The Runner (Part I of the Runner Series)

Chapter 19

"Abby? Hello? Earth to Abby?"

I blink rapidly, the words on the page swimming back into focus as a voice cuts through my thoughts. Meg is sitting across from me, waving her hand in front of my face; a look of amusement crosses her fine features.

"Yes, sorry. Did you say something?" With some difficulty, I force myself to concentrate on the Princess. We are in the library, sitting together on one of the overstuffed couches, books lying open across our respective laps. We are of the same mind that the pressures and drudgery of Palace life are best left to the shallow-minded and we have fallen into the habit of sneaking off together to share the always-abandoned seventh floor.

"Welcome back. Where did you go? I know you can't be too wrapped up in that book—I've read it before and it is exceptionally dull." Meg arches an eyebrow at me, her tone teasing but her eyes concerned.

"Oh, I just completely lost my focus, I suppose. I must be tired." I shut the book and stretch my arms, giving an exaggerated yawn to reinforce my point. When I open my eyes again, I see her expression hasn't changed.

"All right," she says. Her tone is unconvinced but for now she seems unwilling to push the point. She closes her own book and re-crosses her long legs.

The afternoon sun washes over us, warming my shoulders and making even the cavernous room feel cozy. The overall effect makes me drowsy and threatens to pull me back into my thoughts of the previous day. I look toward the library's expansive windows, watching as one of our airships floats lazily across the sky, destined for the Wastelands.

I wonder if Edmun is aboard. My stomach flips just thinking about how scared he must be, an unwieldy weapon clenched in a hand better suited to a blacksmith's artistry. I turn and regard Meg, reclining comfortably on the couch next to me. Does she realize the impact her father's will has upon my friends' lives?

"I have to say, I am not looking forward to next week's ball at all." She sighs, completely unaware of the anger percolating just below my surface.

I swallow the burning feeling in my chest and force myself to remember my role. "It can't be so bad," I say, with some difficulty. "There will be the usual feasting and shallow conversations, yes, but at least this time we will get to wear our best dresses and dance."

She laughs lightly, one hand absentmindedly playing with the end of her braided hair.

Can her concerns really be so trivial? As much as I have come to enjoy Meg's company, her quick wit and conversation being a welcome respite, at times it is hard to keep at bay my frustration toward her. In these moments, I take a deep breath, reminding myself that her ignorance is not her own fault. What else can I expect from someone who has lived their entire life behind Palace walls?

There is a mystery to this girl, an untold side to her that I do not yet understand. Here is a person who devours books, yet seems reluctant to bring up her own thoughts about City policies. Someone who laments being pushed aside by her father, but seems disinclined to consider ruling in his stead.

I turn this idea over in my mind as I watch her undo and re-plait her hair. It would be dangerous for someone within the Palace to voice an opinion that contradicts the King's, and what reason have I given Meg to trust me? For as much as she seems to prefer my company over her other cronies, we haven't really shared true confidences. I decide to prod, just a little, to see what I can find.

"I've been thinking, lately," I begin.

"Don't hurt yourself," Meg cuts in, nudging my leg with her toe.

I swat her away. "Thanks for your concern, Princess. No, I've been thinking of Pride and Prejudice."

"Oh, Mr. Darcy." She fans herself exaggeratedly. "Your literary crush."