Page 14 of Rook of Ruin
She reaches out, and I hold her hand for a moment, continuing to smooth her hair back as if she were a child in need of comfort. “Thank you, Orlaith. I hope . . . I hope you will forgive me one day for everything I’ve done.”
“You have done nothing for me to forgive,” I reply, wiping away the sign of sorrow slowly dripping down my face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’m not able to heal you.”
She squeezes my hand, and I hold it while I push the cart, running for help.
I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, and I’m still confused as to why there are no Rooks, no Grey Sisters around.
“Rook!” His deep, silky voice rings out in the Locker as I run into block three, completely frantic. “What the fu—” Ossian’s tall muscular body halts before us. He slowly takes us in.
“I can’t help her. I can’t heal her. Please, I just need you to help her.” Thick tears threaten to run down my face, and I try to keep my emotions in check. My brace glows as I try to heal Matron again.
“Orlaith.” It’s almost a sin to use a Rook’s first name on the third level. For Ossian, of all people, to use it means things are dire. He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?!” I yell at him, furious at his refusal to help.
For a brief moment, Ossian drops his emotionless mask, and the look he gives me is all I need. Air leaves my lungs. I realize I’ve been gripping a limp hand. I’ve been trying to heal her dead body. I quickly step back, letting her arm drop. I finally see Matron’s mouth hanging open, green-black blood pouring out of her eyes and nose. How did I miss this? How did I not see?
Bringing my hand to my mouth, I suppress a cry. I’ve seen death before, but not like this, not someone I know.Knew.Ossian steps forward, grabbing a hold of the back of my neck, forcing me to look up at him. Damn, his touch is magnetic. For a moment, I lose myself and lean into his hand. Surprise lights up his face.
We stay that way, locked in another eternal battle, only this time it is to see who will pull away first. Instead of moving, he says roughly, “Rook, your neck is bleeding.”
I search his face, looking for answers. His smoke-colored eyes have flecks of silver in them, and his long eyelashes would make even the most pious woman jealous. A few dark hairs from the tight bun have fallen around his face, making his hard features softer. The scar running diagonally across his full lips catches my eyes, and I briefly wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. He smells wonderful, freshly bathed with hints of orange and clove. I don’t know what comes over me, but I place my hand on his chest, perhaps to steady myself through my shock. He steps closer and crushes me into himself. He holds me gently, allowing me to silently sob into his powerful chest.
When my tears feel like they’ve stopped falling, I push against him, craning my neck to see his face. Ossian ever so softly brings his calloused fingers up to my face and wipes the last tear off my cheek. He bends his head down and pauses, thinking better of it, then steps back. I don’t know whether to be disappointed, sad, or relieved.Relieved.
“Tell me, please.” His concern has butterflies stirring in my stomach, but then it’s overshadowed by sadness.
My mouth begins to move, and my voice follows. I explain everything from the moment my mind snapped together. I wipe my eyes again, then my shaking hands unclasp my leather, unbutton my shirt, and pull the letter from my binding. Ossian stares at the bare flesh, and my cheeks blush. He takes the letter from my hands but watches me as I button my shirt and struggle to reclasp my leathers.
He heaves a sigh, not one of annoyance, but one that says,“Let me help you.”I give him a small smile while he pulls up my leather and clasps it together. His hand lingers on my side, then he must remember himself because he puts even more distance between us.
Trying to fill the void he left, I awkwardly say, “Matron gave it to me,” and I motion towards the envelope. There is a hollowness in my chest as my eyes gaze at her dead body, and I swallow.
He rips open the envelope and reads the letter. His face pales, and he sharply inhales. “Did she tell you what was in this?”
“No.” Whatever is in Matron’s letter is enough to make the Spider’s mask crack and reveal fear.Thatis cause for concern.
He nods, takes my hand, and pulls me with him, practically running down the hallway. My legs finally catch up to his, and strangely enough, his grip doesn’t loosen. It’s odd finding comfort in his hand. It’s odd finding comfort in the man who hates me, who I hate back. Maybe this is a game. This is a way for him to gain the upper hand. Turning the corner, we stumble upon a group of Rooks guarding the doors to the interrogation cells.
“Move.” The one-word command from Ossian has the Rooks scurrying away. Ossian’s body barrels through the first door.
Inside the room, a superior officer, Lawden, is overseeing an interrogation of two well-dressed women. His bald head gleams against the bright sconces, and his features are mashed together, making him look like a turtle. Lawden’s leathers are ill-fitting, and his brace is very flashy, full of rubies and diamonds woven into flames. I’ve seen other braces that can produce fire, but none so exquisite as this.
An unknown anger rises inside me, so fierce that it almost knocks me down. Followed by harsh, nearly blinding pain. My brace begins to glow softly. I double over, and Ossian grabs me in surprise. My mouth clamps down on the words I wish to speak. Something about this pain feels familiar, and it scares me. Sharp, stabbing pain hits my back over and over again. Wooziness washes over me, and I dread that I might pass out. Ossian holds me up, power pulsing around him. The threat of death is only a whisper away. I just hope it’s not my own.
“What the hells is going on here?” Lawden yells. The other Rook in the room stands up, watching the events unfolding before him.
Ossian gives Lawden a feral grin. “I fuckingknow.”
Lawden narrows his eyes. “What do you know, Spider?”
“Everything.” Ossian holds me up with one arm and uses the other to show Lawden the letter from the Matron, and a cruel smile forms. “You are using the Locker to—”
“Then you know the darkness isn’t coming; it’s been here all along, festering in the court. I was like you once—now, I have a chance to have power. Real power. You both could have power too,withoutour braces.”
“You are corrupt! You are trading a demon for the devil, and you offer all our souls,” Ossian spits back, helping me to stand.
Lawden laughs. “Our souls were taken the moment we swore our loyalty to the queen.”
