Page 100 of Destroyer

Ru moved toward him, aching for closeness, but he backed away. How had she lost the thread of this conversation so completely? How wasshenow the one desperate for forgiveness?

“Notperform,” she said, “not… not all of it, just the light. When we held hands. Not for enjoyment, for research. Fen, what choice do we have?”

Ignoring her question, he said, “I thought perhaps you would think more highly of this evening, of our moment in the dungeon, than to use it as a means of continuing your little project.”

“Ourlittle project,” spat Ru, anger boiling up again. “You know how much it means to me. My plan isn’t as terrible as you’re making it out to be. I wasn’t going to… to…withLord D’Luc, I…” She paused to draw cool night air into her lungs, to try to collect herself. Her heart ached. “Whatever you’re imagining, it’s wrong. This is my life too, Fen. I need this. I need to know what the artifact is, what it does, why I… why it choseme.Why all of this happened. Part of me believes I’m no better than Taryel, and I need to know why. You’re just a bystander. A stranger who fell into this mess by chance. You can’t possibly understand.”

There was a long moment of strained silence.

Fireflies continued their dance overhead. Moonlight fell on Fen’s hair, painting it blue-black. As Ru looked up at his face, she almost felt as if her heart was breaking and reforming and breaking again.

“I would let you use me,” said Fen at last, in such a quiet voice that Ru had to strain to hear him. “Without question, in any way you liked. I would be your instrument, your servant. Your machine. But this…” he shook his head, looking away. “You’ve asked too much.”

He turned and strode toward the Tower before she could react or respond. She stood there in frozen confusion as if a blade of ice had stabbed her clean through the chest.

CHAPTER34

Ru’s pain and distraction were so great the next morning that she nearly ran full-speed into Gwyneth outside the mess hall.

“There you are,” Gwyneth said breathlessly, reacting quickly enough to avoid a collision and catching Ru by the shoulder as she made to barrel aimlessly past. “You’re late. Why do you look… like shit? God, forget food, we’ve got to get down to the dungeon. I don’t know what idiocy you’ve contrived with Lord D’Luc, but he and his Children are there now, claiming you made some promise of a demonstration this morning? Confirm or deny?”

“Confirm,” Ru said in a deadened voice. She did look like shit. She hadn’t changed since the night before, hadn’t fixed her hair, hadn’t glanced in a mirror. She probably looked like death warmed over.

She should have warned the others, should have made an effort, should have been the first in the dungeons that morning with coffee and a sharp mind. Instead, she had gone straight to bed after her argument with Fen and drunk an entire bottle of her reserve wine, which she kept under the bed for emergencies.

Her head was pounding. She needed a very large and very greasy breakfast, and she had no intention of hurrying anywhere.

“Where’s Fen.” She sounded like a toad with a mouthful of gravel.

“How should I know?” Gwyneth said, her voice shrill. “I thought he’d be with you. Comeon, everyone’s waiting.”

“Need food,” said Ru, wrenching her arm from Gwyneth’s grip and continuing into the mess hall. Her friend trailed closely behind, making sounds of anxiety and reminding her to please hurry as Ru picked up various items from the nearest table, plopping them unceremoniously onto her plate.

“Ru, Lord D’Luc iswaiting,” Gwyneth hissed as Ru reached for a cinnamon roll, hesitated, then went for a rasher of bacon instead.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Ru. “There’s no demo… demonstr… there’s nothing. Not happening.”

“What do you mean, not happening? Ru, he’s going to revoke his support. Everyone is there. All the professors — well, except for Acorn and Thorne, they’re still sick in bed. But everyoneelse!”

Ru shrugged, grabbing the entire platter of bacon from the table and sliding its contents onto her own plate, ignoring the protests of everyone seated at the table.

“What happened?” Gwyneth said in a gentler voice, apparently just noticing that Ru wasn’t exactly behaving like herself. “What’s wrong?”

Her plate loaded up with bacon, eggs, and a last-second cinnamon roll balanced on top, Ru turned to face Gwyneth at last. “Gwyn… grab me a coffee, will you? My hands are full.”

She had no desire to explain, no urge to clarify, no energy to do anything but eat and go back to bed.

Gwyneth hadn’t seen Fen, which meant he wasn’t in the dungeon. He wasn’t going to come to the dungeon at all today, he wouldn’t tomorrow, and he wouldn’t the next. Ru knew this with an unshakeable certainty. He had angered her last night, frustrated her, made her want to slap a welt across his impertinent cheek.

But somehow, she had managed to cut him even deeper, in a way she didn’t understand. And in her hungover stupor, she now suspected that she never would. Whatever had begun to bloom between her and Fen, whatever delicate unfurling of the heart, she had crushed it with her stupid, clumsy hands.

“Ru,” Gwyneth’s voice was verging on desperate. “Lord D’Luc expects…”

But Ru was already heading for the door, breakfast plate held almost reverently, her one comfort. Gwyneth followed her for a while, protesting, bouncing from pleading to angry to worried. Their project would be scrapped, she warned. The artifact would be taken, she cried. Ru’s reputation was on the line.

None of that mattered to Ru, now. Her academic career was nothing to her, the artifact a terrible footnote in her life. They could take it from her, cart it away to the palace, and give it to the regent to fondle and study. They could snap the tether between them and grind the black stone into dust for all she cared. She suspected such a thing would hurt, more deeply and viscerally than anything physical possibly could. But that pain would be nothing. A whisper, a scratch, a joke compared to what it would feel like if she…

Hot, angry tears blurred the edges of her vision.

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