Page 19 of From the Myths of Kings

“After I learned that Eros and Veila had vowed to kill off the remaining tributes, I feared for your life.” His voice came out in a rasp. “I knew they would stop at nothing to fulfill their oaths to the Elders. I could so easily picture you in the sand, blood spilling down your slit throat as the crowd roared. But when I finally found you, I was shocked to find that you were a stranger to me. I know now that Selussa had disguised herself in your flesh, but at that moment, the disgust in your eyes cut deeper than any blade. I take little comfort in knowing your hand was not the one to plunge the blade into my abdomen,” he said darkly. “You did not kill me that day, but your bargain with Selussa etched my death in the stars.”

He lifted his tunic then. Saoirse bit back a gasp as she drank in the exposed skin. The wound was scabbed over, but the skin around the gash was darkened with black spiderwebbed veins that inched across his muscled abdomen like rot on a leaf. Instead of a rusty brown, the wound was deadened with ink black. A chill clawed up her spine.

It was the same color as Selussa’s blood.

“Rook,” Saoirse faltered, at a loss for words. “Rook, I’m so sorry. Has Hasana treated this?”

“She has tried.” He dropped tunic, and the vicious wound was hidden from view. “There is no cure. She has tried poultices and other tinctures. She’s had her Healers look at the wound, too. Not even her magic has staved off the pain.”

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

Rook gave a grim nod.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t go to the Isles of Mythos. Any physical exertion will surely accelerate your condition.” Saoirse ached to reach out to him. Instead, she crossed her arms and started pacing back and forth. What had the Sea Witch done to him? Evidently stabbing Rook and leaving him for dead hadn’t been enough. She’d left her mark on his skin like powdery soot against hearthstones.

“No. I won’t let this wound hold me back. This is my fight too. I will go to the Isles and help Sune and Aurelia to the best of my ability.”

“Wait—” Saoirse began. An idea flickered to life in her mind. “The Forge. Tezrus told me that the Northern Wastes are rich with ancient magic. If the Forge can be used to enchant the Relics, who’s to say it cannot also reverse a curse? What if we can heal you there?”

It was outlandish to be sure. If Hasana’s magic could not cure his injury, it was unlikely any magic—even ancient, mythical magic—could heal him. But they were running out of options and Saoirse was willing to try anything, no matter how improbable. She hadn’t been the one to stab Rook, but she was ultimately responsible for involving him in Selussa’s plot. She would make this right.

Rook’s dark brows lowered thoughtfully. “That is a good idea,” he admitted. “It wouldn’t hurt to try. I’m out of options at this point.”

“Will you be able to endure until then? If everything goes according to plan, we should be joining up at Raj’s Point in a week. From there we will sail toward the Northern Wastes.”

“Yes,” he answered with a dry smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll make it until then. The pain comes and goes, but it doesn’t immobilize me. Hasana has given me a salve that temporarily eases the pain, so I’ll be all right. I can tell that whatever poison Selussa planted is spreading, but thankfully it seems to be moving slowly. I still have autonomy over my wings and I can wield a sword. It will be difficult, but I’ve endured worse.” He paused for a moment, his lips parting as if he was debating adding something else. But whatever he wanted to say was kept locked away in his throat as he turned to face her directly. The full weight of his gaze fell across her like a shadow and warmth pooled in her stomach.

“I won’t mince words, Saoirse. I was furious with you when I first woke up in Bezhad. I didn’t know if I ever wanted to see you again. I was frustrated with myself too. How could I have been so foolish as to fall in love with a stranger? Raven knew I was falling for you right from the start, but I was in denial. I should’ve heeded her warnings.”

His words stung like freezing rain on Saoirse’s cheeks, but she bit her tongue and waited for him to continue.

“At the time, I didn’t understand why you lied to me about bargaining with Selussa. I was hurting. But I’ve had a lot of time to think these past few days. I’ve come to understand that you did it out of a love for your people. Titans know I probably would’ve done the same thing in your position. And some of my pain was attributed to my sister’s betrayal too,” he admitted. “You were the first person I could blame. I realize now that I mistakenly thrust all my frustrations on you. I still felt a strange sense of loyalty toward Eros, Veila, and Raven, even after the last trial. It felt like a betrayal to acknowledge the anger and hurt they caused me. So I lashed out at you and believed the worst about your intentions.”

