Page 3 of Rook of Ruin
“Nah, he just loves a good nob,” one of the Rooks teases quietly.
“Not just good, fucking exquisite.” Zane puffs out, passing the pipe down the line of Rooks. Zane and my best friend Paul have been together for four years and just got promoted together. Zane loves him. Loves him with his whole big ginger heart. Paul was definitely hesitant to be with anyone, especially the ginger, but they are without a doubt the cutest. Zane nudges my arm. “When we get to the road, you’ll stick with me.”
“Three minutes,” the Rook disguised as a driver quietly calls out. Not even a breath can be heard in the cart, and only the soft sounds of the castle city’s night market ring out as we pass. I count down the seconds in my head, and my fingers grab the blade they’ve been itching for. Not only do I truly not have permission to be here, I have my brace on. A big fucking no-no for someone only assigned to the Locker. I almost want to laugh; the one time I get to go on a mission outside of the castle, I can’t even enjoy the thrill, the freedom. I can only feel the weight of Matron’s words.
The cart stops, and the black cover is thrown off. I cautiously follow the red-headed firecracker down a short, dirty, dark alley. The unpleasant smells of blood, piss, and soured alcohol mingle together as the alley narrows to a row of townhomes. There’s nothing about them that stands out; they look similar to every other townhome in Marrith—white-ish with the obvious signs of decay, decorated with homey items like wreaths and window boxes with flowers cascading down.
Zane’s white-gold-and-emerald brace lights up, and a fresh, clean breeze softly blows, cooling me down. “Stay here. Our targets will come out of there and flee like cockroaches. Defend yourself, and don’t leave here unless you must.” Although Zane is short and burly, he’s always seemed larger than life, almost like a giant. I’ve seen him go toe to toe with the worst of Acros in the Locker, and I trust him to keep me safe. He’s quite the paradox; his devilish streak almost cost him his left eye in a bar fight, but he often speaks like a Crow, full of pompous knowledge. His brace glows a little brighter, and he flashes awicked grin. One I would normally reciprocate, but I don’t . . . and he notices. Zane narrows his eyes for a moment but says nothing. He takes off into the darkness, and I watch as he creates a violent, rotating air storm that slams into three men walking towards the townhomes.
Quick movement pulls my eye, and I stare in fascination as more men pour out from the townhomes, only for Rooks to clash with them in such fierce brutality, it’s almost beautiful. A shadow appears out of nowhere, stalking down the cobbled stone road, an aura of death radiating from his striking masked figure. Truly, I hate that he’s so mesmerizing. The queen’s favorite violent Rook, the Spider, uses his power to create a shimmery black translucent shield, blocking the path behind him, ensuring he cannot be ambushed. He uses his power to subdue his prey and attack their bodies. He rips out the throat of a man on his knees and savagely assaults his next target with his sword.
The bloodied bodies on the ground are a reminder: this could be me. Thiswillbe me if I don’t get myself together. Matron’s words flow through my mind.“If you die, you will not receive the Rites. As a traitor of Acros, your body will be committed to ash in shame.”
The faint sound of an exhale has my body turning. A monster of a man pauses at the other end of the short alleyway, as surprised by my presence as I am by his. His very large knife gleams in the low light, and his lips curl. He is ugly, not only in the way his pudgy face draws a sly smile, but in the way he holds himself—grabbing his crotch. He shifts only slightly, staring at my body, allowing me to infer he won’t be leaving without a fight or a trophy.
“Compensating?” The words leave my mouth, and my finger flicks to point at his knife.
He laughs in cruel amusement before he speaks in an accent I’ve not heard before. “I’ve never broken a female Rook. You’ll fetch a pretty penny at the Stocks.”
The Stocks. An island where flesh is currency, and women are traded as if property.
“I’ve broken plenty of men like you before. I find it boring.” He rears back in surprise. “If you come any closer, your friends will be fetching your body from the Grey Sisters’ morgue.”
Not one for tit for tats, he rushes towards me, and I dodge his advance, blocking his blows and moving to tire him out. His fist connects with my face, and I stumble back, blood seeping out of my mouth. Faking to the left, my right strikes out with my dagger, slicing him across the chest. He roars and uses his body to shove me hard into the cold stone wall, smacking my head against it.
Pretending to be badly hurt, defeated, my power pushes through my body, healing my split lip and pounding head. Bending forward as if to drop to my knees and plead for mercy, I wait.
He peacocks. “Yeah, I’m gonna love having a Rook.”
Finally, he relaxes, leaving his right side open for a split second. Blood pours from the wound I carve into his flesh, and he stabs down, his knife hitting my head and slicing a long gash into my face and neck. My mask hangs awkwardly, and pain radiates down my body before my skin pulls together, healing completely, leaving nothing but blood coating my face. He drops down in front of me, his face landing in a puddle of piss, and I grin savagely.
“Damn.” Zane stands in the alleyway, peering down at the man, his brace bright. He calmly walks over, fisting the man’s greasy hair to check his face and not bothering to hide his excitement. “Yes! Heal him—we need him alive. You know who this is?”
I shake my head, healing the almost-dead bastard.
“This, my friend, is the motherfucker we have been hunting. Darren Epher. He’s the Panther’s second, and when the Spider finds out you did this . . . I probably should’ve taken bets.”
“I don’t know who the Panther is. We could say you did it,” I say awkwardly. I want to claim this prize, but I also know I shouldn’t. This is not what I need; I don’t want attention right now.
Zane clicks his tongue in disapproval. “The Panther is who supplies the Stocks, and no, I’m not taking this from you.” He shakes his head for a moment and then practically prances with joy. He uses his power to lift the wanted man slightly, but not enough that the ugly man’s face doesn’t scrape against the ground. I begrudgingly follow him, walking back to the rickety cart surrounded by Rooks talking in a hushed manner.
“What are you doing here? Rook, what is she doing here?” The silky deep voice slithers through the darkness. My body goes rigid. The bane of my life, the Spider, folds his arms. His stupid handsome face is concealed behind a black mask, and his grey eyes take in my bloody body. He steps closer, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear there was a flicker of amusement there before the rage. “Why is she covered in blood and—”
“Check him.” Zane bounces on his toes.
The Spider kicks the almost-dead man, rolling him over, then sucks in a breath. His eyes slowly brighten, staring at Zane. “Did you do this?”
Zane laughs. “Nope. It was all her.”
Every single Rook turns their eyes to me. What would I normally do? Preen, smirk, anything but stand and stare back. I open my mouth before a harsh breeze hits my ripped mask and it floats away.
Large calloused hands cover my face, then smother my body into bloody leathers. I’m pushed against the Spider’s hard chest.
“Get off!” A blanket is placed over my body as I try to bat it away. “Get me something else! This reeks!”
“There is nothing else,” Zane replies quietly to my side. “And we need to get you out of here.” He chuckles. “Looks like the Spider is going with you.”
I’m heaved up into the cart, arms pinned to my sides, and placed on the floor between two muscly thighs. The cart moves at a clipped pace, and I pull at the suffocating blanket to breathe, not to take it off, but just to have air.
