Chapter 13 Rorin
Rorin
“Why do I bother?”
I slump down the clammy wall across from the man I’ve been questioning.
He’s whimpering over in the corner, his body looking more withered in the dim light than it had in the bar.
We’ve only got one decent answer out of him, and that was that he’d seen Ezra and heard whispers of what he was looking for.
He quickly figured out that, if I didn’t get the answer I wanted, he likely wouldn’t survive our interaction, and when I started to lose control, Bennett took over.
He’s been negotiating now for the past half hour while I mull over what to do next – how I want to proceed. I can feel that I’m close… just not close enough, and if we aren’t careful, she’s going to slip through the cracks again.
I scratch at the scarred rune on my wrist, my nail tracing the interwoven pattern, and begrudgingly push myself off the floor, stalking over to where Bennett and… whatever his name is are having their conversation.
Hearing my steps, they both glance upwards to look at me, the man’s eyes quickly darting away. Bennett pushes up from his crouched position, sighing, “Rorin, he's just a man.” He pacifies, a palm cupping my shoulder.
“They’re all just men, Bennett.” I snap.
“Oh-kay. Rorin, he’s just an innocent man.
You asked him what he knew, and he told you what he knew; now let the man go.
” When I don’t give him my immediate compliance, he leans into my ear and whispers, “you are not accomplishing what you think you are by lashing out this way. You are not this person, Rorin.”
I can’t help but scoff, leaning away from him. “Clearly I am,” a saccharine smile plays at my lips as the anger inside me rises again, my Wield rising with it, “looks like I inherited something from my mother and father after all. They would be so proud.”
The words land bitterly, and Bennett drags a hand down his face. “Eveera wouldn’t want this.” My breath hitches, and I pinch my eyes shut. “She won’t forgive you for risking yourself on her behalf.”
“I’m not risking–”
“Yes, you are. You’re damning yourself with each innocent life you take.”
A pained and rueful laugh escapes me, the harsh sound bouncing off the walls. “I am damned without her anyway.” I take a step forward, and Bennett wraps a coarse hand around my bicep.
“We will find her, Rorin. We will bring home Obsidian’s queen–”
I wrench free of his grip, my lip curling.
“WE CAN’T FIND HER IF NOBODY HAS FUCKING SEEN HER, BENNETT!
SHE’S A GHOST IN THE BLEEDING FUCKING WIND.
” I shout, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I catch my breath.
Bennett looks like I’ve struck him, clearing his throat and trying to recover his stunned expression.
My head hangs forward, looking down at the shriveled man, “get him out of here, Ben.”
“Wha–what?”
“Get him out of here. Before I change my mind.”
I spent that night and the subsequent nights that followed out in the hallway, not feeling up to talking with anyone. Interrogations were disappointing and exhausting, often ending with me storming out to keep my new promise of being subtle.
Each person we speak to says the same two things: “I’ve seen him erratic in a few taverns and popular brothels,” or “there has been an unusual man lurking after dark in the bazaars, arguing with shopkeepers as they close up.”
It’s been almost a week, and I’m no closer to bringing her home. No closer to making her safe.
Gods, please be safe, Nightmare. I plead out into the empty night air.
I figured out on the second night here that there was a rusted window at the end of the hall, and if I pushed and pried hard enough, I could get it open. There’s a wide enough ledge outside of it for me to sit on and take refuge.
The warm air coasts across my skin, and I tuck my chin on top of my knees, watching the busy night below me die down.
CREAAKKK!
“Ah! Shit!”
The metal roof shakes, and from my peripheral vision, I see Millie seat herself next to me. She pulls her knees up to match mine, her green eyes and loose golden blonde hair gleam in the moonlight, but her usual soft expression is stern. “She’s going to be different.”
“I know.”
Her head tilts, and she locks onto my profile, “she’s going to be different.” She repeats.
“I know–”
“She’s going to be different,” Millie says a third time, her voice becoming more insistent.
I meet her gaze and see that both of her cheeks are wet and her eyes puffy. “Mill…” A choked sob comes out, and she buries her face into her knees, muffling the sound. I rest my hand on the back of her head, pulling her shaking body into me.
A few beats later, her head lifts back up, and she roughly wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. “You know, I can’t get his face out of my head.”
“Who’s?” I ask, tearing off a piece of my shirt for her to blow her nose in. She takes it gingerly, offering me a small smile.
