she realized how abandoned Snow must have felt. How alone. Not only had Owen left her, but no one had cared enough to get her to safety.
“They can’t love you back,” Snow said, releasing Owen’s hand. Her eyes were so intense Rune found it difficult not to look away. “No matter how much you want to believe it, they can’t love you back. Love wasn’t built into them.”
“I do,” Owen murmured. “I love.”
Snow snorted.
Rune’s mind was spinning. “Owen…”
“Don’t,” he said, again.
“But what are you?” she asked. “What are you?” It didn’t matter that the question was nearly taboo, that she hated it, that he hated it…
It didn’t matter. She needed to know.
“What the fuck is a hum?”
He wouldn’t answer.
Snow answered for him.
“Hums are semi-human,” she said. “They’re created from—”
“Stop,” Owen said. “Shut the fuck up, Shame.”
But she would not shut up, and there was a sharp, dark satisfaction in her voice. “They are created in shimmer laboratories from stolen, enchanted blood and the souls of smuggled-in Other infants.” Then she stared quietly at Rune, waiting for her reaction.
Rune watched them both for a long, silent moment. “What am I supposed to do with that? What do you want me to do with that?” She spoke to Snow but pointed at Owen. “Do you think I should hate him for what he is? I don’t. I hate those who create us.”
“Don’t put yourself in the same category with the hums.”
“Why not?” Rune asked. “Tell me why the fuck not.”
Snow looked away. “I apologize,” she said, finally.
“You loved him,” Rune said. “And he abandoned you. Ask him why.”
But Snow remained silent, and it wasn’t Rune’s question to ask.
“I’m sorry, Snow,” Owen said. “I’m never going to be the knight.”
“No,” Snow agreed. “You’re only ever going to be the user. That’s all you’re capable of. I hate what it takes to make you.” The bitterness made her face hard and for a second, less beautiful.
“Then blame his creators,” Rune said. “It’s not his fault.”
But Snow clenched her fists and shook them at Owen. “Ask him about the baby. The one who looks like you. Ask him what has become of her.”
Rune couldn’t breathe, or think, or speak.
The little black-haired baby.
Her baby.
Owen had sent the baby to Skyll.
She could forgive him nearly anything.
But she wouldn’t forgive him for that.
Chapter Thirty
Rune closed her eyes to shut out Owen’s anguished face. “Where’s the baby, Owen?”
He answered her, but his voice held no life. “I don’t know. She was given to Blood.”
She couldn’t speak.
“I didn’t take her, Rune.” He tried to move and listed to the side. No one moved to help him.
“Who did?” But she knew what he would say.
“Elizabeth. Her lord wanted it, so she delivered. Maybe she hoped it would soften his anger when he was denied Fie.”
“A dead woman can’t dispute those claims,” she snarled. “Her death is very fucking convenient for you, isn’t it?”
“No,” he denied.
“What did he want with her?” The question was almost impossible to ask, because she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“He wanted a piece of you,” Owen answered. He flashed a self-deprecating smile. “Same thing we all seem to want.”
“I’m certain he wanted to build another hum,” Snow said. “One more powerful than any of the previous ones, because it would be created from parts of you.” She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “It’s too late for the infant now, but we can still save the world.”
“She’s dead?” Rune asked.
“I don’t know,” Snow replied. “But even if she’s not dead, she’s not the baby who left your world.”
Olson, Jim, and Mel waited patiently.
The Rune zombies surrounded the camp. The crows had scattered but could still be heard calling to each other in the distance.
Snow’s companions sat on the ground and talked quietly amongst themselves.
Rune looked around at all of them, her heart heavy, her mind tired. So fucking tired. Was there anyone in any world who was just a decent person? Anyone?
Yes. There was Ellis in one world and Z in the other.
But Owen…
Owen was not a decent person.
The little black-haired baby had been her hope.
It’d been her baby—the only baby she’d ever have.
And Owen had helped kill that dream. That hope. That baby.
Sorrow’s puppy trotted over to her and sat on his haunches. He panted lightly, his light gray gaze never leaving her face. Until that moment, she’d forgotten about him.
“Where were you, pup?” she asked, her mind still on the baby.
“He stays with the army,” Jim said. “Seems to like the