Page 16 of Rook of Ruin
I hope I’m not alwaysthebest for him. I hope he and Zane get their happily ever after like in my books. Slowly, I walk the rest of the way to the barracks, feeling very exhausted and emotional. Two things that could be a death sentence in the Locker. I pass a group of Recruits walking briskly and whispering with nervous glances as they pass me. Of course, covered in blood and my leathers burned through, I seem intimidating and wholly cruel. To them, I’ve either come back from a mission, or I’m a crazed executioner.
Thirty-four large, wooden beds covered with lush, dark, velvety bedding and placed in two rows with a dark blue-and-gold carpet runner going down the center somehow make the Locker seem a bit homey. Next to each bed are small cabinets that contain an assortment of clothing.
I try to be quiet while rifling through clothes. The barracks has one other occupant—a dark-haired man, who is curled up in a corner bunk asleep, looking entirely cozy. I sneak past him and practically float into one of the four individual bathroomsattached to the Locker’s barracks. Pulling off my boots and peeling off what’s left of my leathers, I roll my sore shoulders. The small tub, a toilet, a small vanity, and large cabinet filled with blue towels and toiletries crowd the tiny room.
I grab two towels, a teeth-cleaning kit, soap, and the jasmine oil I stashed months ago on the very bottom shelf behind cleaning supplies. Turning on the faucet and taking off the rest of my clothing, I peer into the mirror, and the woman who stares back is a frightening sight. My hair is matted and caked with blood, my hazel eyes are tired and puffy. Tear streaks cover my bloodstained face. My toned frame is ragged; it went through a battle without the physical scars. I survived, but Matron did not, and neither did a superior officer, two Rooks, and two female prisoners. Bile rises in my throat, and I rush to the toilet to heave whatever is left in my stomach. I sit on the cool floor for a moment, thinking. My teeth bite down hard into my lip until I feel blood coat my mouth. Then I heal myself.
Today was the first time I have ever cried in the Locker.In front of Ossian. My fingers rub my temple. He sees me as a weak nuisance anyway, and now I’m an embarrassment.
Always a cool, calculated, uncaring ass . . . Even when he joins all the Rooks for a drink in the barracks, he seems to be listening, assessing each person. I might be the future queen’s sister, but even I know how to let loose. He’s a great Rook, but a shit person.
But what was going on between us earlier?
I am a mess of a woman.
A hiss escapes my lips as I sink into the warm tub, allowing the heat to cascade over my body. The clear water turns an ugly shade of pink. I scrub and wash, pull the plug, fill the tub, and repeat several times until the water is clear and I’m clean. The jasmine oil smells phenomenal, and I float in the wonderful warmth surrounding me.
My mind begins to drift. I try to remember,remember—why was I in the mortuary? My brace catches the light, and I tilt it slightly, causing the diamonds, pearls, silver, and gold to sparkle in the sconce lights. Never take your brace off in the Locker; it could be your death . . . and I narrowly escaped mine.
But . . . it’s as if moments of my life were taken.
Maybe my mind witnessed such a traumatic event that it isn’t allowing me to remember. Is that why the Rook in the mortuary is dead? Did I kill her? Did she do something to us, or was there an intruder? Why didn’t my brace work for Matron? The image of her body, her green-black blood seeping out—a wave of panic and sadness rises in my chest. Breathing heavily, I push my emotions down. I force myself to get out of the tub and wrap my hair and body in the blue towels.
After checking over my body one more time, turning to see if I missed a bruise or a cut to heal, I sigh in relief. Nothing. My skin begins to pebble, so I quickly towel dry my hair, then pull on a black tunic and soft, breezy pants. A selfish thought whispers through my mind at the vast amount of paperwork I will have to fill out tomorrow. I groan as I enter the barracks, pull back the velvet covers, and fall into bed. I dream of gold eyes that peer into my dark soul.
“Rook,” a female voice says. “Rook, wake up.” Rubbing my eyes, I sit up. Laura is hovering over me and gently placing a black gown on my bed. I raise my eyebrows and frown. “The queen wants to see you.” She flattens out the gown, ensuring it doesn’t wrinkle.
I try not to groan. “Thanks. Any news?” My voice is full of hope. Too much hope.
“I wish I could, but we are under strict orders not to speak about the incidents.”
Incidents, more than one that I’m involved with. As in, separate issues, unrelated.
She rubs my shoulder in a motherly way. “When all this is over and you want to talk, here for you.”
I heave a sigh. “Thank you, Laura, truly.”
She smiles back and nods to the bathroom doors.
I run to the bathroom, relieve myself, wash off, brush my teeth, comb through my tangled hair, and run out. The man who was sleeping in the corner bed is gone, probably doing something way more fascinating than putting on a gown and going before the queen. I take off the clothes that I slept in and pull on undergarments that Laura hands me. There is no embarrassment in changing in front of each other; any feelings like that were quickly tossed aside during Recruit training. There is hardly any privacy most of the time, and doing the job is more important than insecurities.
Laura gently holds the black gown down, careful not to crease it, and I step into it. It has a sweetheart neckline, a puffy skirt, and a built-in corset, which Laura pulls tightly, lifting my breasts and slimming my waist.
“Not too tight, I won’t be able to move. Or breathe.”
She pulls it one more time, causing the little air left in my lungs to push out. “Can never look too good for the queen.”
“True. But I also don’t want topass outin front of the queen,” I say tightly.
She gives a small laugh as if to say,that would never happen, but she doesn’t know how tight this dress is right now. Laura hands me the instruments to make up my face.
I frown. “I’m sure that’s not necessary since I’m not going in front of her advisors.”
“Hells. Go put some on.” Begrudgingly, I go back into the bathroom to put a light dusting of powder and a very small amount of rouge on my cheeks.
She frowns when she sees me. “Give it here. I swear, don’t you want to try? One would think you truly have no desires outside of being a Rook.”
I hand her everything back and ignore her first question. “What else could I possibly want?” So many things that I dare not say.
