif would never give in.

Not willingly.

I struggled out of his grasp, barely able to draw in a breath. I nearly stumbled on the rocky terrain as I stood, but I held out a hand as Otho reached out his to steady me. “Don’t touch me,” I snapped, even as I nearly toppled into a pile, only righting myself at the last moment.

His hand dropped back down, and I could feel his sadness at being rejected—though far less than normal considering I’d taken a double dose of the poison that morning. “I’m sorry, Runa,” he pleaded, but I didn’t feel any regret coming from him.

My mind spun. Although I’d never loved Leif—never truly—I felt a tear in my chest knowing that someone who had been there for me, someone I had once considered to be a friend, would never speak to me again.

I felt guilt knowing that someone’s life had been ended over me.

I glanced around like a rabbit caught in a trap. I wanted to run. From my emotions, from having to tell Otho I was angry at him . . . from everything.

I could feel Otho’s gray eyes on me, judging me for caring about the death of a man who had hurt me, and I couldn’t handle it. My gaze began to dart, searching for a way out of this camp. It was too oppressive here; there were too many eyes fixed on me.

Too many people were disappointed that I was reacting this way. My chest burned with their combined emotions.

“Don’t run. Here.” Otho lifted the flap of the nearest tent, and I didn’t even look before I dove in.

The flap closed behind me, cutting off the light of the two moons, saving me from kicking Otho out. It was his tent—I could tell by the vague woodsy smell I’d come to associate with him. The tent was set up with only two bedrolls rolled out next to one another, leaving a small space in the corner for bags.

He’d known he would find me tonight.

I smelled nothing but Otho as I buried my face in the pillow, relief flowing through my shoulders. I hated that his smell alone relaxed my body. While I was grieving the death of a man who, though misguided, likely didn’t deserve the gruesome end he’d received because of me.

And I knew no matter what Otho thought, the death and killing was not over. Something was still amiss in Heimland.

My hand brushed my palm, feeling the raised scar there.

I was no longer a bonded woman.

It felt like my chest had been torn open, the very essence spilling onto the bedroll below me. I wasn’t crying for Leif alone, but for everyone who once been a part of my life who was no longer there—their lives stolen from them by a war they didn’t consent to.

I must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, someone was shaking my shoulder. I jolted awake, breathing hard as I returned to consciousness.

“It’s me.” The voice was Ena’s, and my shoulders relaxed even though I secretly couldn’t wait to see Otho again, as much as I lied to myself and said I didn’t.

We would fix things between us, that was inevitable, but I wanted to hold on to my anger for as long as possible. I wanted him to admit he’d been wrong when he’d gone against my wishes. I wanted to feel in control of what was to come in my life. Something Otho hadn’t honored when he’d come for me against my wishes.

I realized Ena was still looking at me expectantly. I scrubbed the sleep from my eyes. “What happened?”

“It’s morning, and we need to move.”

It was a struggle to draw breath into my lungs, my body still aching from the night before. “You really think we should go with them?”

Ena tilted her ear to the cloth ceiling, and I understood then that we couldn’t discuss what she really wanted to say here. “I think it is better if we are in a large group.” Her words were practiced, measured, and again, I was impressed by how much she inherently knew how to act when it came to keeping her motives secret. She was a natural spy.

I rose from the bedroll, grimacing at the state of my clothing. It had already been dirty when I’d chosen the outfit days before, but the roll down the hill had made it worse for wear. The shirt was torn now, barely covering my brassiere, and the breeches, though they didn’t have holes, would soon be threadbare where they wrapped around my thighs.

Still, there was no other option. Ena held open the tent flap as I climbed out into the early morning air.

The fire was embers, and Askel and Karl moved around the camp, packing. There were a few more men I didn’t recognize helping, one of whom noticed our emergence and held out two rolls of bread in our direction.

Starving, I grabbed the bread, consuming it in a few bites.