Chapter 11
Rook, Evelyn, and Meena stood at the edge of Vreburn’s town center that had been all but burned to the ground. Smoke filled the sky in large plumes from the still-raging fires, and the air smelled of burned wood and tasted of ash.
Meena stifled a horrified sob as they walked past a pile of bodies to the left of the market square, all blackened beyond recognition.
“These poor people,” Evelyn whispered, taking in the scene before her. A young mother had her son propped on the well, tending to a large burn on his thigh, while her own back was mottled with scorch marks. Evelyn could see that the fabric of her cotton shirt had melded to the skin and grimaced. She must have carried him out, using her body as a shield to protect him from the flames, she thought.
“Stay close,” Rook said. “We don’t yet know what happened here. We must tread carefully.”
Meena gave him a pointed look. “These people need our help.”
“As much as I appreciate your bleeding heart, we need to make sure this is not a ruse intended for us to let our guard down. Corvus would have reached my father by now, and we all know what he is capable of.”
Meena backed off, but only slightly, and the three of them walked further into the square.
Rook’s face was a cool mask. He refused to allow himself to show the anguish he felt inside every time they passed another pile of bodies, praying to the Maker that none of them were hers.
The journey to Vreburn had been done out of necessity. He would rather be anywhere but back in Draestel. Unfortunately for him, Soren had found a way to block him from entering her dreams, which made her impossible to track. Though he was a man of means, his pride prevented him from paying someone to find her for him.
Logically, he assumed she would return to her place of origin, which had led him here, to an inconsequential town in southern Draestel. The road had been long, but he’d had good company when Meena had learned to still her ever-moving mouth. He knew she had just been trying to pass the time over the course of their journey, but the girl really did not know when to shut up.
He looked to his companions, seeing their internal struggle to help all those they passed on the way to the town center. They had visited Soren’s family home first but had found it to be empty. He’d thought she might not have been comfortable resting her head in the home her father had built and had altered their course toward the irritating Xian-Dao boy’s home.
Being out of town, Soren’s home had avoided getting caught in the crossfire and remained undamaged. The same could not be said for her friends’ homes. Every building within the city limits had been burned asunder, with few survivors, from the looks of it.
Something unfamiliar in his chest ached when he spotted a head of long, brown hair hanging limp over a lifeless body’s face.
He ran to the smoking pile of flesh without a second thought, startling Meena and Evelyn in the process. His heart nearly burst as he reached a trembling hand forward to brush the hair from the woman’s eyes. It can’t be, he thought. Not my little bird.
It wasn’t. Cloudy gray eyes looked back at him from an unfamiliar face, and he released the breath that he had caged between his ribs. It’s not her. Thank the Maker it’s not her.
He replaced his stoic mask and returned to the girls, who looked at him expectantly.
“It’s not her.”
“Oh, thank the Maker!” Meena exclaimed, hugging him in relief.
He patted her head awkwardly before detaching her arms from his torso. “Just because that body does not belong to Soren, does not guarantee she is alive,” he said coldly. The thought made his stomach roil, as though he had eaten something rotten, but he was trying to be pragmatic.
“Why do you do that?” Evelyn asked, her tone sharp.
“Do what?”
“Pretend like you don’t care for the girl.”
Rook shrugged in an effort to look indifferent. “I never said I did not care. I’m simply being realistic.”
“Whatever you say, master.” Evelyn rolled her eyes before grabbing Meena’s hand and stomping a few yards ahead.
Rook cringed at the title—master. The word disgusted him. His father had instructed the girls to call him that, stating they should respect his generosity toward them. They only ever referred to him as master when his father was around, for fear of repercussion. He had requested to be called by his real name in all other instances.
Every time they had said it when Soren had been at the manor, he’d wanted to correct them, but he’d allowed it for their safety, knowing his father was set to arrive. After a week of hearing the term over and over, he had finally requested they stop referring to him in that manner. That was, of course, once he had known Soren would not say anything to Adriel. He would not risk the girls’ safety. They were the closest thing to family he had.
“Lift!” a husky female voice yelled from across the square.
Rook was pulled from his thoughts of Soren to see two men and a woman attempting to lift a fallen beam from atop another woman’s leg. She was screaming in agony, and her green eyes were brimming with tears. He watched on as they attempted to remove the obstruction, but the weight was too much. The woman screamed again.
They all cursed, and the men wiped their brows as the husky-voiced woman kissed the green-eyed woman’s forehead. He knew he should ignore them and stay on task, but the other injured had already been tended to, and this woman was actively in trouble. He sighed his annoyance and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt.
“Try again,” he said, wasting no time on introductions.
The husky-voiced woman looked away from her partner and dashed the tears from her eyes. She did not question the help, and her, along with the two men, joined Rook. They gripped the beam and, with a final heave, released the green-eyed woman from her ashy prison.
Meena cheered from the background, and Evelyn smiled.
“Lonny!” the green-eyed woman sobbed out as she slid herself from beneath the beam and hobbled to embrace the other woman.
“It’s okay, Lara. You’re okay.”
Rook observed the rings on their hands and deduced they must be married.
