The Runner (Part I of the Runner Series)

Chapter 37

My steps are heavy as I trudge up the stairs to my flat for the second time in one night. When I push open the door, I find Lara curled up on the bed, her back to me. I sink down onto the cushions beside her, slumping forward with my head in my hands.

I feel the bed shift as she sits up, her thin arms snaking around me and drawing me back against her. I turn into the crook of her neck and finally let the weight of everything cascade off me. At last, I allow myself to feel every bump, cut and bruise, inside and out.

I am not sure how long we sit like that, our arms wrapped around each other, before I pull back, rubbing my eyes with my hand.

"What happened?" she asks softly, smoothing the strands of hair away from my face.

"He lied," I say, my voice scratchy. I shake my head, fighting to sort through my hazy thoughts. "No, I suppose he never actually lied. He just...withheld some truth."

"Who?"

"He was there, the night of the fire. The night they killed my parents."

Lara gasps, drawing back from me. "That courtier you've been plotting with?"

I blink slowly, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. "It turns out you were right. We can't trust them."

"Oh my gods." Her face crumples. "Kay, I'm so sorry."

I fall back onto the bed, hugging my knees to my chest. "I miss them so much."

"I know you do, sweet. I miss them too."

"I let everyone down. Meg especially." I think of the hurt expression on my friend's face when I told her who I really was. Her heartbreak is an echo of the leaden feeling pulling at my own chest.

Lara doesn't say anything. The bed shifts beneath me as she moves about, pulling off my boots and arranging the blanket over my shoulders.

My eyes drift shut as warm lips brush my forehead, Lara's tenderness reminding me of my mother. Another wave of hurt washes over me and I burrow my head deeper into the scratchy bedclothes, so unlike Will's cool sheets.

"Sleep now." The voice is a million miles away.

And finally, I do.

My sleep is deep and dreamless. I crawl slowly through a thick, suffocating mist, dragging my weary body toward consciousness. Before I even manage to pry open an eye, I am aware of every cut and bruise dotting my body, all enthusiastic to welcome me back into the world of the living.

Someone places their hand on my back and shakes me roughly. I groan, swatting them away. There is the sound of metal scraping against a scabbard and my eyes fly open, searching wildly.

Lieutenant Griss stands over my bed, his sword drawn and held inches away from my throat.

"Good morning," he says, drawing his lips back into a sneer and revealing two rows of perfectly shiny, white teeth.

I bolt upright, my back slamming against the wall behind me. No fewer than six guards have crowded into my attic, their broad shoulders filling the small space. My eyes dart automatically to the open window. One oversized guard has already firmly planted himself there, his arms crossed, smirking as though he can tell exactly what I'm thinking. Another guard stands barring the door, and still a third is with Lara in the corner. She stares at me with wide, terrified eyes, her thin form hunched and shaking.

There's no way out. I feel a lump of panic rise in my throat as I slowly bring my gaze back to Griss and his sword.

"I think you may well and truly be out of luck this time, Runner."