Chapter Fifty-Six. Rory
Rory
Rory wove between the people crowding the pub, trying not to spill the tray of shots he was holding.
Dodging an elbow, he placed the tray on the table and levered himself down, groaning.
His legs felt like jelly, and he was so bruised and windblown that even his jaw hurt, though mostly from smiling too much.
Across the table, Hanna whispered something to her boyfriend—Gavin?
Gareth?—her hand resting on his thigh. Rory caught her eye from across the table.
Something flashed in them, there and gone before he could tell what it was. He looked away.
“Oh, the sweet shots of victory.” Elliott rubbed his hands together. “Twice as sweet, twice as cherished, twice—”
Maggie leaned over her twin, jostling him back as she picked up a shot glass. “Yes, yes. Victory. Sweet. We got it.”
Rory chuckled and picked up his own shot glass. “Hey.” He nudged Elliott. “Did I tell you that someone called me ‘the Blodeuwedd guy’ today? Like it’s a thing?”
“Really?” Elliott snickered. “Who—”
“You’re the Blodeuwedd guy?” Hanna’s boyfriend, who had been following their banter silently, suddenly asked.
The shot Rory was downing went down the wrong pipe, and he sputtered and coughed. Elliott’s snicker turned into a full-blown laugh.
“Did I become a campus bogeyman without my knowledge?” Rory asked when he had air again, gingerly placing the shot glass, still half full, on the table.
“Pretty much,” the guy answered with a rueful smile. “Our very own Loch Ness Monster.”
“Flattering,” Rory said.
“Indeed,” Gavin? Gilliam? Whatever-his-name-was said. “You became a legend. A kid who came to the university out of nowhere to continue his study, instead of the other way around. I always wondered—what made you study that field?”
“Roan, Rory is dating a Blodeuwedd,” Hanna supplied with a hard smile before Rory could answer. Roan? Really? Rory thought. I wasn’t even close.
Roan’s mouth tightened in distaste that verged on horror. “That’s why you were doing the research? To build yourself a girlfriend?”
“What? No!” Mortified heat was flooding into Rory’s cheeks.
“They grew up together,” Maggie intervened before Rory could say more. “Best friends since they were eight.”
“Oh, thank God,” Roan exhaled. A round of uncomfortable chuckles rose around the table like ripples. Rory, too, exhaled, only realizing how much he’d tensed when he felt his body loosen. He turned to Elliott, but before he could say anything, Roan’s voice intruded again, gratingly loud.
“But still …” Roan made a vaguely regretful gesture. “Sorry for asking, but … dating a Blodeuwedd? How can you date someone who can’t say no?”
Rory fought to keep his tone light. “Oh, Daye can say no all right.”
“If you say so, mate.” Roan sounded skeptical.
“Why would you say she’s unable to say no?” Maggie asked, her tone conveying just how outlandish she thought this notion was. Beside her, Noah’s eyebrows drew together.
“Well,” Roan said. “As far as I know, constructs are always bound by the words of their maker. They have no choice but to do what they’re told.
I guess you’ve researched this longer than any of us,” he said to Rory.
“But I’ve been studying construction for four years now, and I never saw anything that indicated that any type of construct has any say in the matter. Mixing intimacy with that …”
Maggie and Hanna looked back and forth between Rory and Roan; Maggie concerned, Hanna with something that looked a lot like righteous vindication.
Rory’s hand clutched his beer glass just a little bit harder. “Maybe regular constructs,” he said in his firmest voice, “though I have my doubts about that, too. But someone like Daye? Trust me, she’s been my best friend since we were eight, and she has no problem ignoring what I tell her.”
“Like I said, as our resident legend, you probably know best,” Roan said placatingly, hands in the air. “I’m heading to the bar. Anyone want more beer? No? Okay. Be back in a second.”
Relieved, Rory blew out a quiet breath as he watched Roan go.
“So—” Elliott turned to Rory, but Hanna cut him off before he could say more than one word.
“Roan’s right, you know.” She jabbed her thumb in the direction of her boyfriend’s retreating back.
