12
The next day, Rook and I linger in his room after lunch, awaiting his punishment for the death of the Whisper.
He’s been very cagey about what to expect, but he’s dressed in a similar outfit to yesterday: a pair of soft gray leather pants and a sleeveless top adorned with buckles and straps.
He removes his rings, gently setting them on his nightstand, and for some reason, that makes me nervous.
A knock sounds at the door, and it swings open without his invitation, revealing a boy and a girl in their mid to late teens.
From their wavy black hair, high cheekbones, and straight noses, I immediately guess who they must be.
Meeting Rook’s parents was terrifying in its own right, but I suspect his siblings won’t hold anything back.
“You all ready?” asks the girl as she saunters into the room. She stops when she sees me, pausing mid-stride, mouth open, almost like a cartoon character.
“Poet, this is my baby sister, Navy,” he says. “Navy, my friend Poet.”
Navy looks between us before she folds her arms and cocks a hip. She’s dressed like Rook, her dark eyes also lined with black, and her hair is cut to her chin. “So this is the stray you brought home?”
I can’t tell from her tone if she means that as an insult, but then she breaks into a grin, bouncing over to throw her arms around me. “Hi! Let’s be friends.”
“Navy, give her some space,” Rook says, and she pulls back, holding up her hands in surrender.
“I’m just being nice!”
Rook rubs a hand across his face. “I know,” he answers, and though he sounds a little exasperated, I hear the obvious affection in his tone.
Navy smiles and drops onto the end of the bed, crossing a leg over her knee. “Tell me everything about the city. I’ve always wanted to go. What is Amery like? How did Rook do around the other students? I bet he glared at everyone a lot.”
Suddenly, my chest aches. She reminds me so much of Journey and her boundless energy that a deep loneliness for the life I left behind throbs beneath my ribs.
“Sorry about her,” says the second visitor, holding out a hand. He bears a strong resemblance to Rook and their father, although he’s a little shorter and stockier. His black hair is longer, brushing the tops of his shoulders, with half of it tied up.
“I’m Justin,” he says. “The youngest of the Athira siblings.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand.
“How are you doing? It must be tough leaving home for the first time.”
There’s such kindness in his expression that my eyes burn as I nod. “A little.”
“I hear you got into trouble,” Navy says. “Dad’s been fuming ever since we got the news about the Whisper.”
“I fucked up,” Rook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Reacted too quickly. Didn’t de-escalate, but the storm was so close, and I was worried about remaining aboveground any longer.”
His brother and sister share a knowing look, and I guess I’m not surprised that they know his secret.
Storm Caller.
I’ve been inundated with such an onslaught of new information in the past twenty-four hours that I haven’t really had a chance to sit with this particular revelation, nor consider what it means for my future.
When Rook and I hatched our plan to break into The Shield’s office, it was with the notion that we could prove we were something else to escape the Extinguishers’ hands.
If I can prove I’m not a Keeper, could I go home? Do I want to? If General Sol is also a Caller, would she protect me? The high commander made it clear I’m not welcome in the Veil, so I might not have a choice.
“Well, we should get going!” Navy says with a sharp clap of her hands. “They’re all waiting for the show!”
“What exactly is about to happen?” I ask.
“Ooh, you didn’t tell her?” Navy asks, her eyes spreading wide. She tugs me up from my chair and loops an arm through mine. “You’re about to watch my big, tough brother get the snot kicked out of him.”
A few minutes later, we enter a massive cavern carved into the mountain, with a fighting ring at its center.
Along one side are rows of stands already filled with people.
They’re chattering and laughing, many of them clutching bottles with what Navy tells me is fruit brandy.
At Rook’s entrance, a chorus of cheers and whoops swells through the crowd.
He glances up with a grim look and then turns back to me.
“Sit with Navy and Justin,” he says. “And . . . if you need to look away, I won’t blame you.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, but he’s already walking off.
“C’mon, Rook’s girlfriend,” Navy says, tugging me by the hand and dragging me to a seat in the front row.
“Don’t call me that,” I say with a frown.
“Aren’t you? Why else did he risk his ass bringing you here?”
“Language, Nav,” Justin says, sitting on my other side.
“Oh, relax. You’re so uptight,” she replies, then turns to me. “Well? Do you like him as much as he likes you?”
“He doesn’t like me,” I say reflexively. “He had no choice but to bring me here.”
But I suppose that isn’t really true.
Navy scoffs, and even Justin exhales a wry snort. I glance at him, but he’s staring into the arena where several people are gathered, his hands on his knees, practically whistling an innocent tune.
“Poet,” she says. “I know Crusts have a reputation, but you aren’t that clueless.”
I frown at her. “What makes you so sure?”
She shrugs. “I just know. Plus, he was telling us about you last night.”
“Was he? What did he say?”
“Stuff about his time at school and what he learned. How you became friends.”
I want to ask her more. I desperately want to know where Rook’s truth lies.
“So, do you like him or not?” she asks, refusing to be deterred.
I sigh and watch Rook in the center of the arena. He’s been joined by Fisher and Calliope, along with his parents and some other people I haven’t met yet.
