Page 26 of King Among the Dead

“Why?” Rose asked, though she already knew.

Kay turned toward her, wry smirk twisting her lips. “Don’t play stupid, honey. It’s not a good look on anyone.”

Rose sipped more tea. She’d known from the first what Beck was. She’d learned that he loved to read, that he craved knowledge, some of it obscure and useless, but infinitely pleasing to him. That he liked to cook and was good at it. That he could walk into Steinman’s and buy an obscene amount of everything with his black credit card. Had learned that his laughter started somewhere in his chest, but faded on the way up, only the softest, breathiest little chuckles by the time they left his lips.

She’d learned that she loved him fiercely.

That he liked – no,needed– a smoke and a drinkafter.

After he went killing.

Beck was a killer.

She’d known it all along, from the first moment, when he’d killed Tabitha and pulled her out of the pie safe. An un-addressed truth that she never examined too closely.

She examined it now; dragged it out into the light and cradled it in her palms, the way she’d cradled his wound, his blood pulsing against her fingers. That night in the library, the feral gleam in his eyes – the dark smudges on his hands had been blood. Because he’d just killed someone. Or several someones.

“No,” she said, slowly, “I meant: why Castor’s people specifically?”

The question earned her an eyebrow jump of surprise. “Hmm. I think I’ll let him tell you that later. They’re his reasons; he should be the one to share them.”

Rose nodded. “Fair enough.”

Kay snorted, mouth tugging in a sideways grin. “You’re full of surprises tonight, huh?”

Rose didn’t know how to answer, so she didn’t. Turned instead to watch over Beck again.

His head had rolled toward them, and a notch had formed between his furrowed brows. His lips moved on a low murmur too garbled and soft to make out.

“He won’t be good and awake for a while,” Kay said. “But he tends to fight the sedation on his way back to the surface.”

“This has happened before?”

“Me patching him up? Yeah, a few times. More than I’d like. Never had to put a whole hand inside his stomach before, but, hey, nothing I haven’t seen in the past.”

“Were you a doctor?”

“Close enough.”

Beck’s hand twitched on top of the blankets, opening and closing. “…can’t…” he murmured on a deep exhale, and then a quiet sound of pain.

Rose set her empty mug on the floor and got to her feet. Everything hurt, and fatigue dragged at her, but she didn’t hurt like Beck did; wasn’t as tired as he must be.

“Can he hear us if we talk to him?” she asked, crossing to the makeshift bed. Up close, she could see a fine glazing of sweat on his brow, and she smoothed it away with her sleeve without thinking. He chased the touch, turning his head to follow the movement. She lay the backs of her fingers against his cheek. He still felt colder than he should.

“Probably. Sometimes he tells me he remembers the songs I sing when I putter around his sickbed. But I think it’s fuzzy. Nothing distinct, you know.”

She found that to be a relief: he wouldn’t know how badly she trembled, how broken-up and needy she must look, as she laid her palm on his forehead, smoothed his hair back. Gentle strokes, like petting a cat, marveling at the silky-softness of his hair. She’d never touched it before, but she’d dreamed of it sliding through her fingers.

Not like this, though. Never like this, with him unconscious, and wounded, and his skin already beading with the sweat of fever.

“Please get better,” she whispered. “Please don’t go.”

His eyelids fluttered, dry lips parting again. She swore he looked at her – that hesawher, eyes bright with recognition – but then they fluttered closed and he slipped back beneath the surface once more.

She heard Kay stand up behind her with a groan, and shuffle up to stand beside her. But Rose didn’t stop petting his hair; smoothed a thumb along one graceful eyebrow. She wasn’t going to shrink back beneath anyone’s scrutiny, not even Kay’s, not even if she disapproved.

But Kay only sighed. “I guess it’s no use telling you to go to bed.”

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