17
“Why should she do any of that?” Rook demands. “You’re sending her, sending us both to our deaths if the chancellors learn what we are. I don’t owe a fucking thing to New Manhattan.”
General Sol’s brows draw together. “You’re correct.
I have little right to ask this of you, and the choice is yours.
You could remain here and live as you’ve always planned, but I know that you and your father want to find a cure as badly as I do.
I will share it with you once I recover the research.
I also know you are Summit’s son, and you wouldn’t walk away from the chance to do the right thing for everyone. ”
Rook scoffs. “Don’t try to test my sense of morality. You’re the one who stole the research.”
Sol places a hand to her heart. “I’m offering all of my knowledge, Rook. You are a Caller—I’m sure you want to know how I power the city. I can give you that.”
“You’re bargaining with me?”
“You must admit, it’s a tempting offer. The cure and a literal lifeline for your people.”
Rook huffs but doesn’t reply as Sol turns to me. “And Poet, the city is your home. Your parents are sick with worry about you. Don’t you want to see them? Won’t you help me protect them?”
“How are they?” I whisper. “How’s my mom?”
“Missing you terribly,” she says. “Wondering if she’ll ever see you again.”
“My dad knew about me all along. And he really wanted to protect me?”
“Because he loves you,” she says. “I would have done the same for my own children.”
“Maybe,” I say, but I won’t agree to anything until I ask the question that’s been burning on my tongue since the moment I saw the general.
“You took my brother’s body,” I say. “The night we broke into The Shield’s computer, I saw you on the video feed.”
General Sol studies me and blinks. “I remember that night. Such a terrible tragedy.”
That’s when I start trembling. “Why did you tell us Solitudes took him? You took him.”
“I did take him,” she confesses. “But I was trying to protect him. I knew what he was, too, and I tried to shield him from his fate. My plan was to get him out of the city, but they couldn’t suspect, so I lied and claimed his attackers had him.”
“He was like me,” I say.
She dips her chin. “Not quite like you, but yes.”
“What happened?” My words are barely a whisper, teased apart like finely spun gossamer.
I notice Sol’s eyes shine in the dimming light as she stares at me, and I know that whatever she says next will break me all over again.
“I’m sorry, Poet. I failed him just like I’ve failed so many others.”
With that, the weak glimmer of hope I was carrying like a sputtering flame is snuffed out. My shoulders curve inward as I begin shaking violently. It’s all been too much. Too many things have been happening. Too many truths.
Too much. Too much.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I curl into myself and start sobbing.
It was silly to hope. Ridiculous to think there was a chance he might still be alive.
Arms wrap around me, warm, safe. Rook tugs me close, and I bury my face in the crook of his shoulder, crying so hard that I can’t catch my breath.
“I think we need some time,” I hear him say. “She’s in shock.”
“Of course,” comes Sol’s voice. “We’ll give you both some space.”
The words are distant, muffled.
Fragments of speech filter through my grief. Sentences I can’t process.
“. . . to your room.”
“. . . talk in the morning.”
“. . . some food sent over.”
Then Rook is lifting me up, cradling me in his arms as I shake and shake.
I’m so cold, so tired. I can’t stop trembling.
My teeth chatter, and my hands ache. His warm lips press to my forehead before he starts walking, winding through the halls.
My eyes squeeze shut. I don’t want to see anyone or anything.
I hear more voices. A few hellos, concerned questions, but we keep moving.
Then we stop, and I hear a door, and Rook lowers me onto a soft bed.
He gently tugs off my boots and pulls a blanket over me. I smell him in the sheets. His fresh scent. The unmistakable smell of home. Not the one I grew up in, but the home he built for me over the last year.
He sweeps back my hair and kisses my cheek. “I’m here,” he whispers. “I’ll take care of you.”
I believe him. Despite everything, I believe him. I always have.
A door opens again. More voices, the smell of food.
“Do you want to eat something?” Rook asks, and I shake my head. Then he’s crawling in beside me as someone appears above—a medic with a syringe.
“He’s offering something to help you sleep,” Rook says. “If you want.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice rough, dragged over sandpaper. Anything to toss me into oblivion. I need a break from this crushing reality.
A sharp prick, and my vision blurs.
Rook wraps his arms around me, and we lie together. Already, I feel the drugs taking hold, and I welcome the embrace of darkness.
Before I fall asleep, I mumble, “I think your sister is right, and maybe I feel the same way.”
