2. Rourke
Rourke
Red. Has there ever been such a brilliant color?
I imagine the hue paints the edges of heaven.
No, that’s not right. Perhaps the other place—where I’ll spend eternity at the end.
Red shades my vision, but sadly, it fades away as the green and mahogany-adorned room takes its place.
I miss the warmth already. So much green.
Father loves the color. Says it’s part of our lineage.
Odd since he seems to enjoy the red so much more, especially when he tasks me to create it—wash the world in it.
My head aches as I search for another glimpse of the calming red.
Movement surrounds me. I’m seated in a chair in my room.
A handmaid runs a damp cloth down my arm, over my bloodied scales, taking the color with her.
She rinses the rag in a porcelain bowl of clean water beside her, turning the water pink.
Lovely—not as much as red, but it holds the reminder.
One maid cleans my rose-embossed ring, my family’s seal, but also so much more.
The other works on cleaning off my hook.
Once upon a time, a human hand took its place, but that’s just what they tell me.
I don’t remember. The same as I don’t recall being without the scales that make shimmery patchwork over my skin, or my golden reptilian eye always moving—always searching for red.
There’s plenty of murky memories clammed away in my mind. Including whose blood currently drips from my lips, the metallic taste still coating my mouth.
The maid wipes the silver clean, all except a drop that drips from the tip of the sharp, curved edge. She doesn’t notice it and moves to the splatters on my bare chest. I revel in the knowledge that the tiny spot will seep into the hand-woven rug, never leaving my quarters.
The two women at my side stand straight once the doors open, pinching their plain pastel skirts and bowing once my father steps in front of me. “Lord Pan,” they coo in reverence. I straighten in my chair, my human hand gripping the wooden armrest.
He addresses the women first. “Ladies, please continue.”
They buzz back into tidying me, quicker now, as he takes a seat on the bench near the large window overlooking the back gardens. I note his fallen shoulders, the smoothed lines under his green eyes. I’ve done well. He won’t say it, but his posture reveals the truth.
One of the maids pulls my head back and I lean into a bowl.
She wraps her hand around my shoulder-length hair and sweeps a dark tendril out of my eye before pouring warm water over my scalp.
It’s odd they won’t bathe me properly. It aggravates me that I can’t prune in a tub of the remnants of my kill. I surmise it’s on my father’s orders.
As if reading my mind he clears his throat and stands. “We must hurry, we have an important guest joining us for dinner tonight.”
I salivate at his words. I’m not usually paraded around, unless to intimidate. Could it be so soon? “For me?” I ask.
He chuckles, patting my shoulder. I flinch but he doesn’t notice the tremor or doesn’t mind my body's innate fear at his touch. “Something like that. Either for you or your brother.”
“Peter?” My sibling isn’t like me. Perhaps because we share no blood, even if we were both raised by the same man.
Peter is light—the coloring of a harvest-crisped leaf, speckled with green, dancing in the wind that pushes him at ease, whereas I am the dark soil beneath him, lying in wait to consume the rot thrown my way.
Father doesn’t bother tasking him as he does me, says Peter doesn’t have the nerve nor the means. Who could possibly be for both of us?
He must understand my question. “No, not like that. This is a prized possession, not a pest for you to dispose of.”
My face must reveal my disappointment because he laughs again. “Don’t worry, my boy. There’s plenty of dirty tax collectors and rebel leaders for your never-ending appetite, but you’re done with your task for today. Now it’s time to cover the scales and tuck away the teeth.”
The maid slides a silver comb through my hair, meeting resistance and tugging against my scalp. I growl, low in my throat. She shrieks, releasing me, and steps away as the other maid takes her place with shaky hands.
Father tsks. “Now, Rourke, that’s enough of that.
You should be in high spirits after your feast. That bloke I threw you wasn’t even a real threat to my rule.
He was annoying, yes, but I wanted you sated, on your best behavior tonight.
” He grabs my shoulders, not even having to kneel to reach my eye level.
Father never usually gets so close, but it’s times like these that I’m reminded of my sheer physical magnitude over him.
I’ve always been larger, yet fear him as if I were a sparrow and he a dire wolf.
“My son, tonight is just the beginning. Neverhaven could be yours if you grasp the opportunity I will present to you.”
I’m not as quick-witted as he’d prefer me, far less than Peter.
His words puzzle me, but instead of risking his displeasure at a question, I remain silent.
Yet, the faint lines at the corner of his eyes droop and his thin lips sag.
“I won’t be around forever. Either you or Peter must take my place. Surely, you must realize this?”
“Yes,” I respond, straightening as a white undershirt is thrown over my shoulders and the ladies smooth down the long sleeves covering my arms.
Father’s expression doesn’t waver. “We’ll see. This will be the test of who can handle the responsibility.” He turns, walking toward the door. I’ve displeased him and my temper runs hot at my disappointment.
“Rourke,” he stops before exiting, not turning to address me.
“Take yourself in hand before dinner tonight. I need you sharp. I have faith in your devotion and brutality, but I can’t have you growing tender to our guest. Peter may lack focus, but he trumps your ability to resist the desire for a woman’s attention.
” He turns to me now, green eyes murky. “You must remain vicious.”
“Yes, Father.”
He nods. “Good. Now, I have a pirate to attend to.” He leaves, and I stare down at the crimson spot below me, focusing on nothing but the shade.
I let the pigment seep into the ridges of my mind, blurring out the women working around me.
If I must find my release, I’ll need the cover of the shade.
I’ll need the red to guide my primal thoughts as it has time and time again.