Chapter 15
On my way down to the med wing, my phone pings.
silver: poet, where the fuck are you girl??
silver: where’s trin???
me: i’m here. on my way to see her.
hazel: is she okay??? we heard what happened
silver: ppl are saying she passed out in the hall
silver: is she ok???
me: I think so. they’re taking good care of her.
hazel: can we come?
me: i’ll let u know
silver: keep us posted?
me: ofc
silver: and did I hear the solitude helped??
me: yea, rook carried her to med after she passed out
silver: gorgeous and gallant. what did I tell u
hazel: stop it, or I’ll tell Trin you’re horny for a Solitude while shes in the hospital
silver: she’d understand
I snort out a laugh and round the corner to the medical center to be greeted by a shocking sight.
Rook stands across from the door. At first, he continues staring ahead, a foot pressed to the wall and his arms folded, doing nothing to stop me from objectifying the swell of his shoulders. Or his biceps.
His hair hangs a little in his eyes, slightly messy, like he just rolled out of bed. I wonder what he wears at night and then quickly dismiss that inappropriate thought.
My pace slows as I approach.
He turns his head with a hard look that makes my stomach tighten, heat gathering around my navel. Also inappropriate.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, too high, too sharp, trying to cover up how flustered he makes me. It sounds like another accusation. Fuck, why can’t I speak to him like a normal person?
“They wouldn’t let me in,” he answers. “I wanted to see how she was doing.”
He glares at the door as if he might burn holes through it.
“Who wouldn’t?” I ask.
“Them.” He jerks his chin, and I understand what’s happened. Rook is a Solitude, and though technically he’s allowed to walk these halls, he also isn’t welcome here.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper on a reflexive instinct, earning me another sharp look.
Then I knock on the door and wait. It opens a moment later to reveal Dr. Perez and a second doctor I haven’t met before.
“I’m here to see Trinity,” I say. She nods and steps aside.
I turn to Rook. “Come on, then.”
Dr. Perez blocks his entrance before addressing me.
“He shouldn’t be in here,” she says. “It was an emergency last night, but I don’t want him in my ER.
” A quiver of fear simmers in her eyes, churned up by some old bottomless hurt.
She lost someone to the Solitudes. So many people in this city have been victims of their ruthless violence. I get it.
“He helped my friend,” I say softly. “He’s a student at this school, just like any of us. What if he got hurt? You’d be obligated to help him. It isn’t right to keep him out.”
I can’t believe I’m defending him, but it also doesn’t feel right to deny him access.
Dr. Perez hesitates. I can tell she still wants to refuse, but after a moment, she steps aside.
Rook saunters through the door, peering down at her, towering a good head taller over her slight frame.
He stops and glares, and I note the hardness of the doctor’s swallow.
I resist the urge to sigh and roll my eyes.
I see his side, too. He’s within his rights to be angry about this treatment, but he’s also really not helping his case.
“Stop it,” I tell him, and his dark glare falls on me, pulling up another conflicted flutter in the pit of my stomach. I can’t figure out what to do with my hands, so I clench them, trying not to reveal how much he affects me.
He smirks because I am clearly not a very good actress, then crosses the room to where Trinity lies in her bed.
“Poet,” she says quietly when she spots me.
“Trin!” I gasp, running over and leaning down to gently hug her. She’s all bandaged up and wearing a blue hospital gown. Her hair is tied back into a high ponytail, and dark circles ring her eyes.
“Oof,” she says with a wince.
“Sorry,” I say, releasing her. “I’m so happy you’re awake.”
“Sort of,” she says, touching her head. “Still pretty woozy. They have me on some strong painkillers and all these antibiotics.”
I sink down on the edge of her bed.
“I was so scared,” I say, taking her hand.
Her expression crumples. I know what she’s thinking. Soon enough, she’ll have to face what happened during initiation. She can hide in this room until she’s healed, but she can’t stay here forever.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. Her lips press into a grim line, suggesting she never wants to think about it again. That’s when her gaze falls behind me, landing on Rook.
“Uh? Hi?” Trinity asks, her gaze widening. “How long have I been out?”
“Rook helped carry you when you fainted,” I supply. “He wanted to check that you were okay.”
“Oh,” she says. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” he says before dipping at the waist in a slight bow. “I’m glad to see you’re physically on the mend, at least.”
His gaze pings to me and lingers for a heartbeat before he turns on his heel and walks away. I watch him pass Dr. Perez, who eyes him like he might pounce. He stops and stares at her again—I presume to shake her nerves up a little. Maybe she kind of deserves it.
Then he walks out and disappears.
I frown at the empty doorway before focusing on Trinity, who’s studying me with an inscrutable look I can’t interpret.
