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“Will you keep your fucking voice down?” His hands squeezed gently. “I’m risking my life to come and apologize to you, alright?” His hands slid on my skin, and he drew back a little. “You’re all sweaty, are you sick?”
“No, I was having another fucking dream about you.”
He winced. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Fuck off.” I shoved him away. “You’re lucky I’m not tossing you out of this tower right now, you fucking ghoul.”
“I told you, I had no choice.” His voice was almost breaking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because he had to keep quiet or if it was because of pure emotion. “You think I enjoy killing old defenseless women who’ve been half beaten to death? You think I can sleep at night knowing I did that?”
“I don’t care how you sleep, you fucking murderer,” I hit back, unable to stop myself hammering my fist into his chest. I sucked in a heavy breath as I looked up at him. “How can you do this? How can you kill like this, for him?”
“I told you, I don’t have a fucking choice.” He leaned over me, backing me against the window frame. “I’m his slave, and he tells me what to do. And if your fucking Father hadn’t betrayed my people I wouldn’t be here, so blame him.”
I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”
“The Fae abandoned my people during the Uprising,” he replied, his features becoming ever sharper as my eyes adjusted to the half-darkness. “They knew the Velesians would call in a debt of the Heirs, and your father decided to betray us rather than risk you.” His lips pulled back in a sneer. “Not that it did you a lot of good I suppose, you ended up here anyway.”
“That’s why you hated me?That’swhy you wanted to kill me? Because of what my father did?”
“I losteverything.” The last word was seared with pain as it emerged from his gritted teeth. His hand balled into a fist against the wall beside me. He lowered his head a little, and took a deep breath. “I lost everything.” He said again, quieter this time, his voice heavy with defeat. “Who was she?”
I scoffed. “What do you care?”
His jaw feathered violently, his eyes glowing as he glared at me. “Who. Was. She?”
“You cut her fucking head off and now you want to know who she was? What does that change?”
He lunged at me, caging me in with his arms. “Because it lets me hold on to some tiny fucking shred of who I used to be. Not the fucking thug he’s made me. Not the monster you see when you look at me now.” His head dropped a little. “Please, just tell me who she was.”
“My nursemaid,” I replied slowly. “She looked after me when I was a child.”
Rook nodded, stepping away from me to lean on the window sill. “She didn’t deserve to die like that. And I need you to understand that… I have no choice. No matter what you might think of me, no matter…” He looked at me mournfully. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t bring her back.”
Rook flinched. “You honestly think I’d do something like that of my own free will?”
“How should I fucking know!” I caught myself, and we fell silent, listening for any hint of Drusilla, any sign that the guards had heard me. We both finally exhaled, and I looked back at him. “All I saw in that moment was you, threatening to kill me. Your anger and your hatred.”
“It wasn’t like that, I swear to you. Iswearit. Please tell me you believe me.”
I couldn’t ignore the pain in his voice, and I knew he meant it. “I believe you.”
“I’m a killer, his own personal thug, and I have to live with that.” He gave me a sideways glance as I moved to stand beside him at the window. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’m so fucking sorry, Elara.”
I took in his profile in the moonlight, the pain etched on his face obvious even in the half-light of the moon. After a while I reached out, and for a reason I couldn’t quite explain, I placed my hand over his. He hissed in a breath when I touched him, but didn’t move away. “Are you alright?” I asked softly.
He laughed bitterly. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Are you alright?”
He rubbed his other hand over his mouth, shifting on his feet but not moving his hand out from under mine. “No. No, I’m not alright. I wasn’t always like this. But this is what he’s made me. I hate myself for it.”
Without thinking I leaned my head against his arm, clasping his hand even tighter, my fingers entwining with his. “I’m sorry, Rook.”
“It’s not your fault.” He huffed out a breath. “I know that now. It’s not your fault. You’re as much a victim of your father’s weakness as I am.”
I didn’t know how to answer that, because Rook still didn’t know the truth. I bit it back, and simply stayed like that, with my head against him. We stood in silence, looking out over the gardens of the prison that held us both as the stars twinkled overhead.
