Page 12 of Rook of Ruin
“See, I . . .” His face gets red.
“You . . . ?”
“Listen, I was talking to your Rook friend.” He glances around, noting only Matron, who seems to freeze, unsure what to do, and he loudly whispers, “Starts with a Z. And he said you were looking for someone to go with to the party for the lord that starts with an E, and I, uh . . . well, I was invited to the castle too, and I thought maybe we could go together.”
Fuck you, Zane.“Oh.”
“I mean, we could go as friends, or maybe something more?” He shrugs.
Kill me now. Committing treason and then being mortified by a guy calling me desperate is not how I thought my life would end. “You know what? Let me think on it. I have a lot to do. How about I let you know after shift?”Please, please just leave.
“Yep, absolutely. That’s—that’s great. I’ll seeyoulater then.” He winks at me, and I give him a fake bright smile back.
I start to move, and he stops me, muttering, “You know, if you just want to skip the ball and go to a bedchamber, I’m fine with that too.” He puts a hand on my padded shoulder and brushes it down my arm. I stare at him in shock. Who does this jerk think he is? He barely stuttered out asking me on a date, but he can easily tell me he wants to bed me?Does Zane think I’m this desperate? “I know you may have other men interested in you, but I assure you, as a lord, I’m all too understanding of discretion.”Men?What men? Before I can ask, he leans in, his hot breath a mix of tobacco and egg, trying to . . .kiss me.I tipmy head back and grip his tunic. Satisfaction comes across his face before I knee him in the balls. He drops like a rock.
“I decline your offers. Unprofessional.Let’s go, Matron.” I march forward and hear Matron laughing over the loud moaning of the Rook lying on the stone floor in agony. Not the first man I’ve brought to his knees, and certainly not the last.
“Well, that broke the tension, didn’t it?” Matron laughs. She’s quiet for a few moments then asks, “Do you really need a date for a party?”
“Oh, fuck off, Matron,” I growl out.
I highly doubt anyone has ever told Matron to fuck off before, but I think, given the circumstances, she can forgive me. Instead of a calm disapproval or a snappy response, she just howls with laughter. Hells if I don’t laugh too.
“I do like to bake. Maybe I’ll learn that recipe and marry a bored duke . . . then I won’t have to worry about men like him ever again,” I grumble with a smile, and she laughs a little more.
We needed that. It was almost as if we weren’t in a life-or-death situation. It was almost as if we had all the time in the world.
Matron slowly tapers off her chuckle as we finally get to the last block. Our nerves become frayed. We try to speak as normally as possible, but it ends up going back into uneasy silence. On this floor, there are no Rooks, only a few cells and then the large mortuary where the Grey Sisters take care of the bodies of the dead. They mark the dead with runes and wrap their bodies, or what’s left of their bodies, so they’re ready for burial. Matron opens the doors, and we barge into a room that smells of disinfectant and death. Relief hits me when it’s empty. She locks the door while I double-check that the area is secure. Running to the back of the very large open room, I push in a piece of the wall. It easily gives way to a passage that’s used onlyby the Grey Sisters. It’s completely clear. My heart is thudding so loudly, I’m sure the Spider will hear.
The cart squeaks as the dead rises and pulls off his sheet. Matron coaxes the little boy out and grabs clothes from a wooden box while I finish healing the prisoner. My brace softly lights up, allowing me to heal the last of the man’s wounds. The bruises give way, lips become lush, a crooked nose becomes straight, and finally, swollen eyes become clear. I surprise myself by healing his mangled ear to match his slightly pointed one. Tired gold eyes gaze back at my hazel ones, and his expression becomes a mixture of sheer surprise and anger. He flinches like I just smacked him across the face. His full lips form a tight, very sad smile. A small ache in my chest blooms; it makes me want to reach up and hold him. Under the exhaustion and fatigue, he’s quite a strikingly handsome man. We stare, our eyes unyielding and our bodies unmoving. There’s a fleeting word that crosses my mind,anam. The ache in my chest becomes a tug, demanding I reach out—butwe continue to stare, suspended in time until we hear a soft hum from Matron. It’s a shock to my body when I realize how I’ve been behaving.
