“Because residential protections that should last decades are simply…gone. Not weakened, not drained over time like they should be.Gone. Runes don’t disappear. It’s not possible.”
The soft clink of glass on wood. “Hm.”
“You don’t look surprised. Gods, youknowsomething.”
Vaeris inhaled a deep breath. “I can’t share details, but yes. It’s under investigation.”
Shit. They were on to us.
“Then tell me what you can,” Henrik demanded. “People are frightened. They’re looking to me for answers I don’t have.”
“The king has instructed me to meet with the High Cleric tomorrow,” Vaeris said carefully. “I’m to brief him on the situation.”
A chair scraped against the floor. “That’s not how this works, Your Highness. You know the arrangement as well as anyone. The clerics hold dominion over all runic magic, and the Crown commands the host. This has kept the peace for centuries.”
“I respect that balance as much as you, but the command came from my father. The Crown cannot stand idle while runes collapse across the realm.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Henrik snapped. “The Order hasexclusive authority over runes. The divide exists because neither power can corrupt the other.”
“And what happens when that system fails?” Vaeris asked quietly, but there was steel beneath it.
“Then the clerics investigate it themselves, as they always have.”
“The High Cleric has been doing that for months,” Vaeris murmured. “He’s found nothing. The king believes, and I agree, that we cannot afford patience while lives are in danger.”
A heavy silence followed.
“You’re talking about undermining the foundation of our society,” Henrik whispered.
“I’m trying to save it.” Vaeris’s voice softened into that tone that made disaster sound inevitable. “Do you think Ichosethis? That I enjoy being wedged between my father’s will and the clerics? My hands are tied.”
I backed from the door.
They’re investigating us.
The words hammered in my skull as I stumbled toward the stairs.
Vaeris was lying to Henrik. He knew exactly who was behind the broken runes—he’d seen me break them. That meant he hadn’t told them about me.
Why not? To protect me?
I forced myself upstairs and pushed open the door to the attic, my hand smarting. If the High Cleric was already asking questions, it wouldn’t be long before they discovered me.
They’d come for Rheya, too.
We had to leave as soon as possible.
4
MARKED
The market crawled with Runecloaks.
They stood at every corner like vultures waiting for something to die. Twice as many as usual.
My eyes felt like they’d been rubbed with sand. I’d gotten maybe an hour of sleep for the second night in a row—kept jerking awake to phantom footsteps. Each time I’d checked that Rheya was still in her hammock.
The scent of blood hung thick—no amount of frost could scrub it clean after an execution. The sacrifice rune in the Square still glistened, its grooves spiraling toward that greedy drain in the center. Tomorrow, during the Rite, the cobblestones would be painted red. My empty stomach clenched.
