Page 96 of Rook of Ruin
The Baron’s words run through my mind.“Wraiths are complicated creatures.”
“I—”
Simon hugs me again. “Trust me. In the heat of battle, sometimes things aren’t what they seem. We need to tend to our warriors.”
We quickly break apart to assess our injured, but before us, every warrior is on their knees, even the lone Rook. Simon looks at me, a soft smile on his lips, and he tilts his head as if to saygo ahead.
“Aeternus fidelis!” I shout and put my fist to my heart. Each warrior stands and yells their loyalty back with a fist to their own hearts.
“Fucking fierce,” Isle says, smiling at me.
I grin as I seek out the two women who fought by my side. I hand the blonde her stallion’s reins. “Thank you for trusting me with your lives. It was an honor to fight by your side, and his too.” I rub my hand alongside the beautiful black steed, and notice its legs are healed. I have heard people seeing things in the heat of battle—
“It was our honor, ma’am.” The blonde speaks to me with a smile.
“What are your names?” They give me shy grins. Dove is the raven-haired woman. Red is the blonde with a scar on her neck. My new personal guards. Simon gives his approval without a second thought.
We separate, looking for injured. Luckily and unluckily, four more warriors and Paul are in need of healing. If I only had my brace.
The thought has me shook, adrenaline still pumping in my veins, and I clamp my fingers around my wrist. Nothing. I pullup the layer of black leather to peek at my skin, to see if the soft glow is there. Normal. I’m going fucking insane. It must have been Paul and his wind power.
Simon holds Paul up as they walk towards us. Paul’s leg has a wicked gash running alongside it. I slide his arm over my shoulder and whisper, “I love you, Paul.” He gives me a sideways grin.
Simon’s dimples push in. “You’ll come with us to Bethal, Paul. We can’t leave you here, and you won’t be able to ride. I’ll send a letter to the queen and your superior officer.”
At the edge of the forest lie our wounded, some screaming in pain and others silent.
“Simon.” We look at each other.
If I had my brace, I could save them all.
Warriors flank us on both sides as we enter the village, and I choke down bile from the putrid smell. Instead of riding with Simon, I chose to ride next to the royal carriage to keep an eye on Paul, who is lying down inside—a perk of being our guest. My worry for Paul is tangled with my anger at Simon for leaving me behind while he ran out into the fray. I understand thewhy,I just don’t understand the delivery. He could have said something, anything. He could have—
Oh no.
Brownish-red and black stains on a thatched cottage. On the porch, a small rocking horse. I gulp down my sorrow. Everything I thought and felt seconds ago doesn’t matter. I could have lost him. Simon could havedied, and I’m angry that he tried to save my life.
I don’t have the stomach to look around. I keep my eyes focused ahead. The only time I allow my eyes to wander is when I move Sal to avoid an overturned cart, a tiny hand sticking out from underneath and old blood saturating the ground. Tearscome down my face; I brush them away quickly, but the brutality will stay with me forever. Instead of sadness, I’ll get angry for what happened here. I’ll let that little flame of anger sit in my chest. I’ll hold on to it for a day I’ll need it, and then I’ll use it to fucking destroy.
“Ma’am.” Red comes up next to me. “Fucking gruesome.” We edge our way out of town.
“Yes.” We stay quiet for a while until Simon rides back to me. Red slows her stallion, falling back as he approaches.
“Once we make it over that”—he points to a steep incline and then a wooded area—“we will be in Bethal.” He gives me a small smile, one not worthy of dimples, given the depravity of the village. I nod, and he looks to the carriage, then back at me. “How are you feeling?”
I don’t know what to say. I’m a host of emotions; anger, devastation, sorrow, distress. The only thing I can do is tell him the truth. “I don’t really have words for what I just saw.”
He goes to put a hand through his hair and pauses, thinking better of it. The dried blood on all of us is sticky and gross. “I understand. That was . . . horrific. If there is anything I can do, I’m here for you.”
I nod.
“O, I—”
Isle comes up quickly on her horse. “Sir, you are needed.”
He seems conflicted.
“Go on. Go do knightly prince things.” I give him a small smile, and his face instantly relaxes.