Saoirse was stunned by the confession. At that moment, she realized how much he had changed since that first evening they met. The man she had sat next to at the Tournament banquet had been arrogant and cocky, fully incapable of admitting his mistakes or taking responsibility. They’d hurled baseless accusations and thoughtless insults at each other like slighted children while they danced together. The Rook she had challenged to a duel that night would never have admitted his wrongdoings. Hel, she supposed she was not the same person she’d been that night either.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is—I’m sorry for blaming you for everything that happened. Yes, your actions freed Selussa from the Fretum and opened the floodgates of her wrath, but Revelore was set on a trajectory of destruction long before that. The secrets my sister kept from me and the oaths she made Eros and Veila swear had nothing to do with you nor your bargain with the Sea Witch. Their inability to see you and our fellow tributes as anything other than soulless enemies is a mindset cultivated by years of greed and hatred. It was inevitable Selussa would release her ire on the world and sink her claws into our fractured land. The disunity amongst our kingdoms allowed her to gain a foothold in the first place. She took advantage of your pain, Saoirse. She used your hatred against you. You are not the enemy; she is.”

Tears pricked in the corner of Saoirse’s eyes. She was on the path toward forgiving herself for what she’d done, but she wasn’t quite there yet. She could feel her heart bleeding with Rook’s earnest words. She wanted to believe him, wanted to accept that this wasn’t entirely her fault.

“You’re right. Selussa is the enemy. Any grudges we might hold against each other will only hinder our ability to defeat her.” She lifted her chin and took in Rook’s beautiful face, gilded by soft lantern light. The tension in her shoulders dissolved somewhat as she looked into his eyes, which were now mercifully free of hatred. The depths of his blue eyes were fathomless in the moonlight, swimming with unspoken words and tangled emotions. An internal storm raged within him. She could sense it in his rigid posture and the corners of his haunted gaze.

Tell me what you’re fighting, she wanted to say. Open up to me like you once did.

She took a step toward him, her heartbeat thrumming against her ribs. She wanted him so desperately that a physical pain burned in her chest. He stretched out a trembling hand, fingertips brushing against her cheek. She shivered under the gentle caress. He leaned toward her, his lips parted. She felt his shallow breath mingle with her own as their lips hovered mere inches apart. She began to close her eyes, a storm of sparks erupting in her stomach when his hand curved over her jaw.

“I—” Rook began, his voice breaking. He slammed his mouth closed. The gentle fingers at her jaw vanished and he leaped backward. He tore his eyes away from her and took a step back as though he’d been burned. “I can’t do this again, Saoirse. I just can’t.” He raked a hand through his hair. His fingers trembled.

“I wish you the best of luck with your journey to Terradrin,” he said flatly. “I know that Neia and Hasana will be great allies to you. You’ll steal the Relic from the Under Kingdom and we’ll be that much closer to defeating Selussa. I’ll see you at Raj’s Point in one week.” With that, Rook gave her a curt nod as though they were merely passing acquaintances and took his leave.

Saoirse looked at her feet, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and regret. Why had she thought they could reconcile after everything that had happened between them? Though his words were sincere and he no longer regarded her with disdain, cold neutrality still lingered between them like a stretch of frozen earth, impenetrable and barren. Perhaps he no longer blamed her for everything, but Rook had every intention of holding her at arm’s length for the foreseeable future. Whatever fragile trust had bloomed between them during the Tournament had been severed. Painful understanding splintered through Saoirse’s heart, sharp and bitter as chips of ice. Rook may have forgiven her, but he wouldn’t allow himself to love her again.

The worst part was that Saoirse could tell he was hurting. Whether it was because of her betrayal, his sister’s, or both, Rook had been irrevocably scarred by the ones he cared for the most. He had shuttered himself away like a sea captain weathering a maelstrom in the bowels of his ship. She didn’t blame him in the slightest, but she hated the helpless feeling that crept over her like a sheen of frost.

After Rook’s retreating form vanished in the night and Saoirse was once again alone, she wandered through the hanging gardens until the swollen moon grew menacing and the shadows that skimmed the leaves sharpened into blades.

9

SAOIRSE

---