Page 37 of Between Smoke and Shadow

It’s the last thought I had before falling asleep, and it’s the first thought I have when I wake this morning. A single gasp. That’s all it took for my attraction to cross from awareness to desperation. I’d known she was beautiful from the first time I saw her, obviously, but this was the first time I truly wanted toacton it.

I knew it was wrong. So wrong, so fucking inappropriate. This frightened servant at my mercy, my dirty thoughts between us. It doesn’t matter that I’d never actually kiss her—I hate that I wanted to.

I hate more that Istillwant to.

Wide blue eyes, pretty lips, and that breathy gasp echoes through my mind as I remain in bed. It’s well after daybreak at this point, meaning I’ve missed the morning meeting. Nothing ever happens at them anyway, but I’ve rarely been late…let alonemissedone. Yet here I sit, propped up in bed, watching water streak my windows and thinking of Rune Ealde.

Pale, sickly handmaiden.

Daring, secretive trespasser.

Beautiful, fucking temptation.

In the middle of the night, I got an alert that Viana’s code had been used to enter the Training Arena. Luckily I’d still been awake, and I assured the guard on duty that I’d take care of it. I’d been annoyed the entire way there, wondering what the hell she was doing. It didn’t seem likely that she’d be snooping or stealing or doing anything to risk her new status. And still, none of those options would have surprised me more than the sight of Rune Ealde swinging a sword. She’d stolen an elite’s code. She’d broken into a forbidden place. She’d taken a weapon and wasusingit.

I’d been mesmerized, watching her, stunned as she attempted to swing a sword far too big for her. Her arms had been shaking, but her mouth was set in a determined line. She hadn’t seen me, and thank Wyhel for that. I would’ve been happy watching her all night, and yet, I’d found myself moving toward her. Wanting more than distant observation.

In the daylight, I have more questions than I did last night. She’s obviously up to something, and it’s most likelynotin my favor. I should report her to Sorace, inform him that even our smallest of servants is creeping where she shouldn’t. But the thought makes me sick. I think of him and Malek, snickering about the vile things they’d like to do to her.

No. I’m not telling a fucking soul about what I saw. I’ll figure out her intentions myself, and in the meantime, I’ll use it as an excuse to see her again.

My eyes fall shut, and soon, I’m thinking more abouther. Her eyes and their unusual color: pale blue, like falling rain. Her soft, low voice, somehow both timid and brave at the same time. Her blatant curiosity and quiet intelligence.

I don’t let myself think of my urge to stroke her face, or the breathy sound she made when I did.

A heavy knock pounds at my door, shattering the moment. I shuffle beneath the covers and pretend to be sleeping. Whoeverit is—and I fear I knowexactlywho it is—can wait until our training session to bother me.

Unfortunately, Malek doesn’t take the hint. He slams his fist a few more times, and then, the door clangs open. Familiar footsteps—heavy and wide, like a charging general—stride into the room. Despite my closed eyes, he strips the blankets off my bed and drops them to the floor.

“A little old for pretending, aren’t we, brother?” he asks. He’s dressed more extravagantly than usual. He wears an unfamiliar red suit, sharply pressed and stamped with mangled claws. His crown of teeth sits squarely over his slicked black hair.

I rise to my feet and shove past Malek. As I pass the ornate wall mirror, I catch a glimpse of my haggard reflection: messy hair and shadowed eyes. I look terrible, and I’ve got a throbbing headache to match. Rather than dwell on either, I flick through a dozen red suits on display before selecting a random one.

When I turn, I’m unsurprised to find Malek watching me. He’s wearing his mischievous grin, and despite it being late morning, it’s too early to deal with this bullshit. I move to the left and head for my washroom, only for him to step into my path, blocking me.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?” he sneers.

“I assumed boredom,” I say, meeting his eyes. A smirk is already working its way over his mouth. I step to the left, and he shadows the movement. With a sigh, I stop again, centering myself in front of him. “If you want something, say it. I’ve already missed one meeting this morning. I shouldn’t miss another.”

“The Architect has called a gathering.” Malek’s smirk deepens, bringing with it an eerie spark to his expression. “He’s ready to discuss the portal.”

“With the Committee?” I ask. I hadn’t planned on entertaining Malek at all, but now I can’t help it. He grinslike I’ve reacted exactly as he hoped: equal parts shocked and horrified.

“Yes,” he drawls. “The Architect is willing to hear my plan to escape this hellish world. Sooner rather than later, that is. Seeing as you weren’t at the morning meeting, I volunteered to inform you.”

I study him, glancing from his suit to his crown before finally landing on his slanted mouth. There’s something he’s not telling me, something sinister. I can always tell by his boyish excitement, by his barely contained grin. He’s conjured a new game, and I’ve unintentionally set it in motion by missing this meeting.

“Whatever treachery you’re planning, leave me out of it,” I snap, shoving past him. He loses his balance, enough that I feel a flicker of satisfaction. His voice follows me, even after I’ve shut myself in the washroom.

“There’s no treachery here, brother!” he calls. “There is only redemption, and I will claim it for our people—with or without your help!”

“This is ridiculous,”Tora says.

We sit in the Hall B auditorium of the 198th floor. Mother strolls around the room, greeting people as if they’re close friends. She’s memorized every royal’s name and position, and she knows exactly how to use that information to her benefit. I watch her, partly fascinated, partly disgusted, until Tora nudges me with her elbow.

We’re off to the side of the room, waiting for the elites to ready the stage. They move our thrones—four metal and one bone—this way and that, never seeming quite satisfied. Malekstands at the center of it all, flirting with a pretty elite, his eyes skimming the room as they talk. In front of the stage, ten rows of tipped-chin royals settle into place. A few stare at me and Tora, but thankfully, none of them get the courage to approach us.

“Look at him,” Tora says. She tugs at her elbow-length gloves, a gift to her from Nordan Kerr, before gesturing toward our brother. “What a rat. Digging his way into places he doesn’t belong. Trying to force the Architect’s hand. Defying Mother’s requests. Going over your head. He’s an absolute fiend, Harrick! He ruinseverything, and he’s completely reckless about it.”

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