Page 15 of The Iron Dagger
“Treason? I couldn’t, my Sight was—”
A sickeningcrunchcut off her mother’s words. Hara watched through a crack in the floorboards as one of the men took her mother by the hair and began to drag her out. Her mother screamed then, and she clutched the door frame as they pulled.
Raw welts sizzled upon her skin, and Hara realized they wore gloves of iron like finely woven chainmail. Her ragged cry halted abruptly as one of the men knocked her unconscious, and then her hands went limp from the doorframe and they pulled her away. The sound of tramping boots, lewd jokes, and horse hooves faded into the distance.
Hara stayed beneath the floor for the rest of that night and the next day.
Time stretched as she lingered in that cramped space, the fear seizing her chest and locking her hands where they were still clamped over her mouth. Hours passed before she realized that she had wet herself, and her damp skin burned with discomfort.
When she finally moved, sensing the darkness outside, her joints ached with stiffness. Seraphine let out low yowls, pacing above her with soft footfalls.
Hara pushed up on the floorboards and climbed out, taking up the cat in her arms, and then she ran. She ran with terror driving her steps, carrying her south.
Eventually she stumbled into a village, and she begged every villager she met if they knew of a healer called Merowyn. Most shunned the ragged girl, disgust pinching their faces at her tear-streaked cheeks and soiled clothing.
So she went to another village, and another. She ran for weeks, sleeping when she could and stealing scraps, until finally she found the cottage.
Hara inhaled sharply, rising from the altar of the fallen tree as though she were surfacing from the depths of a lake. Her hands were shaking and weak, and her heart skittered as quickly as a rabbit’s. Performing deep magic made her feel as though she had fasted for a week. An ache settled deeply into her joints. She flexed her fingers a few times to loosen the stiffness, and then she turned to Gideon.
He did not look well. His eyes were wide and his hands were trembling. His lips kept tensing and releasing as though he were about to weep or vomit, and they were pale. She felt like reaching out to comfort him, but she knew that in order for him to understand, he needed to feel everything she had felt. Her memories were his now.
“How did . . . ” He shook his head. “I felt as though Iwasyou. I could feel the straw sticking into my back, and when they took my mother—yourmother . . . ”
There were shining tear tracks on his hollow cheeks, and the tip of his nose was red. He wiped it, giving a deep sniff, then he turned raw eyes to her.
“My father helped Corvus do this. He assembled the witch hunters to make the arrests.”
“Yes.”
“Hara, I’m . . . I’m so sorry. I know it is not enough, it could never be enough, but I am sorry.”
Hara had kept herself calm up until this point, but at his words she felt rage surge inside her.
“You’re only sorry because now my memory is your memory. You knew your father helped destroy the Ilmarinens and the court, but you never cared enough to question it. Only now that we share the same pain, you feel remorse.”
“Hara,” He raised his hands, as though to take her by the arms, but she jerked away from him.
“I healed you because that is what I am—a healer. But your father hunted us down like we were prey. I am a bird feeding a cuckoo chick that has overtaken her nest, so large and monstrous, demanding care while it kills the other babies.”
Hara got to her feet and moved several paces away from Gideon, her hand coming to her mouth. He stood as well, and even through her rage she could see helpless, deep sadness in his eyes.
“Hara, I swear to you, I’ll . . . ask my father what happened, or—”
“Now you’ll ask. Now that you have seen a glimpse of the hurt he’s caused. Now that it painsyou. Now you will talk to him.”
“What do you want me to say?” he said angrily. “I’m still trying to understand what it is I saw. I did not know you could impart memories onto me, and you just lay your trauma at my feet without my consent—”
“Your father stole my mother without consent,” said Hara, breathing rapidly. “Now you get to taste his actions. I’m just giving it back to his son.”
“Would you just—” Gideon stepped closer, and Hara stepped back. He held up his hands and slowly approached. “Please, Hara, you do not need to fear me.”
“You hate magic,” she whispered. “Why do you hate us?”
The anger left Gideon’s face as she spoke, and he hung his head.
“I do not hate you, Hara. I never have. I did not trust you, at first. I’d been told all my life that sorcerers disrupted the natural order. Kings are supposed to be the most powerful people in the realm, but not even a king could stand up to a sorcerer. I let fear rule me when we first met. I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”
Hara was quiet. The bone-trembling weariness began to descend, dispelling her anger. It was difficult to focus on his words.
