Page 134 of Rook of Ruin
I’m not okay. I’m far from okay. I try not to be angry. I try to be understanding of his feelings. It was probably a shock to discover me in such a state.
“Do you know what I heard at the castle?”
I grit my teeth. “How would I?”
“After your warriors barged in on the meeting with Paul and my father, they inferred Callan was a threat, so I sent Isle to find out what the fuck was happening.” He runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Then one of Callan’s guards came inhours later with a message saying you were injured because our warriors disgraced you—that you took a beating to stop their dishonor.” He doesn’t bother to look at me, which tells me everything I need to know. “I had to order Crusher and Paul to be restrained to prevent them from killing Callan’s guard.” He shakes his head. “So Father demanded Paul and I wait to find out from Callan himself.”
I smile on the inside. “That was nice of Paul and Crusher.” It’s an accusation, and Simon knows it.
He grits his teeth. “Do you know how that felt? To be forced to wait to find out if my brother truly beat my wife?”
Sarcasm laces my voice. “No, why don’tyoutellmehow it felt?”
He scoffs at my scowl. “When Callan finally fucking arrived, he said you chose to take the punishment, made him swear and follow through. Is it true?”
I try to keep my voice even. “I was . . . hit with a bunch of damn twigs, and our warriors were carrying through with my orders. They didn’t deserve to be punished.”
“Butyoudid?”
I frown. “Did I say I did?”How in the fuck is this my fault? “He killed Boots.” Simon should be angry at Callan, he should be plotting to seek revenge, he should be comforting me. He should be gently, carefully wrapping his wonderfully large body around mine. He should be showing me love and affection. Hells, I would enjoy it if he kneeled in front of me right now and—
Simon’s voice pierces my thoughts. “Boots deserved to die because he gave you up. What if Callan had been the Malevolent?”
“He didn’t deserve to die. It was Callan, not the Malevolent. Is that really the name we are giving them? There’s nothing better?” I tap my fingers on my thighs, trying to remain calm.
“Be serious,” Simon hisses. “What if you are pregnant?”
I bring my hands up to my chest, trying to protect my heart. “I’m not. You know I’m not.”
“I fucking know you’re not.” He throws a bottle at me. Confused, I pick it up. “Why do you have asterlyn, Orlaith?”
I open it and smell it. The oddly smoky and acidic smell wafts from the small bottle. Definitely asterlyn. I hand it back, but he doesn’t accept it. “This isn’t mine.”Truth.
Simon stares at me, blinking. It takes only a second for me to understand. He doesn’t believe me.
“Why was it in our bathroom? I didn’t have it. You must be taking it. If you didn’t want to have a child, why not tell me? Why make me think that we were trying?”
I feel the room spin. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t lie to you.” I reach for him again, and he just stares at my hands as if they are the cause for this argument.
Simon shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s the truth.”
“Get out.” I point to the door. “Just get out. If you don’t believe me, just get out.”
Simon opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but he pushes a hand through his soft curly hair and leaves. I run to the bathroom and vomit, then I cry, the stinging pain from my back growing. I letit. I take it in and become an angry mess.
Isle finds me on the floor and smooths out my hair as she holds me gently and I sob out what happened. Isle says nothing, allowing my heart to shatter as my marriage begins to crumble with it.
A few days after Simon’s accusation, we receive a message from Paul, telling us the king has decided to send warriors to the border and that Paul will meet Simon there in three days. It waskind of Paul to stay back at the castle of Bethal to keep an eye on Callan. His coded message also asks if I wanted him to kill the prince. It’s good to have murderous friends.
Simon hasn’t spoken to me but relayed a message through Isle that I’m to stay here. I roll my eyes at his pettiness.
I’ve decided I’ve had enough silence. I walk into his study as Simon slams down a glass of whiskey. He looks as awful as I feel. I sit down in front of him, still careful of my back, and he places a glass in front of me, filling it until it almost sloshes over. He holds up his glass, and I hold up mine, then I take a drink, and I let it burn all the way down to my stomach.
“Do you have a lover?” Simon asks bitterly.
He frowns when I laugh out. “Yes, I do, and he’s right in front of me.”
“Not everything needs to be a joke.” He sighs and takes a long drink. The scruff on his face is turning out to be a nice beard. I like it.
