Page 50 of Destroyer

“Thank you,” said the professor. “Now. The deliberation is in an hour. See that you're not late, and come prepared.”

With that, the professor was gone again, the artifact in her arms. Ru bit her lip, worrying that something would happen — to the artifact, to Obralle. Fear swirled through her, sudden terror that the artifact might somehow be cut off from her if it were removed from her presence. But as she waited, the artifact’s soft touch never faded, never faltered. That alone quelled Ru's anxiety.

Eager for a distraction, Ru set about getting dressed. She chose an unassuming dress of brown wool with a square neckline, lace-up bodice, and buttons at the cuffs. Quickly braiding her hair in one long plait down her back, she glanced in the mirror before heading to the Great Hall.

She wondered if she would ever look alive again. Dark circles still hung under her eyes, and a bruise bloomed purple across one cheekbone. Her skin had become too pale, almost sickly, and her long brown hair was dull, even in the firelight.

It frightened her a little, the physical toll the last several days had taken on her. So much had happened, with hardly any rest in between. It occurred to her for a fleeting moment that her connection with the artifact might be nothing but a delusion, a hallucination brought on by sudden trauma.

But sheknewit was real. Felt it in her marrow.

Ru sighed and turned away from the mirror, accepting that she would look like a risen corpse at the deliberation. Her mind was going to be the thing on display after all, not her appearance.

When she eventually moved to leave, she paused on the threshold, her thoughts turning to her friends, Gwyneth and Archie. They’d know she was at the Tower by now — why hadn't they come to find her?

And Fen. Her thoughts strayed inevitably back to him, an anchor. A source of comfort from the moment she'd first heard his boots against dark earth, the deep timbre of his voice.

A sudden desire to find him, to seek him out in the Tower — if he was still there — filled Ru, and she started hurriedly down the corridor. His reassuring presence, his steady hands… And then the bells rang out, a musical chiming from one of the Tower’s highest spires, signaling the start of the deliberation.

There was no time. Cursing, Ru spun toward the Great Hall. Fen could be there, waiting for her. And Lyr. It was possible the two men had gone, knowing she was safe now, knowing she no longer needed them… but she desperately hoped not.

Ru was gnawing her lip, a sore forming between her teeth, when she finally arrived at the Great Hall. It served as the location for any kind of debate, celebration, presentation, or any other event that would draw the majority of the Tower’s residents together. For the purpose of the deliberation, the room was set up as a round table discussion. Simple wooden chairs were set up in an oval shape around a central podium, upon which stood a dark wood lectern fitted with a brass speaking horn.

Even as the bells’ echoes still rang through the Tower, Ru saw that most of the seats around the room had already been filled. She hovered just inside for a moment, taking it all in. Even amidst the unknown, the trepidation that this deliberation set curling up inside her, she felt grounded in the Tower. She had missed it. After her fieldwork at Dig Site 33, and everything since then, it was almost six weeks since she had been home.

Taking in her surroundings like a tonic, she tilted her head to gaze up at the great chandelier lamps, which hung in a cluster at the center of the ceiling. They were designed to look almost organic, as if a light-up brass and gold flower had bloomed and begun to shine right there, out of the stone of the castle.

Everything in the Tower was a bit odd — compared to what was considered normal in Mirith, at least. While the palace in the capital was all finely carved stone, the interiors clean and elegantly grand, the Tower was old and worn. Time-worn rugs were strewn across wood floors, books piled in random corners, and paintings and strange taxidermy hung along the corridors. Unlike the palace, which was grand yet distinctly distant, the Tower invited one to touch. To find comfort there.

The walls of the Great Hall were painted to represent a forest, with golden curling trees that hid unearthly creatures even Ru couldn’t name. Above the trees rose a depiction of the dark beyond, with celestial objects and stars forming pictures of animals and humans and gods.

Across the painted walls hung many tapestries, gold-framed paintings, and various medals, awards, and diplomas. Nothing here was sacred, but everything was treated with equal respect. The professors felt deeply that the Tower should be a place of learning, acceptance, and equality. In contrast to the culture of the palace, which valued station, privilege, and wealth.

Even though most of the seats were full, academics continued to trickle into the hall, laughing and jostling. Ru felt strangely disconnected from them, that carefree life gone forever now in the wake of what she’d endured. A surge of regret welled up in her, curdling into self-pity as she scanned those already seated. Looking for a familiar face.

Ru started as someone appeared at her side. Someone petite, with long blonde hair. With a rush of relief, she realized it was Gwyneth. And there was Archie, just behind her, both of them beaming.

CHAPTER17

“Ru!” cried Gwyneth, throwing herself into Ru’s arms, squeezing until Ru swore, her rib flaring in pain. “Oh no, your rib! I heard, I’m so sorry,” gasped Gwyneth. She held Ru at arm’s length then, her brown eyes filling with tears.

“Don’t start crying, you know I’m allergic to it,” said Archie. But Ru could tell he was just as glad to see her as she was to see him, his green eyes bright with relief. “Give her room to breathe.”

“I don’t need room,” Ru said, her voice cracking before she threw herself into Gwyneth’s arms again. All of her pain, the heaviness that clung to her body and mind, seemed lighter now. It was still there, like a shadow, but the presence of her friends eased its weight. “Come sit with me?”

“Obviously,” said Archie. The freckles on his nose had darkened from weeks in the field; the shadows under his eyes said he hadn’t been sleeping well. “The moment we heard… the dig site. And everything else. I’ve been sick with worry, and you know worrying doesn’t complement my eyes.”

“We’vebeen sick with worry,” Gwyneth corrected, pursing her lips and turning to scan the assembly. “We heard you met Regent Sigrun.”

“It wasn’t as fun as it sounds,” Ru muttered as they began to make their way through the assembled chairs, looking for three empty seats together. She was self-conscious of anyone overhearing. This deliberation was going to be embarrassing enough without people thinking she was a braggart.

She knew she would have to speak to the crowd, to defend herself as the most qualified candidate to lead the research of the artifact. But the thought of it made her want to melt into the floor and disappear. She had never been good at public speaking, her paper would be brought up and…

Gwyneth touched Ru’s arm lightly, interrupting her thoughts. She pointed to three seats right at the front. The three friends hurried to sit as the room grew quiet, laughter and chatter fading as Professor Thorne made his way to the lectern.

He tapped the speaking horn. “Welcome,” he said into one end, and his voice was projected across the room clearly

Ru peered around at the seated academics, searching the crowd for Fen and Lyr. For a shock of messy black hair, or a pair of heavy dark brows. But they were nowhere to be seen, and in a small rush of dread, she worried again that they had left the Tower. Left her. They had no reason to stay. Fen had fulfilled his promise to take her to the Tower, and Lyr’s duty was to the regent. He would be needed back at the palace if there were traitors in their midst.

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