Page 18 of Rook of Ruin
I let out a short laugh. “Well don’t we all, Simon? Should we find a woman who might also enjoy your company? I believe some of the ladies of the court take a leisurely stroll around this time of day.”
He grins, and we settle into an easy silence. The carriage slowly takes us from the militarized area of the castle to the more serene. Typical of the queen of Acros, showing off such splendor, hiding the danger. I’m under no illusion that the beautiful decor draws eyes away from Marrith. The surrounding city is pretty, ostentatious even. But to me, it’s ugly. I’ve always had to request permission to leave the castle, and each time I’ve gone out, I haven’t been too impressed with Marrith. There is an equal amount of danger lurking within the castle and the city of Marrith, only different kinds. After working in the Locker, I understand that just because something seems beautiful on the outside, it doesn’t mean it’s not rotten on the inside. Lady Clairene Fucking Whistble comes to mind.
The carriage moves along the stone path, and we pass fountains, occasional sculptures, and people, lots of people rushing about—servants and merchants bringing in and hauling away goods, couriers rushing about, court members strolling by, castle guards patrolling the grounds, and the occasional Rookand Crow looking out of place. Blue and ivory everywhere—it’s almost too much. I shut my eyes, and a headache blooms. Quickly, I heal my headache. When I open my eyes back up, I’m a little startled to see Simon still smiling at me. I want to say something snarky, cruel even. He hasn’t done anything to deserve it though. It’s hard when he keeps smiling at me. Quite unnerving. Where is Ossian’s cool indifference when I need it?And why do I care?
Our carriage lurches to a stop, and Simon opens the gate and hops back down. For a large, broad-shouldered man, he is quite nimble. He is perhaps a little taller than Tess—I think she would like him. Maybe Paul would too.
Simon holds out his hand. Again, I do not take it, but I give him a wink, as if it’s now a game. He joyously laughs again.Weirdo.
I look up, and up, and up at the castle. Instead of the grey stone of the Locker, the castle is white stone with gold veins running throughout. It shimmers in the sun. Simply beautiful. It doesn’t matter that Simon and I arrived at the east corner entrance rather than the grand one at the front of the palace, we are still welcomed by several staff ready to cater to our needs.
Brimming with excitement, Patsy, my usual lady’s maid, waits for me at the top of the stairs. Her shiny grey hair is pulled up into a tight bun, and her blue chiffon dress stands out against the ivory stone. I practically run up the stairs, Simon trailing behind me. I give Patsy a huge hug, my arms wrapping around her beautiful pear-shaped body. Although I live only a short distance away, it’s been forever. Patsy instantly hugs me back. The woman basically raised me, the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother.
“Well, now that that’s out of the way.” She laughs. “I have to bring you to your sister’s drawing room, Lady Verlan.”
“One day you are going to use my real name, Patsy.” I sigh.
“I am, Lady Verlan.” She sticks her sharp nose up at me, and I laugh. Ever the traditionalist, Patsy. She is loyal, kind, and has a good head on her shoulders. She knew my mother, and it’s a comfort to have her around. She puts her hand on my back and leads me up the stairs.
“O.” Simon catches up to us as we walk into a large ivory foyer. “Thank you for accompanying me on a carriage ride.” He grins, his dimples moving farther into his face.
“Simon, the pleasure was mine.” I give him a smile. “If I find any beautiful women, I’ll be sure to send them your way.”
He bows, I curtsy, and he leaves. I don’t miss curtsying. I don’t miss the formalness of court. I don’t miss the games people play, saying one thing and doing another. I can handle that, in the Locker, it’s expected, but I can’t go stabbing or peeling the flesh off every lord and lady who says the wrong thing. I blow out a sigh.One can wish.
A knowing grin comes from Patsy. “What was that?”
An expression of ‘hells if I know’ comes across my face. I really don’t. I don’t know Simon. I don’t know if he is playing a game. What I do know is I’m internally struggling and this corset is slowly murdering my lungs. Patsy and I hurry through the luxurious castle—passing marble statues with gold filigree, lush blue flowers in large golden planters, paintings of prior royals—and up several flights of stairs with carved gold banisters until we finally reach two ivory-and-gold double doors. Two of the queen’s personal guards, Ravens, stand perfectly still, guarding the entrance to my sister’s rooms. Their black leathers are wonderfully intimidating and damned impressive. I’m slightly jealous of their feather-like black leathers and masks that prevent anyone from knowing their identity, but still, I won’t discount my leathers with Rook wings anytime soon.