She softly hums while she helps the boy dress and the man swings his feet down. The sheet covering the gold-eyed man becomes tangled, and I glance down and see he is very, very well endowed. My cheeks warm. Totally inappropriate for me to do, and I turn around, busying myself with the rest of the supplies Matron snuck into the Locker. The leather bag is full of enough food and coin to gain passage across the sea, or at least into Bethal, the small neighboring kingdom.
A polite cough from Matron lets me know they are ready, and I turn around. The boy is dressed in a light blue shirt and blue slacks with a grey wool coat. His boots are a little big, but I’m sure he will manage. The man is dressed in a blue shirt and pants and a long brown leather coat with matching boots. There’s aleather sheath that runs across his chest. The two prisoners seem distinctly Acrosi now. The dagger I gave him is held in his shaking hand.
I look at the dagger, then at him. He sheaths it.Trust.
“Thank you,” the young boy says shyly as I hand him a small pouch that contains a pocket knife, chocolates, and a small picture book I stole from the castle library about Jovan and his dragon. We naturally huddle together, handing off the supplies.
“Take care of yourself . . . and him.” I smile at the boy and point to the man. Briefly, hope crosses the boy’s face. If there were any way I could heal their mental and emotional anguish from this place, I would. Just because trauma isn’t physically shown doesn’t mean it’s nonexistent.
“What the fuck is going on here?” a shrill voice screeches. My face pales, and I turn to see a brown-haired woman step out of the passageway in blue Rook training clothes with a gold and ruby brace. I don’t recognize her as one who works in the Locker. Pulling the boy behind me and using my body to shield him from the obvious threat, I instinctively step towards the man. I watch the brunette Rook’s mind turn, realizing I’m committing treason. Her lips curl, giving a sinister appearance. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the sharp blade in my absconder’s hand.Kill me quickly. I brace for the sting, but rather than a slice across my throat, the weapon is securely embedded in the flesh of the Rook, who throws a flash of steel as her body falls. Instead of hitting me like the dagger should, Matron crumbles to the ground.
Matron stepped in front of me and took it into her stomach, the weapon designed for me. The man bends down quickly, pulling the dagger from Matron, and smells it. Where once a beautiful healthy glow had been, her skin is now sickly. Green-black veins begin to weave throughout her body from the Rook’s deadly weapon.
He shakes his head and whispers, “Poison.”
A stifled cry of shock escapes me, and I drop down, pulling Matron up onto my lap. My brace glows to heal her as the man rushes over to the Rook on the ground. He checks the Rook’s pulse, pulling out his dagger and taking off her brace. Power flows through my body as I picture the poison lifting from Matron’s body, the healthy glow returning. It doesn’t. I try again. Matron looks into my eyes, tears falling down her pale skin.
“It’s not working. I can’t heal her.” Worry seeps through my voice, but I try to sound and look impassive like Ossian. I don’t want to panic the child. The glow of my brace brightens as I keep pulling on my power to heal Matron. But she still isn’t healing.
The gold-eyed man rushes to us, carefully lifting Matron’s small body and gently placing her into the casket-like cart. She lets out a whimper of pain from the movement. The little boy grabs a hold of my hand, pulling me back to himself, afraid. I notice the man carefully wiping Matron’s tears while she whispers to him. Holding the small boy’s gaze, I shove my raw emotions down until they’re hidden and replaced with a comforting smile.
“Matron is going to be okay. I’m going to heal her. She will be fine,” I tell the boy, maybe more for my sake than his, reminding myself Matron was the one who declared me a powerful healer. Gently, I squeeze his hand once and let it go.
The light of my brace still glows softly, but the poison won’t leave her body. Swallowing a sob, I approach them. The man drops Matron’s hand and reluctantly leaves her side, giving me room. Matron reaches out for my hands, and I give them easily. She softly smiles at me and then slides her hands up to my wrists, using all of her strength to grip them, pulling me closer.
“Matron, let go of me. You’ll use up your strength,” I say gingerly, still trying to heal her, my light growing brighter. Her grip is so strong, I’m worried it will hurt her further. “Let go. It’sgoing to be okay.” I try to be reassuring, but hells, those green-black veins are horrible. She must be panicking. I try to soothe her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. We are going to figure this out. You need to save your strength. You can let me go now.” My brace is burning bright, but still, nothing happens.