“Orem’s.” She says horsely. My stomach dips at the mention of Eveera’s fallen man.
Poor kid was only twenty years old, and now he’s just another one of the many dead at the hands of my father and Baelor.
“He practically tossed himself onto that sword. Huh… Max’s face when he realized…
I threw up the deflection as quickly as I could, but I was so tired… ”
“Millie. It’s not your fault.”
She bobs her head up and down violently, her lip catching between her teeth as she swallows down another sob.
“I know that. But still, I can’t stop seeing his face.
Especially after…” her voice dies down, and her lips clamp shut.
After Eveera brought him back. I finish for her inside my mind.
She takes a deep breath, before turning her face to me again, “so that’s why I say – she’s going to be different. ”
The words sting even worse the fourth time she says them. “How is Maxwell?” I ask, carefully trying to divert the conversation away from Eveera.
“As good as he can be.” The answer is simple and curt, her face growing pensive.
“What does that mean, exactly?”
Millie leans back onto her hands, resting her head on my shoulder, “when we find her, give her one day at a time. It’s all they can manage.”
One day at a time.
After Millie and my conversation on the roof, I felt more awake than ever. Once her soft snores started, I scooped her up and carried her back inside, where Max was up and waiting for her. He took her off my hands when I walked in the room, giving me a quiet thanks.
On my way out, I catch myself on the doorjamb and turn around to see him brushing a strand of hair off her face.
“Max?” He hums in response, not turning away from Millicent. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Max’s hand freezes at the question, and he blows out a long breath, “yeah. You and your men can quit bitching at each other, all the damn time.”
“Noted.” I slap my palm against the frame and pull the door closed.
I’m halfway down the hall when I hear it creak open again, Max calling out, “Hey, princeling?” My eyes roll back at the term; it’s less endearing coming from someone else’s mouth. “You treat Eveera as fragile as you have me? Don’t expect to wake up the next morning.”
“Noted,” I repeat, leaving him behind in the hall.
I didn’t know exactly where it was I planned on going, I just knew I needed out. Out of those rooms, out of that in. If only I could get out of my own head and into someone else’s.
My walk landed me in front of a tavern we’d already searched, but I’m not here to look for her or question anyone. I’m here to drink.
The place is bare, all except for the barkeep who glances up when the bell above the door chimes. I take a spot at the end of the bar, and without saying a word, he slides an ale mug my direction. The bitter drink burns down my throat with each gulp that I take.
It’s not long before he’s refilling my cup; once, twice, and so on until the morning light starts to streak in from outside. When the rustlings of a new day start sounding outside, I toss a sack full of coins on the bartop, the two of us sharing a final nod as I stumble my way out of his business.
A wave of nausea hits me when I reach the street, and I fall into the building. Two hands grab hold of my shoulders, keeping me from keeling over, and I lift my head to see who it is.
Unfortunately, the person scowling back at me is Will. Well, Will and Max.
“Rorin?!” He hisses, throwing my arm around his neck.
“I’m f-f-fine.” I sputter as I fail to shake out of his hold.
He lets out an aggravated sigh and beckons for Max to walk on the other side of me. “You never cease to amaze me.” He grunts.
I try to give him a mock salute, but my right arm feels like lead. What was in that ale? I wonder, while simultaneously trying to forget the fact that I drank over half my body weight in alcohol. Maybe that’s why I feel like someone’s encased me in stone.
The walk back to the inn seemed longer than the walk to the bar, but once we’re in Max’s room, Will shoves me off into Bennett’s bed.
I can hear the voices around me, but my brain is far too fuzzy to decipher what they’re saying.
SNAP! SNAP!
“Hey. Hey, royal pain in my ass.” One of the voices gripes. I clumsily swat at the hand above my face.
Keeping my eyes open is going to be a feat at this point.
Someone’s foot kicks at mine to startle me out of my state, and I grit out a loud, “wha-what?!”
“Sit up, we have news.” Max barks.
“News...?” Millie asks tentatively.
Will and Max share a look before Will takes a step forward, “word from Obsidian.”
“No.”
“Rorin.”
I sobered up quickly after they announced that they had heard from Felix.
Someone at the Consulate recognized Will from one of our trade meetings, and apparently, after a lot of negotiating – and some bribery for new trade – he got our two men inside the door.
“The council is demanding you come back. Be reasonable!” Will shouts, his face turning a bright red.
“I’m not going back without her,” I say firmly.