Patsy takes her leave, and I peek into the bright room full of light pink and purple hues. Ralin is puffed up on a soft peachcouch in a very loose gown, belly swollen, eating frosted cakes and drinking tea. She is the perfect image of what a royal queen should be. Raven hair, tan and flawless skin, long eyelashes, tall, and a curvy shape to die for. Once a warrior, now a future queen, Ralin is the epitome of a powerful woman. She is everything I try to be, especially at court. After years of training, she is a master at the game of politics. Trained by the very best, her-mother-in-law, the queen.
Ralin’s skin is radiant, and her hair is perfectly braided into a crown upon her head. She notices I’m here and motions for me to come in. Plump lips and the shape of our large eyes are the only things we physically have in common. I’m shorter, have golden-brown hair, hazel eyes, and I’m not able to pack on muscle like Ralin does. Where she is regal, I am reckless. Where she is graceful, I lack refinement. Where she has voluptuous curves, my curves are less pronounced. When I was younger, Ralin told me it happens with age and motherhood. Even though I’m only six years younger, I’m still waiting for curves like hers, and hopefully, I’ll one day be a mother too.
“I think I might explode.” Ralin makes a face as she moves her body to get a little more comfortable. She places another pillow behind her to prop herself up.
“You better not—you still have four months left.” I smile at her pregnant belly. There’s no formality in her chambers—that’s reserved for the public, and even then, I skirt the line. I plop down on the couch across from her and offer her more tea from the pot. She holds out her cup, and I pour a generous amount, adding milk and three cubes of sugar. I busy myself with my own plain tea and swipe a frosted cake. We both bring the tea up to our noses, smell the rich aroma, and then sip. I fidget a bit in my corset dress—if I could, I would untie the back and lay my body across the comfortable peach couch.
“Mother said”—Ralin pauses, shifting her body, and trying to get comfortable again. We don’t have much recollection of our parents; what we do remember are a few turns of phrases and what was told to us by the queen and Patsy. Since we were children, Ralin has called Queen Inara,Mother. I’ve always thought it weird. Probably because Queen Inara never offered it to me. Ralin sighs. “I told Mother I was going to be the one to speak to you. The only reason you’re with me instead of her is probably because of how close I am to giving birth.” Ralin used her influence with the queen to help me. If she did that, then whatever is about to be said is bad. She adjusts herself again. “You know I would protect you, I would do anything for you. I’ve tried.” Her eyes plead with me as if I am supposed to know what exactly is to be said next.
“I know you would do anything for me.” I give her what I hope is an encouraging smile, but inside, I’m in knots.
“Tomorrow, you will go before the queen and her advisors. You will be questioned about Matron, what happened in the Locker”—she glances at my brace—“and what is happening with your brace. When you are finished, and depending on the outcome of their inquiries, you will be expected to come out for the season.” She looks at me like I need to forgive her for what she is about to say. “You are the future queen’s sister and will be courted by the best. Our kingdom needs allies—you can help us with that. We do not know what the future holds.” And hells if she didn’t just rub her belly.
My face falls. I’m not concerned about the advisors or their questions; I’m resentful that I’m being placed out in the world for marriage without consideration for whatIwant. I worked so hard to become a Rook—it’s my life. Now I have to throw it all away because of . . . allies?
I try not to lose my temper. “Why do we need allies?”
I’m supposed to find someone who loves me, truly loves me like Ralin loves Lewis. It didn’t matter to either of them that he is the future king—they fell in love. Ralin told me she couldn’t stand being away from him, her body would physically ache for him, a deep need to always be with him.Soulmatesis what she calls it. I believe it. I would like to think I could have that one day. But I’m not getting the chance to findhim—I’m being forced to findsomeone.
“It is precautionary, of course. But you knew this day would come.”
“What do—”
Railin interrupts me, “I will do everything I can to ensure it is a suitable marriage. I want you to be happy, and I said so to Mother. I know this is not what you want, but we do what we must for our kingdom. To put it in perspective, if you are willing to sacrifice your life as a Rook for your queen and kingdom, then you can marry for it too.” There was a flash of something in her eyes as she said the last part. “You areloyal,Orlaith, and I know you will do this. For the future of our kingdom.” She rubs her belly again.
I feel the walls closing around my mind, and I speak to her formally. “I see. Thank you for informing me. If you will excuse me, I will . . . I will need a few moments to myself.” I jump up, and my teacup clatters to the floor. I quickly pick it up and almost fall over from the lack of oxygen. I know this is not my sister’s doing, but I push salt into my wound and curtsy to her. Ralin frowns but nods in respect.
Rushing out of her pastel room, I try to come up with a plan. If I go to my room, Patsy will want to talk about how this is a good thing. It’s not. I just need to be alone.
