Page 5 of Rook of Ruin
I force a smirk. “Never? I didn’t realize—”
“You didn’t realizeIwould be the one who is standing?” He smiles, and fuck, it’s predatory.
He’s right. I’ll be kneeling as he executes me for treason.
Jumping off the cart, I open my mouth to give a snarky retort, but a female Rook runs over to the Spider with a seductive smile. “Reconnaissance mission, leaving in an hour.” She lingers for a moment, still showing her desire. I wonder briefly if they have ever been together. If they are together. She sways her hips as she leaves, and I smother another laugh when he takes no notice. He glares at the paper in his hand. I doubt he’s ever thought of anything other than a mission or the queen.
My heart may have settled from the news of his departure, but I decide to ask the one question burning in my mind since speaking to Matron. “Ossian.”
The Spider tips his head to look at me.
I worry my lip for a moment, contemplating exactly what I should say.No, bad idea.“Never mind.”
He takes off his mask. Midnight hair falls down across his face, and his handsome, piercing features with scarred lips are clear of any blood. He tucks his hair behind his ear. Ossian grabs my arm and pulls me into the alcove next to the barracks, towering over me. “Look at me, O.”
I do, and I frown. What was I thinking almost asking him? I chalk this up to pure panic.
“Keep your mouth shut. You never went out into Marrith. You were never there.”
“I wouldneverreveal anything about a mission,” I bite back. Rage burns little holes in my heart, and any doubts that plagued my mind are gone.
He snorts. “That wasn’t a mission.Thatwas nothing. You don’t know what a real mission is—you don’t know the sacrifices we’ve made. You know nothing of life outside these castle walls. You are worse than the Truth Seers at the castle; at least they have a purpose for our queen. You, Orlaith, are a placeholder for the next Rook.”
My nose wrinkles. “You are a jealous, cruel man.”
“No, I’m an honest man. You’re just too stubborn to see it.”
“Honest? I doubt there is an honest bone in your body. Exactly why you won’t receive your knighthood.” I turn to leave, and he slaps his hand against the hard stone wall in front of my face.
He dips his mouth to my ear. “I’ll get what I want. Now give me your brace and your dagger. I will take it to the Locker for you.” My skin prickles from his closeness, and I scowl as I remove my brace and my dagger, placing them both in his outstretched hand. He leans down a little further. “You are the most frustrating person I’ve ever met. I tell you the truth and you spit it in my face. I—”
“You have hated me since I was a Recruit. Go. Go on your mission. When we see each other next, I have no doubt you will hate me even more.” I duck under his hand and run into the barracks, then up the stone stairs, passing every room until I get to the large shared bathroom.
Stomping past a gaggle of female Rooks doing their hair, I strip off my leathers and undergarments, then toss them into my wicker laundry basket for the Recruits to clean. The cold, blue tile bites into my feet as I turn on the hot water for a bath. I listen to the other girls chatter away about their lives before slipping into the steaming bath.
I always wanted to be included in their clique, but as soon as they found out who I am, they stayed away. A part of me is saddened by this. I’m either sought out or shunned. It’s another reason I don’t bother learning the names of other Rooks. Mostly, I’ve lived a solitary life, and I selfishly want what they have—freedom, an honest to goodnesslifewhere I make all my own choices. That choice would be to live anywhere other than within these castle walls. It could be a simple life. I could even be a pirate, or a wife to a pirate, and as long as he loved me, I would be happy.
Slamming my fist into the water, I shove down my emotions and refuse to feel sorry for myself. I could have it worse. I don’t really need more friends anyway. Better to have true friends who love me like family than false ones who love only power. The water turns a sickly pink, and I drain it, refilling it to scrub my pale skin and wash my golden brown hair.
“I saw the Spider rush out of the same corridor, furious, with blood on his leathers. This is why I tell you, do not go to your chain of command. Do not trust anyone. I hope he is not involved, but if he is—let us hope he turns away from the seduction of the darkness before it is too late.”
Itoss and turn in my bed, finding little comfort in my small, private room in the barracks. Compared to my rooms in the castle, this one is simple and sparse. Picking up the red leather book off my nightstand—its story full of lust and treachery—I thank the stars that the smutty novels I read are deemed useless, because this book helped me formulate a plan that could be my undoing. A terrible and treasonous plan.
“‘I’m a patriot and the betrayer,’” my voice whispers in my empty room as I reread the book.
I continue to read until the morning sun peeks through the small round window. When I do begin to drift, shadows come around me, pulling me back. My mind reaches into the past, and I become a Recruit again. It’s the fine line where I know I’m dreaming but my mind still believes it’s real.
I’m back in the Hall of Rites. My blood-stained fighting leathers and windswept hair is so unlike those of the future Rooks before me. My friends Tess and Paul are in thisgraduating class. Tess dyed her short hair blue for this occasion, but it’s Paul who draws my eye. He keeps fidgeting in his seat.
“Step forward, Recruit Tess Jaques.”
Paul and I excitedly cheer for her. Tess walks forward and lifts her fists into the air, pride written all over her beautiful face. A redheaded Rook steps up and begins quickly speaking to her, his voice booming throughout the hall as he whisks her away.
Blowing out a steadying breath, butterflies fill my stomach. I try to think of everything I’ve done to get here, to this moment. I just didn’t think it would come today. At the top of my Recruit class, I was placed in higher-level training courses and worked hard—harder than anyone else. I will be found worthy. I will be a Rook.
My attention snaps to several veteran Rooks sauntering up to the pews, ready to collect and escort Recruits to their—ourceremony. Rooks provide sage advice to the Recruits before they receive their black wings on brown leathers and their brace. It’s a tradition that holds meaning for everyone in this sacred hall.
“Step forward, Recruit Orlaith Verlan.” The Grey Sister’s voice echoes, soft but firm. I’m thankful she omitted my title—Lady. Something else that separates me from them. To my chagrin, a handsome Rook with a sharp jawline moves to the front, muscles expanding his brown leathers and jet-black hair pulled back into a sleek, low bun. Grey eyes sweep the room and land on mine. The only sign of his displeasure is the slight frown at the corner of his lips. I narrow my eyes.Ossian.
