Page 33 of Rook of Ruin
The question is intrusive and I still. He saw my memory and my loss. He could have told the advisors and the queen that I’m unchaste, but he didn’t, he hasn’t. Another secret.
“We were two people who cared for each other deeply. He was the only friend I had until Paul and Tess, other than Ralin. We loved each other, but we weren’t soulmates. I was lucky though—my first time was with a friend I cared very much for.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice isn’t condescending; it’s honest and heartfelt.
“Me too. Ryder was a good man. He had great potential.” I softly laugh thinking of him. “He’d wanted to be a warrior since he was nine . . . he died in a training accident.”
I allow myself to lean back slightly, and Alec snakes his arm around my waist. I melt into him as we talk. Alec tells me about his theories on the future of agriculture, I tell him my opinion on baking various pastries, we talk and talk. In the years we’ve spent together, this is the most ardent, continuous conversation. It is easy, flawless. Not simple yes or no questions, but the heartfelt desire to understand the depths of each other. The soft laughter escaping from his mouth prickles my skin. To hear him laugh makes the butterflies in my stomach dance with joy.
“I think I would like to live in a cottage like the ones in Wesson.”
Alec tightens his arm around me. “Would you? Alright, Princess, I—”
“Princess?”
“Everyone calls you O. Would you rather I call you little frog because of your favorite flower?”
“No, call me by my name.”
He whispers in my ear. “Golden princess. That’s what your name means.”
My face feels warm. Not only from his nickname, but also because of how tightly he’s holding me. This might very well be scandalous, but the way he feels is definitely worth it. When we reach the first cottage before the main village, Alec sighs, tightening his grip around my waist before removing his arm from my body; I already miss the closeness.
I point. “That’s where we’re headed. Tess’s parents live in the white-and-blue one to the right.”
“Do you visit often?” he asks, clearly recalling my memories.
“Not as often as I should, but I enjoy them. You’ll see.”
The blue door is well loved and surrounded by ivory on their white brick home. I knock, and someone screams, then a banging and a crash, and another person yells. I smile at Alec, and he raises an eyebrow.
A young girl opens the door. “O!”
“Vera, little love, are your grandparents home?” She throws her arms around me for a big hug, then two young boys jump into my arms, along with a small toddler, who comes stumbling out as well. I try to grab onto him before he goes too far, but Alec hauls him up, causing Dannie to break out into giggles. I look at Alec in surprise. He smiles as the boy grabs a hold of his cheeksand squeals in delight. I never imagined what Alec’s home life could be like; I never asked. What if he has as many nieces and nephews as Tess? What are his parents like? Hells, does anyone really know the Spider?
“O! Come in, please! And who is this handsome devil?” Tess’s mom, Taliah, has flour all over her apron, hands, and bits on her face. She wears her grey hair pinned back from her happy, full face with a gap in her teeth, just like Tess. I adore this woman. “Is this your boyfriend?” She winks at me.
“No, he isn’t!” Oscar, one of the twin boys, yells. He puffs up his little seven-year-old chest. “I’ll fight for her!” He whips out a play sword, daring Alec. “I challenge you to a duel, sir!” He pokes Alec in the chest, who lifts up an eyebrow.
I turn and look at him like,“Please don’t murder Tess’s family.”
He grins.“Who, me?”He bounces Dannie in his arms. “I accept your challenge, good sir. I need a sword and a second!”
“You can use my sword, and I’ll be your second,” Oliver, the other twin, says shyly. They all spill out into the lawn, full of yelling and playfulness. Alec, still easily holding onto Dannie, begins a sword fight, which slowly becomes more of an instruction on the proper technique to hold a sword. I roll my eyes and follow the grey-haired matriarch through the house and into the kitchen.
“Well now, if that isn’t a good man you have,” Taliah teases while pulling out another apron and more flour. She bumps me with her curvy hip. “He is good with children.”
“You know who he is, right?” I say, pouring flour onto the table and using my fingers to make a large well in it.
“The Spider,” she says uncaringly. “It just means that I can trust he’ll look after them.” She cracks two eggs in the middle of my well and adds salt.
I couldn’t be more shocked. “Most people would keep their families and children far away from him.”
She snorts. “Those people are idiots. That man would hurt himself before hurting our littles. He just might need some love”—she gives me a wink—“to tame that tiger into a pussycat.”
I laugh. She has some ovaries calling the Spider a pussycat. I love it. Flour covers the surface of the kitchen and our bodies. After a few moments of comfortable silence, I ask her if there is a bookshop or print store in the village.
“No, love. There hasn’t been since my Gran was a wee lass. The man who owned it moved away long ago.”
