Page 38 of The Rook

“…Tempest. Tempest?Tempest!”

She shook herself and turned from her breakfast, her gaze blurry. Stars, she ached, and her head was killing her. To say she’d slept poorly the night before would be an understatement. Tempest blinked repeatedly and was greeted by Briggs’s worried face. “I’m fine,” she mumbled.

He crossed his arms and lifted one brow. “You look like death.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, pushing her eggs around on her plate. Even drugged up, she could feel the stares of those around her.

“No training today, okay?” Briggs murmured, gently laying a huge hand on her back. “I want to examine your wounds.”

Tempest nodded. She didn’t care what he did as long as he let her go back to bed.

“You need to rest until those wounds heal. Do you understand me?”

She nodded again, feeling queasy.

“Don’t just nod like a bird; use your words, lass. Don’t forget that I know you. You push yourself too hard.”

For once, she agreed with him. Tempest pushed her plate away, her silverware clattering against the clay plate. “I swear I shall not train today.” She smiled warmly and bumped Briggs’s shoulder with her own. “I need a walk, and then it’s back to bed for me.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow, then pointed at Tempest’s bandaged ankle. “How far are you going on that leg, do you think?”

Pesky bear.

“As far as I can manage,” she insisted. “And besides, the mimkia is doing its job. Another day, and my ankle will be good as new.” Or so she hoped. Being cooped up in her room sounded a miserable option. Her gaze swept the room, noting the glances and blatant stares being thrown her way. When would it stop? Were they staring like normal, or was it because they knew what had happened the night before? She dropped her chin and stared at the table, tracing her finger along the woodgrain. Did they know she ran from a fight?

“I need to get out of here,” she said, pushing to her feet. Even standing and with Briggs sitting, they were eye to eye. He gave her a worried look, which she ignored. She’d be fine. “Feel free to visit me when you have time.” Tempest kissed his dusky cheek and then hobbled toward the door. It wasn’t until she’d made it down the hallway, that she realized what she’d done. Briggs wasn’t family and yet she’d treated him like one of her uncles. It just came naturally.

This place is messing with your head. You’re letting your guard down.

Tempest growled and soldiered on, determined to take a walk through the draughty hallways. Hallways that were still dark. The mountain palace seemed to be a place of eternal night. With no windows nearby to let in light, it was always dark. At first, it had disoriented her, but she’d grown used to it.

She paused her mindless wandering and huffed out a weak laugh when she realized she had accidentally made her way to the training hall. Even broken and battered, she couldn’t keep away. Tempest leaned against the wall and eyed the door. While she couldn’t spar, there was no harm in watching people train. If she was lucky, she’d work out a few new tricks by observing the others.

Tempest pulled the door open and stepped inside. Her skin prickled, and she froze when she took in the scene. In the middle of the sparring ring were the two males who had attacked her the evening before. They were strapped to the floor, bleeding. Her stomach rolled at the stench of coppery blood. Despite herself, she trembled as she caught sight of the man in charge of the beating.

Mal.

His back was to her, and he held a wicked-looking whip, while a large group of shifters stood silently by, watching. The giant yelled when Mal brought the whip down over his face and then his back which was a meaty mess. Mal turned slightly, exposing his profile. He smiled,smiled.It was as if helikeddoling out the pain.

Bile burned the back of her throat, and Tempest held a hand over her mouth. Stars, she might be sick. While she did wantjustice for being attacked, she didn’t want it like this. This, she wanted no part of.

Mal raised his whip to strike the reptilian shifter, and she lurched away from the door before she could fully process her actions, putting far more strain on her ankle than was wise. She limped in front of the shifter, raising an arm just as the whip came down. White-hot agony burst across her forearm and wrapped around her wrist. Heat pressed at the back of her eyes, but she managed to stay silent against the pain.

A dangerous, oppressive silence swelled in the room, only broken by the panting giant and her pulse beating in her ears. Tempest dragged her gaze around the room as fat drops of scarlet liquid dripped from her arm to the floor. She made note of everyone who had happily allowed such a display of torture to occur. She lingered on Nyx, and her lips curled at the woman who didn’t look ashamed in the least.

Barbarians. Animals.

Blood slipped down her arm, and, yet, no one said a word. No one moved.

She turned her attention back to the ring master. Tempest unleased all her disgust, hatred, and judgement she could muster in her expression. Five heartbeats passed, and she couldn’t look at his impassive face one second longer. She used her left hand to slowly and carefully remove the whip from her flesh. The end fell to the floor in a wet splatter. Tempest turned her back to Mal and knelt on the floor, her fingers working at the first knot that held down the snake man. He moaned as she tugged harder on the knot.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Stop,” Mal commanded from behind her, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

Not on his life. The men had been punished enough. She ignored him and finished untying the last of the knots around the snake man’s wrists.

“I’m going to help you up,” she murmured as she helped him into a sitting position. He glanced at her from his swollen eyes before his gaze dropped to his hands, shame clear in his expression.

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