Page 1 of Rook of Ruin
The rune-marked queen knew the children held great power. She believed one day they could save the kingdoms from war and decay.
A small wisp of a child with veiny golden wings cowered among the queen’s savage guard, the Ravens. She looked to her wingless sister, knowing there was still hope for her—but not for herself.
The queen’s painted lips curved as her voice spat, “Cut them off.”
The elder daughter stepped back, folding in her wings to protect herself. Their mother had taken their powers, hidden their true forms, but had been unable to hide the elder’s soft, leathery, gilded wings. No, they’d grown on their own without their mother’s knowledge.
The queen smiled as the elder sister lowered her eyes in defeat. The queen liked her, she said she did. There was something about the girl—a softness, no defiance. She was pliable. She would be loyal to her captors.Yes, I will be loyal.
A whimpered hiss came from the younger sister, too frail to be of any real concern, but there was fury in those eyes. Fury and fear. Delicious fear that made her tiny body shake as she tried to fight Ravens several times her size.
Be loyal. Be good. It will stop.But the elder sister’s silent chants went unnoticed.
Dark grey dresses appeared behind the queen, making the frail sister still. Death was coming for them.
Be loyal. Be good. It will stop.
Faceless Ravens moved with precision, placing brutal irons on the girls’ tiny, pale wrists. They grabbed the elder’s small wings and spread them wide. Her body didn’t fight, not like the little one’sdid. No, she chose to watch the Crow scribble lies on harsh paper as the Raven’s burning blade struck. Tiny screams could be heard throughout the castle before silence and stones gave way to something more.
Something pliable to save the kingdoms.
Something reckless to cause their ruin.
Idon’t want to be here.
I drown out the pleas for help, the shouts of despair, and the demands to stop. Instead, I concentrate on a small chip in the thick grey walls of the dungeon cell. Briefly, I wonder how it got there, then I think of the mundane paperwork I’ll need to complete after this. My teeth scrape across my bottom lip as my mind becomes preoccupied with my plans tonight. Waiting patiently in my room is a romance novel, a new bottle of wine, and a treat of cinnamon sweet bread.
“Hear him fucking sing.” My fellow Rook lets out a satisfied sigh, bringing me out of my fantasy. She turns to the young Recruit next to us. “See that? Perfection.”
I nod in agreement, pretending to care as blood gushes from the wound I’ve inflicted. I finally choose to speak. “How do you kill a monster? Not as an angel, not as a demon, but as a weapon. We are that finely-honed weapon of Her Majesty’s military might, never to question, only to act. This man screams for mercy, but he will not have it. Do not pity a man who preyson the innocent. Not one soul can hear his torment outside this room . . . unfortunately.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice the Recruit shift her feet nervously. I doubt she will make it through the year. Most ladies fantasize about finding a husband—they choose the path of becoming a Crow, the queen’s scholars and archivists. I dream of adventure, passion, love, family, and freedom. Finding a husband is easy—I could have one right now if I wanted. Finding the other half to my soul, that’s the complicated bit, which is just one reason I became a Rook. It’s a path few ladies ever take because Rooks are the spies and secret keepers of the queen. We know all, see all, yet I know very little outside these castle walls.
I don’t want to be in the queen’s dungeon, but I’m stuck here, in the Locker, staring at an actual asshole and slicing off a man’s testicles. This monster of a man bound to the wall raped and murdered at least seven women. I don’t feel bad for him. He deserves worse. I just want . . .freedom. Which, given where I am, is a fucking joke.
Two soft thuds ring out in the room—his balls splattering onto the stone floor. Our prisoner screams and thrashes against the bindings. He finally confesses where he hid his victims’ bodies, and the Rook with me hums in delight.
Leaning forward, I whisper, “You deserve worse.”
His eyes become wide like dinner plates, and he sobs out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
My mouth forms a cruel smile, knowing he won’t ever hurt another woman and will face an executioner. “You’re not sorry you did it—you’re sorry you got caught.” I wipe my dagger off on a black cloth and toss the fabric down onto the disgusting, bloody floor.
“Hells. Are you going to leave him like that?” The Rook observing me folds her arms and raises an eyebrow. Her violet eyes show amusement; she knows I could heal him.
I shrug, sheathing my dagger. “I’ll let him feel a fraction of the pain he’s caused.” We glance at the mess on the floor below the sobbing offender and determine the Recruit can clean it up. Knocking on the metal door, it opens for us easily, revealing another Rook waiting with a stack of papers to sign.
“Any plans tonight?” she asks while flipping through the forms.
Before I can answer, dark grey skirts fill my sight, and a soft voice speaks. “May I have a moment, Rook?”
We both look up, but Matron’s eyes are clearly on me.
I give her a genuine smile. “Of course.”
“I guess I’ll do the paperwork?” the Rook next to me asks, eyebrows raised.
“Thanks.” I wink.
