Chapter 27
Soren walked through the rows of tents that lined the blackened fields and tried to remember which one was hers. It was nearing midnight, yet she still wasn’t tired. It had been a big day, and her anxiety was clawing at her like a creature in the dark, waiting until her weakest moment to strike.
She retraced her steps from earlier in the day and finally found the tent she was looking for. She swore she had left the flaps open, but she was too tired to ask questions. So, she undid the wooden hook and loop clasps and stepped inside, taking care to seal it behind her. She did not want any more of the dead crop air to fill her nostrils.
She reached around, looking for her pack; the lamp would be no use if she couldn’t find the matches to light it. She silently cursed herself for not setting them out sooner.
Her fingers sifted through the contents of her pack and landed on a small metal tin. She could hear the matches tinkling around inside and smiled in the dark. She stood to find the lamp, and her breath caught as she found her back pressed against someone else’s body.
Before she could react, a blade was pressed to her throat.
She dropped the matches, her hands shaking. Unable to move her head for fear of helping the blade’s journey, she swung her elbow back, hearing a low grunt. The reaction loosened her assailant’s grip long enough for her to push his wrist away and put some distance between them.
She wanted to run, but the man’s shadow towered before her, seemingly unfazed by her assault. She opened her mouth to call for help, but she was cut off by the stranger’s threat.
“I suggest you leave before this escalates.”
The deep tenor of his voice caused goosebumps to ripple over Soren’s skin. It took a moment before her shock let her mouth respond. She swallowed back the lump of fear that had made a home in her esophagus and finally spoke.
“Rook, what the hell are you doing in my tent?”
* * *
Rook loweredhis blade as Soren’s voice carried through the short distance between them. “Little bird?” he replied in confusion. “This is my tent.”
Soren scoffed loudly, and he imagined she was putting her hands on her hips as she responded with, “You scared the shit out of me.” He could hear her voice wavering as her breathing sped up. The panic behind her words was clear. “I thought … I thought …” She began sucking in breaths.
He reached for her in the dark. “Soren, you need to breathe.”
“I … I can’t.”
Rook caught her just as her knees buckled and she fell to the floor of the tent, her hands wrapping around her knees, forming a cage between them.
He shuffled around so he was behind her. With legs on either side of her shaking form, he pulled her back against his chest and kissed the back of her head before resting his cheek on her shoulder so he could whisper against the shell of her ear, “Breathe with me.” He inhaled slowly, letting her feel his chest rise against her back, and when she sucked in a haggard breath, he said, “Good. Now out,” then continued to exhale at the same pace.
She shuddered against him, and he could hear her let out a trembling breath.
“I’m here, little bird. I’m not going anywhere.”
She nodded in understanding, trying to get her heart rate under control.
He did not know how long they sat like that. He could feel her hot tears as they slid from her face to rest on his bare arms. After a while, the tears stopped, and her breathing evened out enough for her to choke out, “Water.”
Rook reached for his canteen and offered it to her.
She took it gratefully. The water cooled the frayed edges of her mind, washing away the rest of the panic.
He was kneeling before her now and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “Come, little bird; let’s get you to bed.”
* * *
Soren’s eyesadjusted to the dark space enough to make out Rook’s bare chest in front of her. She took another swig of water before closing the canteen and setting it aside. She let him pull her to her feet then brushed her hands down her arms. She hadn’t had a panic attack in front of him since the first day they had met. She felt stupid and weak.
He brought her over to the cot and coaxed her to sit. One by one, he undid the laces of her boots and pulled them off, followed by her socks. If the circumstances were different, she would have shrugged him off, but the anxiety attack had lowered her defenses.
She watched with wide eyes as his deft fingers undid the corset ties on her vest. He set the material aside then gestured for her to lay back. Her tunic had lifted, and the skin below her navel heated as his knuckles brushed against it before he undid the button on her leather training pants. He slid them down her thighs at an agonizing pace, leaving soft kisses in their wake. Then he folded her bottoms, placed them beside her vest at the foot of the bed, and stood to put his tunic back on.
“What are you doing?” she asked then followed up with, “Did you want to?” Her hands gestured to her half-undressed body.
Rook bit down on his lip to remind himself that it was not the time for sexual advances.
“As tempting as that is, I thought it best if you got some rest.” He began pulling his boots on over his bare feet.
Soren sat up, her chest tightening. “Please,” she said, struggling to articulate. Her next words were so soft, but they penetrated his heart with the strength of a thousand daggers. “Please, don’t go.”
He continued his steps in reverse, removing his boots then his tunic before scooting onto the cot beside her. She had turned toward the side of the tent so he could mold his body to hers.