“I did some reading on Blodeuwedds last year, after learning about the obedience clause in construction theory, and I never found anything to indicate that Blodeuwedds are any different from other constructs. Quite the opposite, really.” She leaned forward, like she was about to share a secret.
“That’s why they’re considered so effective, you see?
Because even if they look like a person, they have to do what they’re told.
” Her eyes never left Rory’s as she added, “I always wondered how you never once mentioned it, in all the conversations we had about Blodeuwedds back then. Or did you somehow never come across any reference to it, despite all that research you did?”
Rory could feel his eyes widening. His pulse thudded loud in his ears. He tried to take a sip from his beer, but at some point his hands had started shaking, making the foam slosh over his fingers. He put the glass back down.
“Hanna,” Maggie chided softly, but there was a small line between her eyebrows that Rory didn’t quite know how to interpret.
“It’s time someone said something about it instead of tiptoeing around the subject.
We all know it’s wrong.” She looked directly into Rory’s wide eyes, enunciating each word carefully.
“We all know that the only difference between Daye and a pet is that Rory fucks Daye. And that a pet can run away if it wants to.”
Rory flinched. The sounds of the pub around him seemed both louder and more muffled at the same time.
“Hanna!” Maggie exclaimed, scandalized. “What the fuck?” Her voice, too, seemed to come from afar, much farther away than the other side of the table.
“That’s not fair, and you know it,” Elliott added, his elbow jostling Rory as he leaned forward. “This is Rory we’re talking about. You of all people know how hard he’s worked to make her as independent as possible.”
Hanna continued as if she hadn’t heard them.
“You keep saying you’re doing this all for her,” she said, her hands braced on the table in front of her.
“But where is she? Tucked back in the countryside, waiting for you in an empty house? Why isn’t she here in the city with you?
How come we’ve never seen her, not even once in all these years?
Where are her friends? From what you told us, she has you, and that’s it.
And you’re with her, what? Four days a month?
Five? That sounds like a pet to me, and not a very well-treated one. ”
Rory couldn’t seem to draw a full breath.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Maggie slapped her hands on the table and got up. “Hanna, a word. Now.”
“What, Rory can’t answer himself?” Hanna’s voice was honey-sweet, her eyes locked with Rory’s. Rory couldn’t look away, could barely blink.
“He doesn’t need to,” Maggie said before Rory could answer. “That was brutal, Han. I don’t care how drunk you are and what happened between the two of you years ago, there’s some stuff you just don’t say.” She reached out and caught Hanna’s elbow.
“Like you never thought so,” Hanna sneered. “And his whole wide-eyed hero act is getting on my last nerve. How many years can you do the same trick before it gets old? It’s been years with the same song and dance—”
“Out. Now. You and I are going for a walk,” Maggie said, dragging Hanna away.
Rory, Elliott, and Noah sat blinking in their wake.
The silence between them was suffocating.
Rory kept thinking he heard the words pet and fuck in the conversations around them and felt like flinching every time.
Did everyone in the pub hear? Was everyone talking about him, or were these innocent conversations with innocent hooks that tugged on his skin?
“You okay?” Noah asked, finally. “That was …” He trailed off, a pained expression on his face.
“Yeah,” Rory said. His hand was white-knuckled on his beer glass. The liquid in the cup kept rippling.
“You know we don’t think anything like that, right?” Elliott added. “We know it isn’t like that between you and Daye.”
“Yeah,” Rory echoed again. But did he, really? Noah’s expression had an uneasy edge to it, like he wasn’t quite sure what he knew.
“I reckon this wasn’t at all about Daye and a lot about what happened or didn’t happen between the two of you,” Elliott added.
“Yeah,” Rory said, again. Like a broken machine.
“What do you say about another round?” Elliott said, voice consoling.
“I could use another beer after … that.” Noah’s voice was strained.
“Yeah,” Rory said, a fourth time.
But the minute Elliott and Noah headed for the bar, Rory placed a few bills on the table, picked up his coat, and left.