And then I’m gone.
The next time I come to, I’m alone. A low lamp burns in the corner, and Rook’s bed is soft and comfortable.
I nestle down into his thick blanket before the smell of food wafts over.
My stomach rumbles, and I try to remember the last time I had a proper meal.
The morning of Rook’s fight with his dad, but even then, I was too nervous to eat much.
The sound of water running in the bathroom tells me Rook must be showering, so I reluctantly throw off the covers and push myself up.
My head spins, and my knees wobble. Probably an effect of the drugs they gave me. I’m grateful for it. I don’t think I could have slept otherwise. I still don’t feel amazing, but at least I don’t feel like I’ll fall down and die at any moment. It’s the little things sometimes.
I pad over in my socks to discover steaming plates of spaghetti with meat sauce and thick slices of garlic bread.
It looks amazing. I sit down and start helping myself, and it might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
I pour myself a glass of fruit wine, and I’m into my second helping of sauce and noodles when Rook emerges from the bathroom.
He’s wearing a towel slung low on his hips, his chest gleaming with water. My cheeks warm with a rush as I take him in. I’ve seen him like this before. We shared a room for months, but the sight of him still catches me off guard.
“You’re up,” he says, his voice so full of hope that my chest twists.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Almost a full day,” he says, and I nod, because I guess I really needed that.
“I was hungry,” I say, pointing to my half-eaten plate. “I hope it’s okay.”
“Of course. I’m thrilled you’re eating. If you want to shower, it’s all yours.”
“That would be nice.”
He crosses the room and retrieves a fresh shirt and pants. He tugs on the top, depriving me of the view of his muscled back. I think I pout a little. Then he slides on his underwear beneath his towel before his pants come next. I could look away. I should look away, but I don’t.
He spins around to find me watching him and arches a brow. “See something you like, Trouble?”
“Yes,” I say. “I think I’ve made that clear before.”
He smirks and approaches, dropping to a knee. “I wasn’t sure anymore.”
I shake my head. “I’ve been angry with you. I wish you had shared with me, but I also understand why you didn’t. How could you trust me when you were just protecting all of this? I see why you had to do it.”
He tips his head, studying me. “I was planning to tell you. I swear. After the ball, I wanted to tell you everything. It didn’t feel right—growing closer, letting this thing between us progress while keeping secrets.
Any good relationship can only be built on trust. My parents are the best role models for that. ”
“Right,” I say. “I believe you, and . . . I don’t want to be angry with you anymore. There are too many other things we need to deal with.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I sigh as he slides into the other chair and starts helping himself to food.
“I suppose we should. How much of all that did you know?”
“Some of it. We suspected The Shield was withholding a cure, but obviously, the rest was news to me.”
“What do you think about Sol’s idea of trying to get the truth out of Trinity?”
“I don’t know,” Rook says. “I think it’s unlikely some new recruit will be trusted with their deepest secrets, but you might have the best shot of anyone, even after . . . everything.”
“Right. So I use her to get closer to someone higher up, like Sol mentioned.” I pull a face. “I hate them so much.”
He offers me a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to do this.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“We could stay here. You’d be safe. With me.”
I exhale a sigh. “Would I, though? And for how long? Your father said I wasn’t welcome here.”
“We’ll change his mind.”
“What if you decide I’m too much trouble to keep around?”
He quirks a smile. “Never.”
I think he truly means that, but the rest of the Veil will definitely have objections to my presence.
“I need to go back for my mom,” I say. “My friends. I know New Manhattan isn’t perfect, but it’s been my whole life. The only one I’ve ever known.”
“Of course. I can understand all that.”
I spin my fork on my plate. “I need to ask my father why he kept my secret. I can’t help but wonder if he had some angle I haven’t considered.”
“Angle?” Rook asks, and I shrug.
“He never does anything without a reason.”
“Couldn’t his reason be that he wanted to protect his child?”
I snort and stuff some bread into my mouth. “That’s never been his style.”
Rook’s lips pull into a thin line, and we both fall silent as we quietly eat for a few minutes.
“You don’t have to come,” I say. “I can try to find the cure without you.”
He shakes his head. “If you’re going, so am I.”
“But this isn’t your fight.”
“It is,” he says. “Sol promised to teach us what she can do. I’d be willing to risk everything for that alone.” He hesitates, and it’s clear he has more to say. “I have another brother. One you haven’t met yet.”