“Thank you,” she replied, nuzzling back into him, relishing in the heat that always seemed to radiate from his athletic frame.
“Do you want to talk about what just happened?”
“Ask me tomorrow.”
“As you wish, little bird,” he replied, allowing himself to bask in the lavender scent that drifted off her skin. Three days at sea, and she still somehow smelled just as he remembered.
“And Rook?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay tomorrow, too?” It was a question, not a statement.
Asking him to stay with her on a continuous basis was not something she was sure she was ready for, but she did know one thing—she felt better when he was around.
She waited nervously as he took his sweet time to answer.
“As long as you’ll have me,” he responded, kissing the soft spot where the curve of her neck met her jaw. “Now get some sleep.”
“Always so bossy,” she quipped with a lazy smile.
He held her tight as her breathing softened and her body fell into a rhythmic sleep. He stayed awake for a while, savoring the moment, for he did not know how many nights like this they might have together.
“I love you,” he whispered, not willing to admit just yet how much he wished for her to say it back.
He allowed her dreams to be her own for the night and let his mind drift until sleep took him.
* * *
Morning came too soon,and Soren immediately regretted staying up so late. She stirred, opening her eyes, and found herself looking into Rook’s sleeping face. I must have turned over, she thought. She ran her hands through his hair, enjoying the feel of him being so close.
His lids fluttered open, and his eyes met hers.
She couldn’t help but grin at how cute he looked all mussed with sleep. His normally rigid demeanor was softened, and she enjoyed this was a part of him that no one else got to see.
“Good morning, little bird.” he said.
“Morning,” she replied, feeling suddenly awkward. She sat up, running her fingers through her tangled hair.
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Eh.” She shrugged and started picking at her nails. “Thank you for staying.”
He turned to rest his head on his arm and grabbed her hands with his free one to stop her nervous habit. He brushed his lips along the curves and valleys of her knuckles and kissed each fingertip. “It was my pleasure.”
The action sent a tingle of warmth to all her nerve endings, but she gently pulled her hands from his grasp. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“What do you mean? The tent thing was an honest mistake. If you no longer want to share, we can confirm with Evelyn where the other tent is.”
Soren gave him an incredulous look. “First of all, this is my tent. Second of all, I’ll decide if I want to share depending on if I like you today.”
Rook laughed at this, and Soren could feel the vibrations rumbling from his chest through the bedroll.
“That is not very promising since you hate me every day,” he said, leveling her with that smirk she loved so much. Sometimes, she let herself forget how unbelievably attractive he was.
“I mean, true, but that’s not what I was apologizing for.”
He gave her a questioning look.
“I’m sorry for freaking out.”
“You’re apologizing for having a reasonable emotional response to what you thought was a stranger threatening your life?”
When he put it that way, it made her feel ridiculous for even broaching the subject.
“I just don’t like people seeing that side of me.” She looked down at the worn blanket but turned her head back to Rook as he pressed up from the cot to sit beside her.
“So, you’re saying Enara has never seen you like that before?”
“No. I mean, of course she has, and Baz a couple of times, but it’s not something I go sharing with everyone. I don’t walk around Vreburn like, ‘Hey, just wanted to let you know I have anxiety and debilitating panic attacks on a regular basis!’”
Rook chuckled again, and Soren wondered why she hadn’t tried to make him laugh more back at the manor. The melodic sound filled her soul with joy.
“I just mean to say your emotions do not make you weak. If anything, they are your strength. Your worry for your friends is what kept you going at the manor, and your love for your father is what brought you here. Your emotions are your armor, and you are the sword. They are your strength—do not forget that.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she choked down a sob. “I wasn’t always like this, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Something happened when I was young, and since then, I have always had trouble dealing with things rationally.”
“Being emotional does not make you irrational … Well, sometimes,” he said, giving her a playful smirk. “But go on.”
“It’s too hard. I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it just yet.”
“I understand, and I won’t force you, but if you won’t talk about it when we could all be dead in a couple weeks’ time, then when do you think you will be ready to talk about it?”
Soren knew he was right. She also knew she didn’t want to potentially go to her grave without someone knowing all of her. She always thought when she finally wanted to share the source of her trauma, it would be to Enara. She had tried so many times to tell her what had happened that night, but she never knew where to start. After a while, she had just tucked it away in a box at the back of her mind. She had even managed to forget about it for a few years … until memories started breaking back through from the buried spaces in her brain.
Her father’s death seemed to have broken the dam that she had built inside to protect herself, and everything had come flooding back with one giant wave that threatened to pull her under.
She took in a steadying breath and said, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’m ready.”