Her shoulders relax a little, and she asks, “How was your initiation? I never got the chance to ask.”
I exhale a sharp breath, and then I tell her what I did.
“You tested for Aria?” she says slowly when I’m finished speaking.
“Yes, but I’m fixing it.” I feel like I’ve been saying that an awful lot.
“Why did you do that?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“I couldn’t kill a man,” I answer, a little more sharply than I intend.
Trinity flinches, and I huff out a breath, recognizing the judgment in my outburst. Tests are still ongoing, but I’ve yet to hear of anyone else from Fiama who refused.
Maybe that’s to be expected when most of my House wants to join the Patrol.
Briefly, I wonder if Fiama’s initiation has always been this violent or if this is my father’s doing.
Regardless, Trinity tried.
Even if she lost, she had every intention of killing that man.
That truth sits between us for a moment until she finally asks, “What did your father say?”
“He threatened me, of course, and said the Ardens would ally with the Jenkinses instead if I don’t fix this. My family could lose everything . . .”
Something passes over her expression, there for a moment and then gone before she shakes her head. “I’m proud of you,” she says, and I blink.
“You are?”
“Yes. You made a decision for yourself. I know it wasn’t easy, and people are mad, but you stood up for yourself. I haven’t seen you do that in a really long time.”
I’m too stunned to speak for a moment.
“You really think so?” I finally ask, and she nods. “Everyone hates me, and I thought maybe you also—”
She shakes her head. “No. Don’t do that. Nothing could ever come between us.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, realizing how much I needed to hear those words.
We both fall silent, listening to the soft beep and hiss of the machines.
Trinity bites her bottom lip, rolling it back and forth.
“What will you do for the next test?” she asks carefully.
“I’ll make sure I qualify for Fiama,” I say. “I can’t . . . I can’t do anything else. I promised my father and Knox. Besides, I’ve always known this was my fate.”
Trinity nods. “If you think that’s best.”
“What . . . about . . .” I let the question hang between us.
“What about me?” she finishes. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll get out of this bed and see if I can’t kick the second test’s ass.”
I smile at her. “What an unbeatable pair we make.”
Trinity pulls a wry face as the door opens, and Edward enters. He’s freshly showered, damp hair hanging in his eyes. He walks over to plant a long kiss on Trinity’s forehead.
“How are you?” he asks, and she blinks heavily as her head hits the pillow.
It’s clear she’s starting to fade. While Edward fusses, I ask the doctor to look at the cut I sustained during the tower of fire.
She assures me that it’s healing nicely.
After applying some fresh bandages, she shoos me out, but Edward refuses to budge.
So I say goodbye to give them some space, only to find Rook waiting at the end of the hall.
I hesitate for a moment and then make my way over.
I narrow my eyes, trying not to notice how well he fills out his T-shirt.
“Why are you waiting here?” I ask.
“I’m not waiting. I’m standing.”
“Here? In the middle of the hall?”
He shrugs his wide shoulders and looks around. “The light is good here.”
“For what?”
“Standing?” He raises one brow as if it were obvious.
I huff out an annoyed breath, but he is kind of right.
Sunlight gilds the arch of his pierced brow and the curve of his cheekbone, highlighting the smattering of freckles bridging his nose.
His eyes, which appear green and gold most of the time, reflect with bright flecks of copper. Skies, he’s beautiful.
His head tips as if he’s reading my mind. “Can I help you with something?”
His voice is low, dark, an arrow straight to my chest, sending shivers climbing over my scalp.
“How long are you planning to stand here?” I ask, my tone wobblier than I’d like.
He shrugs again. “For as long as I want.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to get something to eat.”
He pushes himself off the wall so that we’re inches apart, then towers over me as he licks the corner of his mouth. My gaze tracks the movement, zeroing in on it as I catch a breath of his scent. Crisp and fresh. Green grass and apples, I think.
He’s so close, I can feel warmth radiating off him.
“You don’t need to clear your schedule with me, sweetheart,” he says in that voice that works its way into the seams of my shaky equilibrium.
“I wasn’t, I—” I sputter, then cut myself off. “I know that.”
“Then enjoy your lunch,” he says.
“Enjoy your . . . standing.”
“Will do.”
I hate that I’m such a messy tangle while he remains entirely unaffected.
By me. By anything at all.
So the only thing I can do is glare before I walk away. I refuse to let him see how much he rattles me.
When he starts whistling, I peer over my shoulder to find him casually leaning against the wall with his arms folded while he stares up at seemingly nothing.
I take one last look and then force myself to turn away.
It’s only a moment later that I realize I’m smiling.
Why does that scare me so much?