They’re all talking in low voices, and I can’t help but admire the way the bright lights bounce off the curves of Rook’s shoulders, highlighting the breadth of his muscles and that honed physique I admired so much during Storm Guard training. And every other minute, too.
“Okay, yes,” Navy says. She holds up a hand to her mouth as if she’s sharing a secret and leans over me to speak to Justin. “She likes him. She’s practically eye-fucking him across the entire room.”
“Language,” Justin admonishes as I say at the same time, “I am not.”
Navy pulls back and gives me a thumbs-up and a knowing wink. “Sure, sure. Okay. You totally weren’t.”
I groan and drop my face into my hands before glancing up at Rook. I totally was.
I should be keeping my guard up, but I’m finding it harder and harder to feel that way.
I remind myself that he was there the night Raine died, but I haven’t confronted him about it, and after everything I’ve seen here, there’s a very good chance he has a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Maybe if I give him the chance to explain, I’ll have no reason to be angry, and I know I won’t be able to resist him.
Maybe what I’m really afraid of is taking the risk on something between us.
Something that probably has no future because his life is here and I’m not welcome in his world.
Finally, someone breaks off from the circle where Rook and the others are conferring to walk to the center of the arena.
She’s tall and slender, her arms bulging with muscles, obvious even in her knee-length leather coat.
Long platinum hair—almost the same shade as her skin—is tied into an intricate series of interconnected braids down her back.
Icy blue eyes are offset by the black band painted across her face.
She stops in the center of the arena and plants her hands on her hips.
It doesn’t take long for everyone to quiet down.
“Lieutenant General Rey,” Navy whispers to me. “A senior officer.”
“Welcome!” Rey says, her voice loud and clear, her posture straight. “As most of you know, we had a Whisper death a few days ago at Station Five.”
The room falls into silence, heads bowed as people murmur a soft word for the fallen man. Their reverence is so entirely at odds with everything I’ve ever known.
“Questioning by the high commander has determined that the death couldn’t be helped.
The circumstances meant choosing between two innocent lives.
” She pauses as if she doubts that claim, suggesting she doesn’t really believe I was all that innocent.
“But a Whisper’s death is no small thing, no matter the circumstances.
So today, Base Commander Fisher Sterling of Station Five and First Lieutenant Rook Athira—the man responsible for the death—are to be punished according to the laws of the Veil. ”
The crowd begins buzzing in anticipation. “What’s about to happen?” I ask Navy and Justin, but they don’t respond as Rey resumes speaking.
“First up will be Base Commander Sterling.” She steps back and gestures to the corner, where Fisher separates from the crowd and jogs into the center of the arena.
Several cheers erupt from the stands, and Fisher grins as he raises his arms. He doesn’t look like he’s walking to his death or anything, so maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Who do you challenge?” Rey asks, her strong voice carrying over the noise.
“They must fight hand to hand with a senior officer,” Navy whispers to me.
“Oh,” I say as I glance over at Rook. His arms are folded as he regards Fisher, who’s making a show of mulling things over as he rubs his chin.
Then Fisher turns and bows to Rey. “Would you do me the honor, Lieutenant General?”
At that, the stands explode into a round of cheers as Rey offers him a feral grin. She’s already shucking off her jacket, revealing a fitted leather top and pants. “You’re on, soldier.”
Someone arrives to go over the rules and count down the start of the match. The crowd screams as Fisher and Rey hunch into fighting stances, and then they rush at each other.
At first, I wonder what sort of punishment this is. It’s kind of public, I guess, but it seems like they’re actually having fun. Fisher and Rey struggle together, jabbing, kicking, rolling across the ground.
From what I can tell, they’re pretty evenly matched. But then something shifts, and I realize that Rey was only hamming it up for the crowd.
Suddenly, she’s raining blows on him, her face twisted into fierce concentration.
She swings a fist, catching Fisher in the jaw. I feel a collective intake of breath as his blood sprays across the floor, darkening the dirt under their feet.
He’s lying on his back, gasping. It takes several seconds before he manages to sit up, rolling over to press his hands to the ground while he spits out a gob of blood and possibly a tooth. It’s hard to be sure.
“Get up, soldier!” Rey shouts as she bounces from left to right. “We aren’t done yet!”
Fisher staggers to his feet, and then they’re at it again, but he’s moving slowly, his reflexes lagging. Rey delivers a blow to his stomach, and he folds over before she elbows him in the back, and he drops like a sack of bricks.
Now he isn’t moving at all.
His eye is swollen, and blood leaks from his nose and mouth.
“Do you yield?” Rey shouts, a fist raised over her head. She seems barely winded, her face almost free of sweat, and only a few of her smoothed blond hairs have been tugged out of place.
“Oh,” I say. “So, this is the punishment?”
“Public ass-whooping,” Navy answers with a grin.
I watch as Fisher lifts a weak hand and pounds the earth three times to the sound of clapping and cheers.
“We’re done!” Rey yells as a pair of medics arrives to retrieve Fisher on a stretcher. The mixed sound of boos and cheering follows him out of the arena.
Rey wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, spins around, and points to the far end of the cavern. “Athira! You’re up!”