Page 49 of The Seeker

I didn’t answer, choosing instead to continue walking until I was directly in front of him. “You would do that?” I whispered.

“Of course, Runa.” He pinched his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair. “I know I haven’t been my usual self lately, and I’m sorry. There’s just . . . a lot changing . . .” I thought he was insinuating between us, as I felt it too, but he quickly added, “In Heimland, I mean.”

I raised my eyebrows, but shifted the pack from my back nonetheless, allowing Otho to load it onto his front. “I can take it back in a while,” I offered, chewing on my lip.

“No need.” He turned and began to walk again. I thought we were about to ignore what he’d insinuated, but he surprised me when he spoke again. “I really am sorry, Runa, for everything. I should never have let Leif take you that day. And I should have come for you right away. You were correct—I put it off because it was easier for me. I never stopped to think that it would be harder for you. And now that I have thought about it, I feel terrible. Then I made things worse when I declined your request for space and came for you immediately instead of giving you some time for yourself. I’m so sorry.”

My heart melted at his words—at the apology I’d been waiting for all this time. But there was something else laced underneath. “I feel selfish now,” I admitted. “It was petty of me to hold on to my anger like that.”

Otho stopped, turning to face me. It was awkward, with both a backpack on his pack and on his front, but he reached for my cheek, brushing his thumb down the side. “You deserve to be selfish, Runa. You’ve spent your whole life doing things for others, and I forgot that it extended to me. I told you I would come for you and . . . there’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have waited so long.”

I itched to be closer to him and wished desperately that we were somewhere other than a mountain with a pack between us. “I accept your apology. I want to hug you but . . .”

“Can I kiss you instead?”

Heat bloomed on my cheeks, and I nodded my consent.

He leaned in, the backpack pressing into my chest as his lips met mine, sending a shock through my body. My magic was immediately happy, and I could feel it coming to life beneath my skin as our lips danced, despite the poison.

Otho kissed me like a man starving, his lips devouring mine. Eventually, desperate for air and afraid I would fall backward with the way the backpack was pushing into me, I broke the kiss, my hand coming to rest on his cheek, his dark stubble pushing into my palm.

This was the Otho I knew and loved.

“I missed you,” I whispered as we both panted.

“I missed you too,” he breathed. “And I will grovel for the rest of my life for your forgiveness over not rescuing you sooner.”

My lips broke into a half-smile.

“I’m serious,” he argued. “Don’t forgive me because you feel selfish, Runa. I want you to be mad at me as long as you want—until you feel I’ve earned my forgiveness.”

I shook my head. “You’re already forgiven, Otho. You know⁠—”

“Hey, if you two are done kissing up there, we want to stop for lunch!”

My cheeks heated a second time at the shout from below. The voice was undoubtedly Karl, who could now see that I wasn’t carrying his backpack as promised.

Otho smiled one of his rare smiles, which showed off his white teeth, chuckling as he turned forward. “Guess this means I get to carry your backpack the whole way.”

I forced a laugh, mad at myself because I didn’t have a chance to finish my conversation with Otho.

Because I had secrets I needed to confess.

That night, as we prepared for bed, I sat along the tree line after rinsing my face in the cool creek, debating exactly how I would tell Otho I was consuming poison, when a shout drew my attention.

I turned to the commotion, watching as Askel, Karl, and Otho tucked their heads together above the stone Karl had been using to divide and press the deer meat.

The conversation was quick, then the men spread out, peering in tents, around trees, and I watched as Otho headed back toward the river I’d just come from.

My eyes connected with Ena, who had been sitting by the fire as Askel approached me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, picking at my fingernails nervously at the wave of concern that flowed out of Askel.

“It’s Ryle,” he panted. “He’s gone.”

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.