Page 31 of Rook of Ruin
“Where did you get those?” Alec glances at the books. He tips his whiskey back and pours another glass.
“The library.” I hold out my glass for more, and he pours the same amount. We stand next to each other, staring at the books.
I sigh. “The women in the Locker, who were they?”
“Not something you want to involve yourself with.” Alec’s remark is factual, with no emotion in his tone.
“Don’t try to hit me with your logic. I think I’m already involved, and I deserve answers.” I’m annoyed.
“I had to see what you were capable of.” He tilts his head and takes another sip of his whiskey.
I implode. “What I’m capable of? Fuck’s sake, Alec! And you call me reckless? You played with my life and the lives of the rest of the Rooks in the Locker! What if I would have killed more Rooks? Did you ever think about how I might have felt about that? How I felt killing the Rook in the room with us? I would be devastated. Especially if they were innocent. You don’t understand how horrible I felt when I woke up in Paul’s arms. I didn’t know if I had killedyou.” I’m so angry that even if I wanted to calm down I wouldn’t, couldn’t. “No, youass,you didn’t. You just play your little games, get your kicks from getting all these secrets. One day you’re going to have to let someone in, to let them help you. Oh, and by the way, instead of placing blame on me forwelcomingyou into my mind, how about a fucking thank you for not pushing back and making you hurt. Did you ever think that I allowed you in not just because the queen told me to do it, but because I find myself beginning totrustyou? Certainly, I am a fucking fool, because after the time I had with Simon I’m here withyoushouting and miserable. And I’m—I’m just done with whateverthishorseshit is.” I stomp into my bedroom and slam my door.
I start pulling the pins from my hair and dropping them on the floor. I’ll pick them up later. Tossing my coronet onto the bed, and darting into the bathroom to turn on the tub faucet, I drip jasmine oil and soap in to make the water bubble. My jaw lockedfrom my frustration, I finally look in the mirror at my mud-caked dress, my hair a mess, and my tired eyes.
Brown leathers appear in the mirror, and large calloused hands gently pull out the rest of the pins in my hair. We say nothing to each other, anger still pulsing throughout my body. He finishes and then I feel his hands on my dress, softly pulling out the ribbon of the corset on my dress. The tension in this bathroom could shatter me. His hands leave my body, and the coldness is cruel. With a click of the door, I’m alone. I want to yell out in anger, instead I undress and put myself into the tub to sulk.
Two days later, I awake to soft pink ranunculus flowers blooming all around my room. My heart does a pitter patter, and butterflies fill my stomach. When Alec read my mind, I thought of the pink ranunculus flowers with white roses. I love both, that’s thetruth, but he only gave the nobles one answer. He kept one for himself. Our secret. It’s not just the ranunculus flowers; it’s also the small blue leather book titledJovan’s Longing Heartsitting on my nightstand. I open it, and a small paper falls out.
I slide the note back into the book and practically run out of my bedroom, expecting to see Patsy ready with breakfast. She isn’t here, which is unusual.
A knock at my door, and a young petite woman comes in with a tea tray and breakfast. “Oh! My lady, I’m sorry I’m late, I was just notified that I would be attending you today.” A bouncy oversized bonnet hides her hair, and I wonder if I should tell her to take off the ridiculous thing.
I wave my hand, dismissing her apology—there was no need for one. “Where is Patsy?”
The young woman busies herself with the tea. “She was feeling ill and sent word she would not be available to help you today.” As she hands me the cup and saucer, I notice small, half-mooned-shaped scars all over her hands. I catch her eyes—they are hazel like mine, but darker, angrier. She gives me an easy smile.
“Thank you.” I offer for her to sit, but she declines. “What is your name?”
“Nora, my lady.” She sets the tea aside and awkwardly places a plate on my lap. The smell of fresh bacon fills my senses.
“Please send my well wishes to Patsy.”
“Of course.” She gives me a small smile, and the large bonnet on her head starts to flop over. Pursing her bow-shaped lips, she grumbles something while shifting it back, and I quickly bring my teacup up to hide a grin. I watch as she pats it into place and asks, “Do you need aid in dressing?”
