State of Sorrow (Sorrow #1)(98)
How could she have been so blind?
Never again, she vowed silently. I can’t do this to him again. Or to myself.
“Rasmus…” she began.
“It’s all right.” He spoke quickly. “I know. This was a goodbye, wasn’t it?”
She nodded. “It has to be. This… This is wrong. Not because of laws, but because … I’m using you.” There was a relief in saying it aloud, even as she hated herself for the truth of it. “Every time something goes wrong, it’s you I run to. Not even you, but this… Being with you. I use it to fix me. I didn’t know before now, I swear it. If I’d known I wouldn’t have…”
He was silent for a moment. “I never minded,” he said softly.
The floor beneath her seemed to shift at his words. He’d known. All along, he’d known. And he’d let her do it.
“So, if you did ‘use me’, which isn’t how I’d phrase it, then I consented,” he continued. “In fact more than consented. Encouraged. I was willing to take you on whatever terms I could. It’s not a great look for me, either.”
Sorrow knew what he was trying to say, and do, but it didn’t stop the shame that heated her skin.
“I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be.” He moved as if to stroke her hair, and then stopped, lowering his hand. “I don’t regret a moment of it.”
“I don’t either. I never will.”
“One day, we’ll be able to be real friends,” he said softly. “Not for a while, I think. But one day.”
“I hope so,” Sorrow whispered.
“I know so. I just need a few centuries to get over you first.” He tried bravely to smile, and Sorrow nodded.
“Will you go back to the ball?” he asked.
“No,” Sorrow said. “Will you?”
“No.” He walked to the door and peered out. “It’s clear, you’re safe to go.”
“Goodbye, Ras.”
“Goodbye, Row,” he said. His mouth curved gently, then he turned away from her.
Sorrow stayed where she was for a long moment, mastering herself, before she stepped into the hallway. The ball sounded as lively as it had when she’d left it, and she saw Luvian talking to Eirlys and the baron as she passed, all of them smiling.
Luvian spotted her and came after her, catching up to her in the main doorway of the keep.
“I thought you’d gone back to our rooms. I sent Irris after you.”
“No. I went to get some air. I’m going back there now.”
“The fireworks are about to start; don’t you want to watch them?”
Sorrow shook her head. “I’d better find Irris.”
“All right.” Luvian nodded, his eyes sad. “I’ll be back soon.”
As the carriage pulled up outside the little palace, there was a whistling sound above her and she looked up, in time to see an explosion of colour across the sky, reds and greens cascading out, then fading. A split second later two more starbursts appeared, accompanied by echoing pops. She paused on the stairs and watched as the sky lit up, over and over, with coloured lights, the scent of smoke on the balmy summer air. For some reason they made her throat tight, her eyes prick with tears. When they finished, the final wisps of smoke drifting across the crescent moon, she turned and continued, feeling strangely bereft.
It was quiet inside the small palace, and she made her way straight to her rooms, only to find them empty. She must have missed Irris. She debated whether to go and find her – she knew she should; she’d hurt enough people for one day, without alienating Irris too. But all she wanted was a bath, and to sleep. Maybe a good night’s rest would wipe away the despair that she couldn’t quite keep down.
She sat on the side of the bath as it filled, the sound similar enough to the pool in the hall to make her flush at the memory of what had just happened. She stood abruptly and began to braid her hair, crossing to the mirror to pin it to her head, before slipping off her dress and pulling on a soft robe.
The main door to their set of rooms opened. “Irris?” she called.
When he didn’t answer, she turned off the taps.
“Irris, is that—”
A giant hooded and masked figure appeared in the doorway.
The Sons of Rhannon.
The Tower
Sorrow backed away.
“Wrong,” the man said, and Sorrow recognized his voice. He was the one who’d attacked her in Prekara. “Your friend is dead.”
“No…” The world seemed to shift on its axis as horror roared through Sorrow. Not Irris…
“Don’t worry, Miss Ventaxis, you’ll see her very soon, I promise.”
He began to move towards her, and Sorrow scanned the room for something, anything she could use as a weapon, all the while her mind chanting no, no, no at the thought of bright, brilliant Irris being dead. He was lying. It had to be a lie. She picked up a bar of soap and threw it at the man, but he dodged it easily, still advancing.
“Dain!” Sorrow screamed, praying the guard down in her library room would hear her. “Dain!”
“No one’s coming.”
She knew how to fight with a small sword, a foil and an épée, had been trained alongside Irris when they were children. She knew how to hit and punch and slap and kick. But when the man moved, vaulting over the bath in a fluid motion and grabbing her, moving far faster than she’d thought someone his size could, she realized none of the things she knew would help her. Not against someone who truly meant to harm her.