Lonny smoothed her wife’s hair and placed a soft kiss on each of her tear-soaked eyes. “Come,” she said. “Let me take a look at you.”
Rook watched on as Lonnytugged up Lara’s trouser leg to reveal a nasty bruise, though he thought it miraculous that her bone had not snapped.
They would have needed another three men to bear the weight of that post if he had not arrived. His shoulder had dislocated in the process of pushing his body past its limits to release her.
He sauntered over to Evelyn and stated plainly, “I need you to reset my arm. It’s dislocated.”
She raised her brow but quickly maneuvered his limp arm back into its socket with a sickening pop.
Meena, who had been cheering silently about Rook helping the woman, cringed at the sound. “You know, one of these times, something isn’t gonna heal right.”
“Well, let’s hope, for all our sakes, my father is dead before that happens.”
The girls opened their mouths then closed them, unsure of how to respond to his bluntness. Then, before either of them could muster up what to say, a comment from the female couple stilled their tongues.
“Thank the Maker Baztien wasn’t here. I can’t even think of it.”
The statement from the woman named Lara grabbed Rook’s attention, and he stalked over to them with renewed purpose. He stood over her expectantly. “What did you just say?”
Lonny put a hand on his chest and pushed him back a step. “That’s close enough. I appreciate you helping my wife, but that does not give you any right to invade her personal space.”
He held up his hands in faux apology. “I’m sorry. I just heard the name of someone I know. I’m looking for him. You did say Baztien, did you not? Do you know him?”
Lonny laughed as if it were the most ridiculous question in the world. “Baztien is our son.”
* * *
Rook would sayhe couldn’t believe his luck, but really, the chances of him finding Baz’s parents were statistically pretty high, considering the location and circumstance.
Rook and Evelyn sat across from the two women at Soren’s dining table while Meena finished preparing dinner. She was sure the meal would be bland without any fresh produce but was pleased to find that the cold cellar provided more than ample supplies for heartier fare.
They all nodded in understanding as the two women explained that they were Laraline and Alondra, Baztien’s adoptive mothers. Laraline then told them of the letters Baztien had been writing throughout their journey. She had been getting worried when she had received no news for over a week when, just yesterday, a letter had arrived from Murkwall. He had said they needed to leave for their own protection and that they were on the road to Edras Mora.
“The details were a bit stingy,” she admitted, “but we packed our rucks with haste. We were just resting for a couple of hours before departing when the fires broke out.” Her voice cracked at the mention of the fires, and Alondra gave her fingers a squeeze before continuing for her.
“We know we should go, but we figure the worst has already happened, and we can’t leave the town like this. I ran the apothecary, where you found us, and they will need my skills here. I may not be a fully schooled healer, but my knowledge base is vast, and my hands are steady.”
Rook was secretly glad. He hadn’t wanted to acquire more traveling companions, especially when the two he already had were not even supposed to be there. “I will find them and assist with their journey as best I can,” he said in the hopes his words would soothe their worries.
Alondra did not seem to trust what he said, but she relented. “We will do what we can here and join you in bringing them home once we get these people back on their feet,” she said with finality. “Come, Lara; let’s get you to bed. We need to elevate that leg.” She extended her hand to her wife then gingerly led her up the stairs, retiring to Tarak Nightsong’s old bedroom. It was the biggest room in the house, and they had all decided it was best they have it.
Meena called out, “Goodnight,” just as the door clicked shut and joined her sister and Rook at the table. “So, what’s the plan?”
Evelyn clasped her hands on top of the wooden surface and loosed a breath. “Well, at this point, I think we should stay here. Rook is more than capable of traveling alone to Edras Mora, and our skills are not meant for combat.”
Meena bit her lip and nodded. “I was thinking that, too.” Then, looking at Rook, she said, “Are you sure you won’t need us?”
He quirked one of his rare smiles as he replied, “What’s that saying? Separation makes the heart grow fond?”
* * *
Rook grimacedas he tugged a honey-blond strand of hair off his face and stepped out of Meena’s arms. He was not used to familial affection and gave her an awkward smile as he backed away.
Evelyn patted his shoulder and gave him a contented look that said this was only goodbye for now and took Meena’s hand. “Come, sister; we are needed elsewhere.”
Rook watched on as the girls followed Laraline and Alondra back into the heart of Vreburn, wishing them well. They were resilient, and he knew they would be fine on their own, but he was glad that Baz’s mothers could provide them with additional care and support.
As they faded out of sight, his thoughts returned to Soren, and something in his rib cage ticked painfully. He had stayed in Soren’s room that night, hating the thought of anyone else being closer to her than he was. Enveloped in her earthy citrus scent, he had fallen into a deep sleep, disappointed once again upon waking that he had not been able to locate her in her dreams.
He re-entered the house and strapped his blade to his hip, relief filling him that he no longer had to guard Meena and Evelyn as his journey continued. He had avoided as much human interaction as possible on the way to Vreburn to keep them safe, but now nothing stood in his way. He would leave for Edras Mora and find Soren. He would explain what had happened with her father. And Maker help anyone who stood in his way, because if they did, he would teach them a whole new meaning of the word suffering.