Chapter 48
My eyes blink open, red haze bleeding across my vision. Someone jostles me, and I groan. Then a pair of arms lifts me up.
With a whimper, I let my head fall against someone’s chest.
I know that scent.
Fresh breezes and warm sunshine. Green apples.
I slip in and out of consciousness as I feel him carrying me upstairs, followed by the steady cadence of a long hall. I recognize the sterile smell of the med wing and hear the hiss of the door as it slides open before I’m carefully laid on a bed.
Shadows move in the periphery of my vision. Hands touch me. Someone rips off my coat, my shirt. My arm throbs with its own heart.
A hand circles my wrist, and a ribbon of fire licks up to my elbow.
I moan. I gasp.
Then darkness takes me again.
. . .
When I wake up, dim light is backdropped by the low sounds of beeps and whirs of medical equipment. I groan and touch my head with a wince.
On my other wrist is a thick bandage. I lift it up and blink, trying to remember everything that happened. They shoved me down the stairs. They told me to leave, ripped Teddy apart, and then tried to kill me . . .
A movement catches my eye, and I look over to see Rook sitting on the floor, leaning against another bed. He’s peering up at me with his wrists draped over his knees. I have to blink several more times to make sense of what I’m seeing.
The pieces of Teddy lie between his feet, and he holds a needle and thread dangling in one of his large hands. He’s already reattached one of Teddy’s arms and closed a rip in his back.
“You’re sewing him back up?” I whisper before instantly breaking into sobs.
My tears surface, flowing freely as I curl into a ball and cry hard enough to turn my rib cage inside out. Suddenly, Rook is there, his arms wrapping around me as he settles onto the bed, and I cry into his chest.
I cling to his shirt, and I just . . . let go. My throat is sore, and my lungs ache, but I can’t seem to make the tears stop. Distantly, I become aware of Dr. Perez in the room, but she keeps her distance while Rook holds me without a word.
Eventually, I succumb to a set of quiet sniffles and hiccups. I pull away to notice the dark stain on Rook’s shirt.
“Sorry,” I say, and he huffs out a small laugh.
“It’s okay,” he answers in a gentle way that nearly has me on the verge of crying again.
I try to smooth away the stain as if that will do anything, but after a moment, it seems more like I’m feeling him up. Mortified, I snatch my hand away, and he laughs.
It’s a genuine laugh. Bright and clear.
Not couched in derision or sarcasm. I like that sound. I like it way too much.
My fingertips remember his touch, burning like I’ve held them to a candle.
The moment ends, but I catch that single moment of joy in his eyes, and it flips my whole world around.
He’s always beautiful, but this is something else.
Dr. Perez appears before me. “How are you feeling?” she asks as Rook detangles himself from my hold, clearing his throat as if embarrassed to be caught in this show of tenderness.
The doctor checks the bump on my head and offers me a few more painkillers for my throbbing wrist. Rook returns to his spot on the floor, resuming his work piecing Teddy back together. I watch in fascination as he nimbly threads the needle and reattaches the bear’s leg with neat, even stitches
“Your X-ray shows a bad sprain. Should take about a week or two to heal,” she says before her gaze slides to me with a look I can’t fully interpret. “You’ve broken your arm before, though? In a few places?”
She says it carefully, like she’s trying to piece something together.
I sense Rook look up, watching our exchange.
Suddenly, I’m self-conscious.
My father. Can she tell what he’s done?
“I can see a number of old fractures,” she says, perhaps sensing my question, her voice turning to a whisper.
I shake my head. “Right. I’m sort of clumsy.”
She meets my eyes. “Should I report this?”
Her question could be about two things.
Technically, the school should punish my attackers, but I can’t complain to anyone about this. Scion Beaufort gave the go-ahead to anyone wishing to take matters into their own hands, and Fiama won’t do anything to protect me.
As for the other thing, no one will stop my father from doing what he wants.
“No,” I say.
She presses her mouth together, clearly displeased with my answer. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” I say. “Please just leave it alone.”
A pause. “Then you’re free to go,” she says, though she obviously isn’t happy about it. “See me in a few days so I can check on how things are progressing.”
“Thank you,” I say, sitting up with a wince. She walks away, and I take a moment to settle my nerves. Slowly, I place my feet on the floor and stare between them before looking up.
“You carried me here,” I say to Rook.
He nods as he pushes the needle through Teddy’s fur and pulls it out the other side.
