Page 142 of Rook of Ruin
I don’t cry when a little hand takes mine, and all I can do is console Milo, holding him tight. His tears fall down his face, hissilence breaking my heart even further, and if I could take his pain, I would. Dove offered to stay with him in his room, but he told us frankly, “I am one of you now, and I will show them the honor they deserve. Please do not leave me here.”
Bow and Crusher bow their heads as they carry an unconscious Simon into our bedroom. I don’t cry when Bow helps me remove Simon’s leathers to reveal deep, dark bruises marring the body of the man I love. The bruises, we discover, are a form of decay. Necrotic tissue. When we have him settled, our boy demands to come in. I give him time and whisper words of encouragement mixed with love before he is ushered out.
For several hours, I sit with Simon, holding his hand, talking to him about everything and nothing at all. When my voice becomes hoarse, Bow sits with me while warrior after warrior filters into the room and speaks calmly to Simon. I don’t cry when letters and gifts begin pouring in with sympathy for a husband who is still alive. I hold on to hope and refuse to give in to the sorrow which threatens to grip my heart.
Cursed.The word rings in my ears, whispered from a tiny voice that has known far too much sorrow and pain in his short life. I glance down at Milo. His head is bowed, so I cannot fully see his sweet face.
“You’ll save him, right?” he asks me, wiping away a steady stream of tears.
“I will do everything and anything I can, little love.”
“Fight for me.”Ossian’s words fill my mind, and I shove them to the back. I don’t want to think of him. Not now. Not ever.
I bend down and kiss Milo’s floppy-haired head, and he looks up. Other than green eyes and lack of scars, he looks exactly like his father. He nods and whispers, “I’m tired.”
“It’s been a tiring day. Get some rest.” He nods again, and in the soft light from the sconces, he walks down to his room. There is no doubt I will be checking on him throughout the night too. He has experienced enough at such a tender age. After Simon came home, Milo decided to speak to me at length about his mother and her murder—how he is afraid to be discovered by theman who killed her. I listened to him, comforted him, and then assured him that his mother’s killer will not escape justice. What Milo doesn’t know is how that justice will be served—fucking lethally.
I rub my temple and drag my feet across the hall to a small guest room with the door wide open. Viper sits on a wooden chair with his head in his hands as Red sleeps. He lifts his head slowly as I walk in, his tear-stained face matching my own. Viper shakes his head in sorrow. Offering what comfort I can, understanding that the sacrifice given can never be repaid, I take my leave. Simon and our warriors are heroes, and heroes bare the scars of battle. Heroes feel the weight of the loss of their brothers and sisters in arms. As do their loved ones.
Crusher stands from his chair as I round the corner of the hall. “Scouts have been sent out. There is a healthy rotation of guards here and in Lautterum. I will be outside the door, then Dove, and then Yarn. We received word from Perrick that their healers will release Stallion within two weeks. The king is sending his personal healer for Simon.”
“Thank you, Crusher.” I smile sadly. He opens our door, and Simon’s large body is still lying peacefully. Dragging myself to the dresser, peeling off my clothes and putting on a silk nightdress, I finally lay my exhausted body down.
Large hands circle my waist. “I missed you.” His deep voice, pained and breathy.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Relief shoots through my body, and I squeeze his arms, thankful the curse doesn’t spread through contact. It’s a malicious enchantment with no known cure—my spies, my Larks, in Acros were able to confirm that from a few drunk Crows. My teeth scrape across my bottom lip as I try to come up with a plan to save Simon.
We lie silently until Simon begins gasping, desperately trying to breathe.
“Crusher!” I yell, holding onto Simon as he shakes, unable to breathe, sweat pouring off his head. Panic ebbs its way through my body. “Get a healer, please!” Crusher disappears and reappears with Wren, our lanky healer.
Wren quickly checks Simon over. “It’s not shock. Roll him onto his left side.” Simon begins wheezing, blood speckling the white pillow next to his face. I hold on to him while Wren rummages through his bag, producing a funnel device that he lays on Simon’s back and taps. He pales. “Hells.”
“What?”
“It’s his lungs. I can try something, but I can’t guarantee it will work.”
“What happens if we don’t try?” He gives me a look, and I know we have no other option. “Do it.”
Wren has Crusher hold Simon up, splashes alcohol onto his back, and then stabs him with a long, thick needle connected to a tube. He begins sucking on the tube until thick black fluid begins flowing out. Wren gags and places the tube down, putrid black liquid draining out and onto the floor. Crusher places his hand over his nose from the smell. Slowly, Simon’s chest begins to rise and fall normally.
“Get me Isle,” Simon wheezes out.
Grabbing a blue robe and running out of the house and into the barracks, I almost slam into Bow. “Where is Isle?”
“Sleeping. Do you need her?”
“Simon does. Get her please.” Not bothering to wait for a response, I sprint back inside. Crusher is still holding Simon up, and black fluid is dripping all over the floor. I pause just before our sleigh bed. “Isle is on her way. Is there anything else you need?”
Simon moves his head slowly. “I need you to leave. I can’t do this in front of you.”
“Simon, I—”
“Get out.”
I swallow. Crusher’s eyes won’t meet mine. There’s only the soft thuds of the black liquid coming from the tube as I turn to stand at the threshold of the door. I’m neither in the room, nor am I completely out. I watch Simon, desperately wanting to comfort him.
Isle squeezes in beside me, and Simon whispers something to her. She walks back over to me, her face showing genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry.” Gently, she removes me from the threshold and shuts the door in my face.
