Page 148 of Rook of Ruin
Silence is the only reply as he struggles to breathe. Sweeping grief runs through me as his chest rises and falls slowly.
I kiss his face, wondering if he can hear me, wondering if he knows. I bend further at my waist, my lips next to his ear, and I whisper, “Forgive me for my vengeance.” Maybe my words became a memory as Simon’s breath stutters.
“It’s time.” The Grey Sister gently touches Simon, and I feel like I’ve been stabbed through the heart again by another dagger.
Angrily, I reply, “I’m not ready. I don’t want to leave him yet.” I look down at my husband. “This is not how it was supposed to be.” Tears threaten to spill, and I blink them back.
“I promise I will take care of him.” She motions for Isle, who is careful not to touch me, even though my final runes have not yet been marked. Isle moves me with her presence out of the room.
“Please, Isle, I need to be with him until the end. He needs me,” I beg. “I need him to know I never—”
“He knows.” She struggles to get out the words. “We all feel the same. You are not alone.”
But I am alone. I’m so alone.
Isle leads me into the study, where I stand numbly, waiting as a Grey Sister, walks in with a blood-red stone and begins to paint the runes on my face.
“You will no longer carry the Warrior’s Name Ruin. It is tradition to change it when your loved one has passed.” Isleclears her throat. “You are renamed. You are Bête—Beast. The Beast of Bethal.”
The name stings. A stupid-ass name, but one I’m sure was given out of love.
Numbly, I take the thin veil and crown from the Grey Sister’s tray and place them on my head. Carefully, she brushes the runes onto my shaking hands. I try to keep them still, but I’m falling apart. With the last stroke of her brush, I realize I’m all that is left of Simon.
Iwalk alone. Isle and Dove ride on either side of me, keeping a respectful distance, and Stallion and Milo walk together in the long procession of warriors. Artho and Salann pull the black box adorned with lavender and white roses on a small glass cart as Callan leads them. I hold my head up and watch as every man, woman, and child of Lautterum kneels before the box that will forever hold pieces of me.
The ceremony in the church is short and beautiful, but the kind words spoken are like a constant humming in my ear. I don’t remember walking to the lake behind Brynmawr, and I can’t bring myself to care that the king of Bethal stayed in the woods away from us. Away from me, because I am an Untouchable.
I don’t cry as they lower him into the ground.
I don’t cry as I toss a white rose onto the six-sided box.
I don’t cry as I’m handed his memories.
I don’t dare cry as Milo takes one of Simon’s memories into his small hands, and I watch his eyes go out of focus before the stonein his hands turn clear. I stand numb. I can’t hold him, kiss him, hug him, or give him any physical solace. I can only speak words of comfort, soft soothing words of comfort.
Isle holds Milo as I stand by myself in the corner of his light blue bedroom. Stallion leans against the wall next to me, protecting us. He’s had to stop Milo a few times from touching me, the act in itself is a blow to our hearts. It takes several hours for him to fall asleep, and in the late hour of the night, Isle and Stallion walk me to our—my bedroom, sweeping it before I enter. Stallion and Bow stand outside of my door, Isle and Dove on the inside.
Removing my veil in the bathroom, I finally bring my eyes up to look at my rune-marked face in the reflection of the mirror. My golden-brown hair caresses my shoulder, and I pull it back to get a good look at Simon’s last memory written on my face, a memory full of life. A life he no longer lives.
I don’t cry until I step into the shower, letting my tears fall with the rain. As I hold the velvet box of Simon’s memories in my hands, a ripple of nervousness runs through me . . . What memories did he give me? My hands begin to tremble, and I sit down on the tiled floor, taking the memories of the man who loved me.
Only in the dark of the night does the mysterious calming warmth come to me. I hold on to it and silently weep.
My body buzzes awake from another nightmare. I know in my bones he is here before the pebbles hit my window in a warning. Fear and panic enter my body.
I slip on my blue-black gown and my veil. My armor. Strapping a dagger to my thigh, I will my heart to slow down. I take a moment, I take a breath, then I grab the thick leather blue-black gloves along with the tiny pouch, opening it slightly. This is what we trained for day after day. The steel bar slides across the door softly, and I open it. My Shadow is in the dark, hiding, waiting. I nod to Stallion and he steps forward, pointing down. Then he disappears back into the night.
The rumors were spread, the pieces were put into place, and I knew he would come for me. I just didn’t expect him to wait ten whole months after Simon died. The runes on my hands have started to fade, I’m almost embarrassed by it.
Lighting a lantern, I place it into the hallway window for only a moment. Outside, lanterns light up in the distance. Carefully,slowly, I move through my dark house. I peek around the corner, and fury fills me when I see him sitting at Simon’s desk.
“You knew I would come.” He leans back, his body taking up Simon’s leather chair in the dim light.
“I thought you might.” I set the lantern down, holding on to the tiny pouch with all my might. “Truthfully, I thought you would come sooner, riding up on Artho, pretending to be the Hero of Bethal.” The fucker is also a horse thief. He took Artho after Simon died. “Must be hard to fill your brother’s big shoes.”
He shrugs. “Hardly, and that’s no way to surprise you, besides I had to wait an appropriate amount of time. It would look vulgar if we came together too quickly. Simon was loved.”
“Heisloved.” I correct the future king of Bethal.
