Page 70 of Between Smoke and Shadow

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Tora admits, snorting out a laugh.

“Did you also hear I broke off our betrothal?”

“Youwhat?” she asks, turning to face me. “What are you talking about, Harrick?”

I shrug in response. There’s nothing else to say, really. I was mostly just wondering if news had circulated yet.

“Mother will never let you,” she says, eyes wide. “You aren’t allowed to break a betrothal.”

“I’m not asking for permission,” I say. I think back to what Rune Ealde told me, about having something to fight for. This might be the first time I feel like I do.

TWENTY-THREE

RUNE

“I’m glad you’re all right,” Vale tells me as we enter the twenty-seventh level corridor. I’ve been back in the Tower for a few days now, but this was our first chance to break away unnoticed.

A blackened sky watches us from the elongated windows, and this section of the Tower is blissfully quiet. According to Vale—who heard from Alven—the Committee is meeting tonight regarding Harrick’s broken betrothal. He gave me a curious glance as he told me, but he didn’t push for information like I expected. I’m sure Alven told him many things about our trip, like the fact I rode in Harrick’s carriage and shared his room, and that he savedbothof us from hunters.

If Vale is suspicious or confused by any of it, he doesn’t say.

“Me too,” I say, realizing it’s been a beat too long. “Yeah, I’m feeling much better now.”

“Alven was sure you were going to die,” Vale says. “He saw you when Harrick brought you back and swore you might already be dead.”

“Did he remember the number?” I ask, trying to change the subject. I don’t know what to say about Harrick. I can’t tell Vale how gentle he is, or the fact he risked his life to save my own. I’m definitely not ready to admit I’ve felt strange ever since Harrickbrought me back to life. Even now, I stretch and flex my fingers, half-expecting magic to appear.

“He did,” Vale says. He glances sideways at me. “Wouldn’t have done me much good if you’d died though. I still don’t know where we’re going.”

“We’re almost there,” I say, rather than admitting I don’t really know either. Once we find Berg’s hidden elevator, I have no idea what waits for us.

Minutes later, we stop at the end of the final hallway at a locked door. It’s identical to several others, but I’m sure we’re in the right place. That being said, I have no idea how old Berg’s information is. He certainly didn’t appear like he’d lived in the Tower recently. Whatever secret he thinks we’ll find here might be long gone.

I suck in a lungful of air. Hesitating isn’t going to do us any good. If anything, it might get us caught. I type the number before I lose my confidence.

846538.

I open the door, fingers trembling. I don’t allow myself to look at Vale or even over my own shoulder. I’m too busy moving, through the door, onto an all-metal lift. It smells like iron and the air is stale, like oxygen doesn’t often get circulated here.

There’s another keypad, and as soon as Vale’s closed the door behind us, I am again typing Berg’s code. It feels almost too easy, the way the lift rumbles at the final number and sinks us deeper into the Tower. I glance at Vale, and his expression mirrors my own worry.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” I ask. My voice echoes in the tiny space, and I flinch at the sound.

“No. Berg’s good,” he says. I pretend I don’t hear the nervousness in his voice.

We don’t speak for the rest of the ride. By the time the lift settles at our destination, my stomach is tangled in knots, uglyand ravenous. The metal doors slide open, and an instantaneous chill blankets around us.

I can barely think straight. Between my nerves and this unheated dungeon, I’m shaking where I stand. I clutch my arms, rubbing heat into them, before leading the way off the lift. Thankfully, Vale is only a step behind. He remains a shadow in my peripheral, head tilting as he takes in the black room around us.

“What is it?” I ask. My voice sounds more awed than I’d like, but I can’t help it. I’ve never seen so many lights in one place. There must be hundreds of tiny lanterns in here, all dyed red to imitate glimmers of magic. They float in symmetrical rows, stacking back as far as I can see. Forget hundreds…this room hasthousandsof red orbs floating through the dark.

“I think…” Vale starts, only to swallow the rest of his sentence. He takes a few more steps, finally bypassing me. Aside from the red lights, it’s pitch black in here, leaving us silhouetted in the dark. “I think it’smagic.”

I blink wordlessly at the nearest shelves, trying to process Vale’s words.Magic.Not mimicked, but real.

If that’s true, if this is bottled magic lining the hundreds of shelves before us…there has to be enough to save Savoa. Enough to fertilize the farmlands, to fatten the livestock, to mine for every jewel and precious metal, to rebuild the destroyed city. There’s enough to cure the sick, to feed the starving, to free every servant from their debt.

“No,” I say. It comes out as a cracked sob because there’s no way. It’s impossible. No one would do this—butHarrick…Harrick wouldnever.

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