Page 140 of Rook of Ruin
“But she—”
“Of Acros,” he pants out. “Her p-personal library.”
“When,” I fucking demand, locking down my emotions.
“A f-few years ago.” Sweat glistens down his face, his chest is heaving. “He was in c-contact with a Rook. The Spider.”
“Does the Spider know anything about thesebooks?” I swallow, trying not to panic from the words I just read.
“I d-don’t know.” He shifts his feet.Lie.
I flick my finger, and Bow slaps his hand over Gribble’s mouth and twists his dagger. Gribble shakes his head, releasing a muffled cry of “No, he doesn’t know the queen had them or that Lord Cobal has them!”
I can hear the pounding of my own blood in my ears. “Anything else you can tell me about the books?”
Gribble’s heavy, pained breathing slows. “No . . . only they are important.”
“Why did Lord Cobal leave these?”
Tears fall from Gribble’s face. “If he was . . . found with them, it would be his death. He sails for Acros.”
“Do Prince Caddel, either Cian or Callan, do they know anything about this?”
“No. No one else . . . that I know of.”Truth.
“Last question, what is Lord Cobal’s preference? Men? Women . . .? Children?” Gribble’s eyes look down, and fury fills my body. I tilt my head, and Bow snaps his neck.
I go through all the papers, Ossian’s sloppy handwriting asking for more information on missing children from Enthe and the Panther, the man I met at the ball. Crumbling the papers in my hands, I stare at the floor. “What did he say.” Not a question, a command.
Bow shifts, but it’s Stallion who speaks. “He said Sir Caddel only married you out of desperation for the crown.” Stallion bares his teeth. “Death was too good for this fuck.”
I laugh because Gribble’s words were not true. If Simon wanted the crown, he would have told me, and we would take it from Callan together. This is the second time I’ve heard this, and I fucking hate it. “Thank you both.”
“Ruin.” Bow’s eyes say it all. He didn’t believe a word the fucking butler said either.
I smile, but inside, I rage.
The morning comes with a vengeance, and thick hot coffee is served by a few grateful women by the tent. I drink deeply, the warmth spreading throughout my body. Rites were conducted all night, and we kept busy by assisting the healers and digging graves. Dirty, smelly, and covered in blood, I take a quick moment to savor the warm sun.
Loud hooves rumble through the town, and Isle greets me with the Great Warrior King of Bethal and his warriors, who look like they’ve had a battle of his own with the amount of black blood on their bodies. I bow low because curtsying isn’t something to do in leathers. I wait, eyes lowered for him to greet me. A large wrinkled hand reaches forward and gently touches my bloody face. I look up.
The Warrior King smiles down at me with a fist to his heart. “Aeternus fidelis, daughter of mine. Princess Caddel, loved by all!”
My heart soars watching every warrior do the same. I bring my fist to my heart, and tears form in my eyes, “Aeternus fidelis, my king, our brave warriors. The honor is truly mine!”
I hear Simon’s chuckle coming up from the king’s chest. “Well, Ruin, let us look at what else needs to be done.”
The king and I walk throughout the whole city. We direct our warriors where to help, we comfort those who lost loved ones, we grieve with them and offer words of hope. Then we view the grain storage, thankful that it remains intact, and make it back to the center of town. With darkness creeping in, howls of new heartache and misery come from the makeshift healer’s tent.
Callan walks out of the tent with a false sympathetic look on his face when he sees us. I try to keep my Ossian mask on tight, uncaring, unemotional, but inside, I’m shaking with anger.
Isle pulls me aside. “Ruin—”
“O!” I turn, and Callan’s arms grasp me, bringing me into his chest for a hug. I stiffen, the pressure on my back causing pain, but I force my body to relax. “O, I’m so sorry. Father—” He shakes his head sadly. “I came as soon as I received word. I’m surprised you are here, Orlaith, given Simon’s injuries.” My mask escapes me, and his eyes show no true sadness as he speaks. “I’m sorry, Orlaith, did you not receive my message? Simon was injured, very badly. They are bringing him to Brynmawr. I’m sorry. Father, I sent one to you as well.”
The king stumbles forward like he was struck. I stand numbly, waiting for Callan to finish torturing me with his lies. Simon isn’t hurt. Wouldn’t I feel it? Wouldn’t I know? King Caddel’s hand touches my shoulder gently, and I realize it’s true. It’s fucking true. Violence crosses my maskless face. What the king takes for fury against the Malevolent is truly against the son enjoying the pain I feel. Isle gives me a brief look of warning. If I murder Callan now, I will surely die.
Callan clears his throat. “O, would you like to take my carriage back home? It would be an honor to escort you. I’m sure the warriors Father and I brought with us will be able to continue your efforts here.”
