Page 92 of Destroyer

“Do you remember when we first rode into Mirith?” Ru said, the wide northern sky threatening to swallow her.

They were in the western courtyard, sitting under one of its fruit trees. Sunlight fell in irregularities across their faces, dancing in concert with gusts of soft wind. Only a few wisps of cloud drifted across the otherwise clear blue sky.

Fen murmured assent. “You were happy to be home. I remember you craning your neck in the saddle, grinning at everything. Even the mundane things.”

“And you told me you didn’t have somewhere like that. A home to return to.” Ru turned to Fen, who was gazing at the sky with a far-off expression. “You said you didn’t deserve something like that.”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, then let out a sigh. “If I told you I’d been joking, would you believe me?”

“No.”

Fen sat in silence for a moment, thoughtful. “There’s a reason I haven’t opened up to you about… well.” He motioned to himself as a whole. “It’s been a long time since I met someone like you. Someone Iwantedto know. I was alone often as a child. Left to whatever whims and devices I fancied. My mother died when I was very young, and my father was always away, or locked in his office. He rarely spoke to me or my brothers, so I spent a lot of time with my nose buried in books, as you know. When I was tall enough to handle a horse on my own, I would ride into the nearest city to visit its libraries. I shouldn’t have to tell you, I also managed to get myself into plenty of ridiculous scrapes.”

He laughed softly, and he was so lost in recounting his memories that Ru said nothing, worried that any word from her might snap him out of this reverie. She wondered what city he’d grown up near; his accent wasn’t Mirithan.

“Once, I broke into an old woman’s house,” he continued, a gentle breeze ruffling the collar of his shirt as he spoke. “She was supposedly a witch, according to the legends of children. It was on a dare from some of the orphans who ran the streets of the city — they’d said she was out, that I’d be safe from curses. She was home, of course. Scared the living daylights out of me when she appeared, silhouetted in a doorway. I’ll never forget the pure terror I felt then, still wet behind the ears. But she was surprisingly kind and made us tea and fed me cookies.

“Her name was Althea. I saw her many times after that. She became a sort of mother to me, in the absence of my own. She taught me… she taught me about the world and how it worked, how powerful families like mine often took every opportunity to crush anything and anyone weaker than ourselves. It was as if a whole universe opened up to me and I felt, for the first time, that I might amount to something in my life.”

Fen paused then, rubbing a hand over his face. “Althea made me promise toalwaysfight for others less fortunate than myself, for good. No matter what. But as I grew older, I visited her less and less. And I found myself in a situation that… Well, I strayed from that promise. In the worst way. I’ll never do enough penance to cleanse myself of it.”

Sensing that the story had come to an end, Ru reached out until her little finger brushed against Fen’s in the grass. “You’re a good person, Fen. I sensed it from the moment we met. Everything you’ve done for me, the danger you put yourself in, surely it’s made up for whatever mistakes you made in the past.”

With a sharp intake of breath, as if just remembering Ru was there, he pulled his hand away and sat up. “You can’t know that.”

“I know that you shouldn’t punish yourself for the rest of your life,” said Ru, an unbidden sadness rising in her. Only she deserved that.

Fen stood, brushing grass from his trousers. “I can,” he said. “There are some things I will never deserve, and you are one of them.”

He left her there in the courtyard, under the wide sky. She sat for a long time afterward, cross-legged in the grass. What could he have done? How long ago had it been? But no answers came, of course, and when the sun began its descent toward the horizon, she brushed herself off and went back to the one thing she kept returning to, again and again.

CHAPTER32

The artifact was quieter than usual. Its incessant gravitational pull on Ru could be ignored at a distance, when she wasn’t overcome with emotion. But close to the stone, she could almost feel a physical vibration against the core of her, needy, pulling at that invisible tether. Sitting across from it as she now did, alone in the gloom of the dungeon with only one lamp lit, she imagined what it would be like to hold it again.

She would never again be so thoughtless, and she guessed the artifact knew it too. Nor would she speak to it through their connection. She’d more than learned her lessons. But now, her chin resting on her arms as she looked at the amber reflection of lamplight on its irregular surface, she tried to remember what the stone had felt like, cool against her skin.

And as she gazed at that small black thing, no larger than a man’s closed fist, she was convinced the artifact sensed her, understood her.

The thought was pure fantasy, but so was the artifact. It shouldn’t exist, shouldn’t do the things it did, shouldn’t be apartof Ru the way that it was, and yet… there it sat.

The hum of the Tower’s residents preparing for Lord D’Luc’s party didn’t penetrate this deep into the bowels of the building. The dungeon was quiet, almost comforting in the wake of the previous day’s events.

It was all so silly, she thought, the welcoming party. There was no reason for it to take place tonight, or at all, and yet there would be music and drink and dancing. She loved parties, normally, but this one filled her with an unnamable unease. So instead of braiding her hair and putting on her best gown, she was here. Saying what amounted to goodbye.

She was determined to keep the artifact at the Tower. She would do anything in her power to keep it there. But there was always the possibility that her stubbornness and determination would amount to nothing, that the artifact would be wrenched from her nevertheless.

It was this possibility that had brought her down to the dungeon, for one last look at the thing that had caused her so much wonder, so much pain. One last look before everything changed, one way or another.

A step sounded on the stone stairs behind her.

She spun, slightly alarmed, not expecting anyone to come here so close to the start of the party.

Least of all Fen.

As he stepped into the dim light, Ru’s breath caught in her throat. His tall, slender figure was emphasized in a dark green waistcoat, starched cream shirt collar, frothing neckpiece, and polished black boots. A brocade jacket hung at his elbow. His hair was wild as always, but Ru had become unspeakably fond of it.

“Fen,” she said, her heart speeding. “Were you— are you going to the party?”