“Thank you.”
He says nothing as he deftly knots the string, using his teeth to cut the remaining thread.
Then he tests his handiwork, tugging on Teddy’s limbs before he presents me with the repaired toy.
Teddy’s left arm is a little shorter, and a line of stitches curves up his belly like he’s had his appendix removed.
But he’s whole.
“And you fixed him,” I whisper as Rook stands up. I crush Teddy to my chest and smell his head, inhaling the scent of my childhood and simpler times.
“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”
It’s obvious Dr. Perez still doesn’t like or trust him, but she doesn’t object as he takes my arm and leads me out of the med wing. “I can’t go back to my room,” I say. “They’ll . . . I don’t know what they’ll do, but I can’t sleep there anymore.”
“I’m taking you to mine,” he answers as my brows pinch together.
He shrugs. “I found an empty room downstairs. I hated sleeping near them, and I have three extra beds. You’re welcome to one.”
I open my mouth, weighing his proposal. “Well, you hardly ever talk,” I say with no small amount of wonder. “So that sounds amazing.”
He snorts a small laugh and shakes his head. “I wasn’t complaining about the space.”
“Do you live up to your name, Rook Athira? Do you prefer solitude?”
He seems to consider that and then answers, “It depends on the company, I guess.”
A beat passes. “Fair enough.”
We continue walking toward Aria’s wing, and instead of taking the stairs up, we head for a different set.
Rook holds out his hand, and I hesitate before slipping my fingers into his.
They’re warm and dry and close around mine, inexplicably offering a safety net.
He guides me down the winding steps while I clutch Teddy under my injured arm.
We reach the bottom, and he opens the door to reveal a cozy dorm room, much like the one I just vacated, with a stone floor covered in plush rugs.
“I had no idea there were more rooms down here,” I say. Soft evening light filters in through round windows set high into the walls. He even has a fireplace where a few glowing embers smolder in a pile of ash.
“It was a bit dusty,” he says. “But I got it cleaned up, and no one has objected to me using it. I think they’re just as happy to not have me near them.”
He’s claimed the bed in the far corner, and suddenly, I wonder if this is such a good idea.
I can’t sleep in some strange guy’s room. What will people say—
I stop, cutting off that pointless thought.
“If you’re worried, I promise you’re safe with me,” he says. “And what else can they possibly say about you at this point?”
I huff out a sound that’s part laugh because not only is he reading my mind, he’s absolutely right.
I think about how he defended me against Knox without hesitation, and I believe him when he says I have nothing to fear from his presence.
Maybe these painkillers are addling my brain, or maybe I’ve just been through a lot this week, but Rook Athira, the Solitude from the Wastes, a group I was taught to fear my entire life, is the one person in this whole school who I’m certain won’t try to hurt me.
I point to the bed in the opposite corner. “Maybe I’ll take this one? I’d like to be close to the fire.”
“Good choice,” he answers.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and test the mattress, already made up with fresh sheets.
“I can go grab your stuff for you,” he adds.
I should refuse. He’s already done so much, but I don’t think I can face anyone else right now.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not afraid of them, Trouble,” he says, but there’s no hint of mocking in the nickname. I almost wonder if I detect a thread of affection, but that’s silly.
“Thanks,” I whisper, still clutching Teddy. “I . . . You’re being nicer to me than I deserve.”
I chew on my bottom lip as I watch him fold up a T-shirt and stuff it into a drawer.
“You probably deserve more than you think you do,” he says softly before he exhales and runs a hand down his face. I have no idea what’s eating at him, but his words twist me up, so I brush past them because I have no idea how to respond.
“Who taught you how to sew him back together?” I ask.
He shrugs as his cheeks turn the barest shade of pink. “We have to patch up a lot of our clothing,” he says. “You learn to sew at a young age out in the Wastes.”
“I would have no idea how to do that.”
He walks over, dropping into a crouch. “I’ll be right back. You lie down and take more of the painkillers the doctor gave you.”
He pulls my shoes off and eases me back onto the bed. We’re eye to eye, and it looks like he wants to say something else, but then he gives his head a little shake and stands up.
Without another word, he strides out of the room. I watch the door close behind him and turn to study my surroundings. It’s much quieter than the upper-level dorms. Peaceful.
Rook probably liked it down here alone, and now I’ve intruded on his silence. I recall what he said about enjoying the right company, and I know I shouldn’t wonder or hope that I’m included in that list.