Leaving in the night seemed most practical. That morning, I had inspected the small round window in the bedroom. It would have been just large enough for me to squeeze through had it not been sealed around its entire circumference.
It seemed that Harkin, or whoever had lived here before, had already thought ahead on that front. I couldn’t use it to escape unless I broke the glass, and I was sure Harkin would wake and apprehend me before I could run far enough to evade him.
While Harkin had bathed—his attentive gaze hidden behind the privacy of the long white curtain—I had hastily tried every window in the living room and kitchen. None of them were willing to open for me.
The front door was my only option.
“This does not become you.” Harkin was scowling now, and I found it quite pleasing to rile him so.
I only smiled, a sharp grin that did not reach my eyes.
Tonight, I thought.Tonight I will leave this place and start anew.
Hours passed. I ignored and deflected until Harkin finally walked away, frustration clear on his usually placid face. I laid back with my cloak pulled tight to my chin. The sky was a milky blue above me, hardly a cloud in sight.
I watched it unblinking, daydreams lacing through the endless blue. A glimpse of chestnut, the flash of gold. Blood in the snow.
The dreams had not ceased. Where they had once been so few and far between—so muddled and distant—they now bode of urgency. They lingered deep in my belly, begging me to remember.But why?
What do they want from me?I wondered desperately.
Water and fire clashed in my vision, then settled into a peaceful thing.
There was some message in the feeling of calm that washed over me. A desire to hold them close—the dreams themselves or the characters who visited me night after night?
But that was silly. The dreams were only a figment of my imagination.
I looked back to the pure blue sky, real and unyielding above me. It was a pleasant view—punctuated by a weighted feeling—until Harkin’s face marred the image. His light brown skin appeared darker, silhouetted by the sun as he was. Curling hair fell into his eyes as a light breeze tugged at the strands. His expression was carefully smoothened, but the tightness pulling at his jaw betrayed his annoyance.
I was getting on his nerves.Good.
“Seren, I need you to cooperate. I understand that this is difficult for you, but this only works if we both commit.” Harkin spoke slowly, placatingly.
“You assume I care to help you,” I began, finally standing and catching his eyes with my own. “I do not. It is a mercy for me to consider you inconsequential. Continue to push me, and see yourself transformed into my enemy. I assure you, you’ll wish you had never met me.”
His eyes narrowed before he could school his expression. A deep breath rattled his chest as he looked away, then back to me. “I do not wish to be your enemy. As I have said—time and again—I wish to help you.Let me help you.”
“What you will have me do does not help me!” I exclaimed, voice rising and fists clenching. I took a half step toward him. “You would have me not only bend but shatter my morals entirely. You would see me further alienate myself from my home and family in the nameof claiming a power and a people I do not want. You areeverythingthat I despise, and if you think that you will be the one to change me, then you are sorely mistaken.”
“I could give you a life!” He shouted in return. “A fresh start. A chance to be something more.”
“I am not lesser because I was raised as a human,” I spat, drawing closer to him with every word. My finger pressed into the firm expanse of his chest, nails biting. “You Rázuri look down upon us as if you are so much better… Why? Because you wield mágik? Because you still hold favor with the Goddesses? But we are people, too. We are trying to survive, too, so don’t bother offering me a life in Acsilla. Ihada life, and I will forge a new one without you.”
“You hold no claim to them!” Harkin shouted in frustration. “Theyare trying to survive. Yes, you’re right. Butyouare not human. You are Rázuri, and the sooner you accept that, the better it will be for the both of us.”
I stormed away, pushed through the cottage's front door, and locked myself away in the bedroom. Blood rushed in my ears, pounding against the rapid beat of my angry heart.
Harkin did not call on me for the rest of the evening.
That night, I laced my boots and donned the pack I had carefully pilfered together. I strapped my sword to my side and sheathed my daggers. I hesitated at the bedroom door, listening for the soft and steady sound of Harkin’s breath in deep sleep.
When he had not stirred in an hour, I slipped through the door. I nearly stepped on a plate at my feet. Harkin must have left me supper. I didn’t bother to hide the rolling of my eyes in the darkness.
He lay on his back on the worn couch, an arm and a leg dangling to the floor as his long body attempted to fit the too small space.
Harkin’s face was peaceful, so different from the mask of feigned indifference he wore for me. Only the scars across his nose and the corner of his mouth betrayed any of the fight that I suspected was in him.
I tore myself from my thoughts and continued for the door, feet moving silently through the dimly lit room. I reached the door, bracing two hands on the iron handle and turning it as quietly as I could manage. The door slid open smoothly, then at the halfway mark, the hinges squealed. I squeezed my eyes shut then shot them back open. I cursed myself for forgetting the first time I had entered the cottage, the squeak of disuse the frame had emitted as the door pushed inwards.
