Page 11 of Rook of Ruin
My hands shake. I wipe the blood off onto my leathers, pull out a wrapped mint from a small pocket, and squeeze the wrapper, popping it into my mouth. The taste is soothing as I suck on it to remove the awful acidic taste in my mouth. Matron’s right; we need to hurry.Shake it off. Whatever just happened, table it. For now.
“I’m good.”
“The boy first.” She leads me over to the child, and he stares up at us with fearful blue-grey eyes. I focus on healing him, and a soft glow from my brace begins again. This time, it doesn’t burn bright. In my mind, I picture his body healed, and as I’m concentrating, it does.
“Bloody hells,” the boy whispers in surprise.
I offer him a small smile.Bloody hells indeed. I check the child over while Matron takes the iron cuffs off the man. He drops to the floor. Matron does not move to help him. If she did, the touch alone could hurt him further. My brace glows again as Ipull on its power, healing the man before me. First, I heal his feet, his legs, but just as I start moving higher—
“No,” his hoarse voice whispers. His body shakes as he stumbles up off the ground, his swollen eyes trying to see. “Leave my back alone.”
He wants me to leave his back? “No.” I sigh and explain further, “You have an infection, and when you have to run, when you have to protect him—” I point to the boy, then remember the man can’t really see. I heal some of the puffiness from his face so he can, but he averts his eyes from me and turns his head. I notice his other ear is slightly elongated—pointed.Odd.What is left of his gaunt face is full of disdain, and I understand why. Softly, I speak. “It will slow you down. It could get him killed.”
I respect the way this man tried to fight for the boy when he thought we were here to torture them. I have no doubt this child means something to him. He nods in acknowledgement and turns around in a huff, like I’m inconveniencing him by healing his body. My brace continues to glow as I heal the infection from his shoulders down and every lash but one. I leave one jagged scar on his upper right shoulder blade. Perhaps I’m a pushover, but if he wants to be a masochist, I’ll let him.
“I have to leave your face for now. If you’re checked, Rooks will expect some type of physical torture.” He nods again. “Any other injuries?” Other than the mental and emotional injuries, I dare not add. They shake their heads.
Matron clears her throat. “We have clean clothes and supplies, but first, we must make it through the Locker. As soon as you get into the cart, you’ll have to remain still and quiet, like the dead, until we tell you. Otherwise, this was all for nothing.”
After a quick scan of the hallway, satisfied we are alone, Matron and I bring in the cart. Matron begins to wrap the man in a red sheet, but as soon as he feels her touch, he flinches and pulls back. She whispers calmly, and he nods, allowing herto wrap the sheet around his naked body. I hold the cart steady as Matron helps him into it. The wooden cart is similar to a tall coffin with wheels. In place of a lid to cover a body, Grey Sisters drape a red sheet. He lies back cautiously, as if expecting his back to be in searing pain, and gives a look of relief when it isn’t. Before Matron pulls the red sheet over his body, signifying his death, she fusses over the boy, helping him into a hidden compartment.
Carefully, I take out my dagger and whisper to the man, “If we are caught, kill me quickly, take Matron hostage, and run with the boy. Do you understand?” He nods, still avoiding my eyes. Good to know he agrees I’m not hostage material.
If we are caught and I’m taken alive, there’s a very real possibility Ossian will weave his web in my mind to take my secrets. I can’t allow anyone to discover Matron was involved. If I die, it might save their lives. Sliding the dagger into his hand, I watch his fingers grip the hilt and cautiously hide the dagger under his forearm to conceal it. He knows how to use a weapon. Matron places the red sheet over his body, and I hope I didn’t fuck us over by giving him the dagger.
My fingers grip the door handle, and I say a silent prayer Paul hasn’t sent someone to find me. We spent too much time. We head out the door and down the silent corridor, very aware the Spider could be lurking. Passing the staircase I descended earlier and continuing down the hall, we take the slowly sloping path downward. With Matron behind me, we keep a hurried pace towards the bottom of the Locker.
The stagnant air becomes cold, and a bitterness coats my tongue. The only sound is a small squeaking coming from the wooden cart’s wheels. My mind wanders. Why would Ossian do this? To a child? I should ask this prisoner exactly what happened when we make it, if we make it, to the Grey Sisters’ mortuary. There’s a burning need for me to understand, to know exactly why the Spider would do this. It seems so unlike Ossian. I hate the man, but I have never known him to hurt a child. Ever. Anytime a juvenile came into the Locker, he would go out of his way to speak to them, as if he were trying to show them a different path forward.
Matron said it was Ossian who she saw in the corridor of the interrogation cell, but he doesn’t have the capability to create the fire that burned the boy, unless he used something else. What could he possibly gain from this? I have seen Ossian tear men apart from the inside out, but I could never imagine him hurting an innocent. There is more to all of this, more to the light and to the intense emotions—ones I felt pouring through from theprisoner. But who can I ask without revealing I’m a traitor? Matron? I’m certainly not going to have this talk with her right now.
At the eleventh block, voices filter through the air. I strike up a casual conversation with Matron because—under normal circumstances—we would be talking about mundane things like food or the weather. “Have you tried the latest craze, chocolate sweet bread?” I ask Matron.Please get the hint, please get the hint.My pulse races, and I slide my body closer to protect the cart.
“No, I haven’t, but they say it is really delicious. I’ve heard there is some kind of controversy with it?” she easily replies. She got it.
“Oh, yes. Rumor has it a duke has declared that he will marry the first lady who bakes one to his satisfaction. Can you imagine?” I snort.
“He must be bored with his life to make such a challenge.” Matron clears her throat. “Do you like the cinnamon one?”
“Or he is just desperate for a new wife. The cinnamon? Matron, are you serious? That’s the best. It’s my absolutefavorite.”
Two men round the corner in blue Rook tunics, complete with matching blue pants. The shorter one with black hair is clearly annoyed at the tall, blond Rook. I don’t know their names. Davin for the tall blond, maybe? He is a lord; that’s the only reason I kind of know his name.
“Hey, Rook,” the shorter one acknowledges me as he walks by.
Before I can reply, the taller one breaks off and starts walking next to me.Shit. He grins. “Hey, Rook, what are you doing?”
I motion to Matron. “Working.”
“Oh yes, I mean, uh, me too,” he stammers out, twirling his blond hair with his finger and then pushing it back.
“Okay . . .” I say slowly. This is super awkward.
“Okay,” he says and continues to walk next to me.
I stop and stare at him. He isn’t bad looking, with sharp eyes and a small nose, but his dark blond hair is slicked back with too much pomade. Also, he’s too young for me; call it daddy issues, but I’m just attracted to slightly older men—notoldmen.
I try not to sound impatient. “Is there something you want?”