* * *
Rook waited quietly asSoren started to articulate what had happened to her. She went on to explain that, back when she was a child, she had a sleepover at one of her father’s friends’ houses. This had been before the incident with Altair, and he had known quite a few people in town. He had been celebrating a recent find and wanted to spend the evening with some friends from back home. So, he’d made arrangements with Mrs. Rouse and her husband to have Soren stay over at their place for the evening.
They had a daughter who was a year and a half older and a sixteen-year-old son. Soren had been eight. Tarak had been friends with the couple for years, and the kids had grown up together. He couldn’t have known anything bad would happen.
Soren went on to explain how they would play games about rescuing princesses and capturing thieves, and how she had always loved spending time with them. The older brother, Marshall, would always be the conquering hero, and her his blushing bride.
Every time they finished a mission, he would say she had to give him a kiss to say thank you for saving her. She, of course, would oblige. Even at her young age, she had always thought him to be pretty and felt special that he wanted to kiss her. She had never realized how inappropriate his requests were until the memories came flooding back. The sister, Tilly, had never known anything was amiss, or if she had, she had never said so.
Soren remembered everything about that night. She remembered what they had eaten for dinner, what play they had acted out before they were tucked into bed. She remembered the nightgown she had worn when Marshall had snuck into the room. She remembered being surprised that Tilly hadn’t woken from the bed next to her as Marshall slid below the blankets and pressed his body to hers.
Rook repressed his anger as Soren continued.
She explained how sometimes she could still feel the touch of his hands on her skin. The kisses he had planted on her neck and back that had made her child-sized toes tingle. The heat between her legs as he’d pressed his fingers into her body in a way that had felt so foreign but good in a way. The soreness she had felt afterwards as she had followed him to the kitchen.
She couldn’t recall most of their conversation, but she remembered watching him take a bite of an apple and asking him if he should clean his hands. She didn’t remember what had happened after that. She couldn’t recall any other instances, apart from that one time, but that one time had changed everything.
She had always felt the need to be in control of things her whole life. When plans changed, or people were unreliable, she would take her frustrations out on those closest to her. Her personal relationships had always been strained, and her father had been none the wiser because she had never spoken about the events of that night with him. Instead, he had always been so patient with her and let her get her anger out with sports or combat training in school.
She never blamed him for not asking more questions. She knew she had hid her feelings from him well, and when she had lashed out, she had been so quick to apologize that he had chalked it up to growing pains. Not having her mother in the picture had given him a little bit of leeway in that regard. How was he to know what the teenage experience was like from the female perspective?
“I was so angry all the time,” Soren continued. “I never sought help for my issues. I didn’t even know how to ask for it until Enara came into my life. Then Baz suggested I speak to his mom about taking something to help with the panic attacks. Yet I still never told them exactly what had happened.”
Rook had remained silent as she shared her story, building a mental wall around the anger that threatened to burst forth and burn the world to the ground himself to find this boy who had taken advantage of Soren as a child.
“You know you don’t owe them an explanation, Soren,” Rook said softly.
“I know, but how do you explain something like that to someone and share that it felt good while it was happening? Something inside me is wrong. How could I have found enjoyment in someone doing that to me?”
“You were a child, Soren. The actions of a grown boy, who was old enough to know better, were not your fault.”
“So, you don’t think I’m fucked up?”
Rook shook his head and pulled her close to him. “I think you were taken advantage of and didn’t know how to ask for help. You owe the world nothing, Soren.”
She sniffled and crossed her arms over her knees to hide her face. She muffled something, but Rook couldn’t understand the words.
“Speak up, little bird.”
Soren lifted her reddened eyes to repeat herself. “Sometimes, I feel like I am just as bad as he was.”
Rook was taken aback by her admission. “Why do you feel that way?”
“After Dad died, I kind of went on a rampage. We both know I am no virgin.” She laughed at this, but the sound was like a dead weight sitting in the pit of Rook’s stomach. “I wanted to take my control back. Control over my own body and what men could or could not do with it. You would think, after being sexually assaulted as a child, that I would avoid that type of contact with anyone, but it was the opposite. I wanted to take back what he had taken from me, and I thought, by being promiscuous, it would give me back a sense of control. I chose who was allowed in my bed and when. I chose how far things went and if I felt like seeing them again. I could kick them out whenever I pleased because it was my house. But, like, who does that?”
“Soren, if you’re expecting me to judge you for your previous sexual encounters, you’re wrong. Well, apart from Marshall, who I am very much in debate on hunting down. As long as everything was consensual, it is really none of my business. We all have a past; I do not judge you for how you chose to cope with your heartache.”
“So, you don’t think I’m broken?”
“I think we are all a little broken,” he replied softly. Then he folded her into his arms, and all the tears she had held packed away in that little box finally broke free.