Page 85 of The Seeker

“Before,” she said with a sigh. “For what it’s worth, Runa, I’m really sorry. But it wasn’t my place to say anything.”

“Why? Because you’re a woman? Because Otho is my weighted? Because last I checked, friends told friends the truth, even when said friends are dating their brother.”

She hung her head, and I tasted her guilt. “I know I should have told you. Otho wanted to be the one to do so, and it was a matter of secrecy when Adis was alive . . .”

This new information had me arching my eyebrow. “Why would it be a secret that Adis’s general was the prince?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t like that. Adis knew. The only reason Otho became his general was to placate Adis,” She pinched her eyes shut before continuing. “My father was . . . unhappy with the Purge, and he began planning shortly after as to how he could remove Adis and Hansen from power. The problem was, he knew merely telling them they were no longer viscounts would lead to rebel groups and uprisings. He hoped, with enough time, and the right people in position, he could take back control of Heimland . . . with less civilian bloodshed.”

“And by the right people, he meant his children?” My blood was still boiling, but I knew I needed to hear what Friar had to say. I needed to understand the aspect of Heimland’s politics that had been hidden from me and resulted in my humiliation.

“Yes.” There was no happiness on her face, no sparkle in her eye. “I hadn’t wanted to do it, and originally it was only supposed to be Cal and Otho. But then Cal fell in love with Salheim⁠—”

“Otho said you grew up there.”

“We did,” she affirmed. “Our father . . . he’s a good man, Runa. He wanted us to have an upbringing with the people . . . not as royalty. He knew that was the only way we would understand the plights of the people we were to one day rule. And Otho . . . while he wasn’t truthful about our father, we did lose our mother in the Purge—the same time as you.”

Tears shone in her gaze and she blinked them away. Despite my anger, I knew what it felt like to lose a parent, and I couldn’t stop the hand that wasn’t holding Signa’s from coming up to rest on her shoulder.

“She wasn’t supposed to leave Salheim. My father knew Adis’s father and the Hansen family were bad news. He demanded she stay in Salheim and to send for whatever we needed but . . .” She sniffled, brushing a stray tear from her freckled cheek. “She was of Seid birth, and she’d missed the coven she’d grown up in when she’d moved to Shianp to marry my father. It’s why she didn’t put up a fight to leaving royalty behind to live out here. She was never going to listen—she knew that when she made the promise, and it-it killed her in the end.”

“I’m sorry, Friar.” I breathed, pulling her into a half hug, still unwilling to release Signa’s hand. “I know how hard it is.”

A sad smile flickered across Friar’s lips. “For what it’s worth, she was a great mother, and I got to have her for a little longer than you got to have yours, but she’s the reason I still see Signa, and that I’m here now. They were old friends.”

As much as everything she said made sense, there was still one thing I didn’t understand. “But Otho said your parents were weighted. How did your father survive losing your mother?”

Friar’s face crumpled and she gulped several times before replying, “He nearly didn’t. It’s what brought me into healing . . . I was desperate to find something, anything to bring him back to the man he once was. At first, he barely left his room, and I knew it couldn’t continue . . . otherwise the continent would fall to ruin. I began to experiment and—” Her eyes flashed to the pouch, which I’d forgotten was looped over my shoulder.

“You knew I took the belladonna from your room.” My words were barely above a whisper.

She nodded. “It’s the only thing that can quiet the bond.”

I didn’t know what to say and I chose instead to watch Signa, allowing Friar a moment to compose herself. My anger at Otho still burned bright, especially considering he’d lied to me directly, but I knew I couldn’t hold my anger at Friar. She was one of the few friends I had left. And I’d made mistakes too, in not trusting our relationship enough to ask her for the belladonna.

“Please tell me we can be friends again,” she begged, her voice still shaky.

I turned to her, unable to stop the smile on my lips. “Of course, Friar. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you in Ralheim. I just felt so . . . out of control, and I didn’t handle it well. For that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Runa. I should have told you more. I didn’t know what magic Leif had and⁠—”

“None, in the end. Well, besides whatever was read to him in Ralheim.” I cut her off. “You should know me better than that, Friar. The book I ‘read’ to him . . . I skipped several words so he wouldn’t have the magic. I also burned all the books I found there except one and he missed most of the readings in Ralheim.” I grimaced, remembering we would need to discuss that at some point.

“Runa.” Friar’s breath was coming out in gasps. “What do you mean in the end?”

My lungs constricted, and it was a battle to force the next words through my lips. “Otho said . . . you killed Leif?”

She shook her head, her mouth dropping open. “Runa, no—I mean I couldn’t⁠—”

“You mean . . .”

She nodded. “Leif is still alive.”

CHAPTER 28

Iwas certain my heart would stop beating and that I would breathe my last at that admission, but somehow, I was eventually able to gulp down air. Probably thanks to Friar physically shaking me back to the present.

When I regained my composure, I fought to swallow over the lump in my throat and asked, “Where—Where is he?”