“No, thank you, Nora. I can handle it myself. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” I try to give my best disarming Simon smile, and she beams back. “If you could bring in lunch at eleven and maybe a bottle of wine, I would appreciate it. Thank you.” She nods, the bonnet moving slightly forward, and walks out of my room. I hear a curse from her outside of my door, and can’t help but laugh. I pour myself some tea and settle down on the couchto read my new book, but after six chapters, I decide to take a break, switching to the picture books about the fae and nymphs.
At lunch, Nora knocks on my door. Her bonnet flaps as she brings in a cart. I offer her a glass of wine as I pop a briny olive in my mouth, but she turns me down. I ask her all kinds of questions, finding out she was promoted to a lady’s maid only weeks ago, she has a cat named George, and she isn’t married. Nora doesn’t have any family, but similar to me, she has friends she considers family. It’s an easy conversation, and I find myself happily talking about the paintings on my walls and how we both think corsets should be optional in court. I request a late dinner, and she leaves me to my work.
Hours later, my neck begins to hurt, and I get up. I accept it is time to change out of my dressing gown—a cream cable knit sweater over a lacy camisole and a dark green skirt with brown Rook boots are comfortable enough. I fix my hair into a loose braid with a clip made out of solid gold and tiny cream flowers. I’m not going anywhere, so why bother with anything else? I lie in front of the fire, sipping my wine, flipping the pages of the books I found in the library. The artwork is tremendous, almost lifelike. There’s a picture of a handsome fae warrior with dark green eyes dressed in gold armor holding a light. He’s surrounded by three other warriors in gold armor, but their helmets cover their faces. The next picture is of a group of fae fearfully running from a floating figure, almost swallowed in shadows with soft green light in their hands. Squinting, I notice a small print stamp in the book. I jump up and run to my nightstand, pulling out everything to find a magnifying glass. With a triumphant, “Aha!” I quickly return to my book. The small print says Wesson Village. Tess’s family lives there; I could check in on them and ask if they know anything about it.
Grabbing a few coins and the knife Paul gave me, I strap it on my thigh, then remove my brace and place it into my intimatesdrawer. I have permission to leave the castle, but not necessarily to have my brace. Rushing through the hallways, I spot a male valet and ask him to notify either Simon or Alec that I have business to attend to in Wesson. I run to the stables and request the horse that pulled the carriage earlier.
“His name is Artho.” The groom smiles. I give Artho, the good boy, some quick love, and the groom helps me up into the large saddle, which seems large enough to fit more than one person. I’m thankful he didn’t put on a side saddle.
I’m tiny on top of Artho’s giant powerful body. He was made to be a warrior’s horse, not to pull carriages around. “You’re such a handsome boy—a warrior horse.” I lean down and gently rub his neck. He moves his head up and down as if acknowledging my words as truth. “I bet you have all the mares after you.” I smile when he nods again.
Artho and I follow a lady’s carriage through the castle’s main gate and into the hustle and bustle of the town of Marrith. Tall brick buildings with white wash and faux gold accents try to copy the queen’s castle. We turn right and wind our way down through small crowds bartering and trading goods. Further from the main hub, we push past cramped townhouses until they turn into large homes with yards, and then the air becomes a little clearer, fresher. Tess’s family lives outside Marrith’s west gate in Wesson, comfortable and surrounded by a small village and farm land.
A tall, muscular body in brown leathers skulks in the shadows near the iron gate between Marrith and Wesson. I give him a brilliant smile. Alec does not reciprocate. I slightly shift my body, pulling the reins, and Artho stops.
“I have more important things to do today than chasing you down.” He strides over, bringing his bad mood like a black cloud on my sunshiny day.
My face falls, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Then go do it, you ass.” I click my tongue and move Artho.
“Stop, O.” The good boy and I ignore him and continue towards the gate. “Stop, O.” Two guards dressed in their dark blue uniforms slide in front of me. Artho stops on his own.
“Well, I stopped! What do you want!” I yell at him.
