Page 18 of The Rook

“I’m a Hound. An assassin. A warrior.”

She’d eat her hat before she was going to play dress-up for anyone, let alone her enemy. She and Pyre may well have had a common goal, but that didn’t mean they were on the same side. She’d be mistaken in thinking they were true allies. At the end of the day, they were enemies down to their very core.

And war was coming.

She eyed the empty tub at the rear of the room. It would have been nice to bathe before she left, but it wouldn’t be practical. Traveling was a dirty venture. No need to waste more time. She clasped her cloak around her throat and tossed her knapsack over her shoulder. Time to go.

Her steps were steady as she exited the barracks, intent on heading to the city gates and procuring a horse. She paused as Madrid pushed from the side of the barracks and into her path.

Her heart leapt. How long had he been standing there? Did he know she was a traitor? Oh god, she was going to die. Sheswallowed and forced herself to remain calm. If he had proof, she’d already be in chains.

Tempest approached him, her gait even, as her heart galloped. She paused before him and waited for him to say something.

He didn’t. How typical of Madrid.

He merely nodded at Tempest and indicated for her to follow him, then proceeded to wind through the city.

The silence between them stretched on for what felt like forever. Her nerves were now somewhat calmed, but she kept a close eye on the street. The Hounds were trained to be invisible. If they wanted, they could haul her off the street without anyone noticing. It used to comfort her. She felt safe and protected. Now, it only brewed unease.

That’s what happens when you betray your kingdom and family.

She sucked in a sharp breath and ignored Madrid as he eyed her. They neared the tunnel parallel to the merchant docks—an exit out of Dotae reserved only for those with special permission from the king. One moment, she could hear the waves crashing against the jetties. The next, Tempest dutifully followed Madrid into the darkness of the tunnel, which swallowed all sounds but the echoes of their boots on the stone. Was this how she died? Her fingers moved to the daggers at her hips. She couldn’t fight off Madrid, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. If this was the end, she’d die as a warrior.

Nothing happened.

Her nerves were frayed and raw by the time they stopped a little way outside of the city walls. Madrid turned to face her, his expression as implacable as ever. It was as if the man had no feelings. She eyed the nearby forest. Had they set up an ambush for her away from the city?

You’re becoming a paranoid freak.

He rolled his neck and then focused back on her. “Remember your training, Tempest. Don’t be rash. Serve your kingdom well.”

She nodded.

He opened his mouth and then closed it, an emotion flashing through his eyes too quickly for her to decipher. She blinked. That was odd. What was bothering Madrid?

He nodded and then spun on his heel, the black tunnel swallowing his retreating form. She stared over her shoulder. What had that been about? She slowly turned around and looked forward. Time to march into the proverbial lion’s den of the rebels.

When you dance with the devil, you risk becoming the devil yourself…

If dealing with the Jester directly—if only playing along with his game—was the cost Tempest had to pay in order to figure out what in the blazes was happening to her kingdom, then Tempest would gladly sell her soul.

She could only hope it would never come to that.

TEN

Tempest

Tempest shouldered her pack and skirted the edge of the forest which tapered off onto a white, sandy beach. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the salty sea and the crashing of waves against the shore. The icy wind whipped her cloak around her boots as she picked her way along the shoreline. It would have been easier to cut through the trees, but she needed a moment to collect her thoughts, and she wanted to avoid any of the little villages that ran along the outskirts of the woods. Who knew what was lurking nearby. And Tempest, herself, was hardly inconspicuous.

Black clouds loomed in the distance, hovering above the sea like buzzards over a carcass. A burst of wind slammed into her, yanking her hood from her head. That was her cue to leave. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the coastline when the storm hit. Winter storms were the worst. Every year, the storms sankships, ripped trees from the earth, and destroyed parts of the port.

Tempest turned east and moved through the trees, their boughs waving high above her in a pagan dance. Her tread was soft on the bed of pine needles beneath her boots. The woods thickened, and she pulled her hood over her hair, eyes continuously scanning the forest. All seemed calm, but that was the trick. The deeper one wandered into the woods, the more danger one encountered. She shivered as she remembered previously fleeing in the darkness and plunging into the pit. This time, she had to be more careful.

Time passed, and Tempest moved on, ghosting through the forest. Hours passed, and sweat dampened her temples, despite the frigid temperature. Tempest huffed out, irritated. The blighted kitsune had told her to meet him in the woods, but he hadn’t said where. Her belly growled when early afternoon hit, and Pyre was still nowhere to be seen. She pulled some dried meat from her sack and gnawed on it. Where was he? Why would he insist she meet him if he didn’t intend on showing up?

Tempest sat down on a moss-covered rock with a disgruntled sigh.

More games.

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