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“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Rook?”
She looked up from the book she had been reading to look at Emmrich, who had placed his book down on the side table, bookmark sticking out from the pages. So it wasn’t to be a quick question, then.
She dogeared her page and rested her book on her lap, giving her necromancer companion her full attention.
“You know you can ask me anything.”
Emmrich gave her a genuine smile and she heard Manfred let out a pleased rattle from somewhere upstairs.
“I do know that, my dear,” he said gratefully, “It is just that, I notice on our last few excursions, you have brought myself and Taash along with you most of the time, and Bellara of course when we headed to Arlathan.”
She stiffened in response to the line of questioning, but hoped the Professor wouldn’t notice.
“Are you asking for a break for those old joints of yours?” she joked, a defence mechanism she had honed with years of training. It was such a pity it never seemed to work with her necromancer friend.
“I’m asking why you have suddenly decided not to drag a certain Antivan Crow with you everywhere you go.”
Emmrich was the picture of politeness, but he had one eyebrow slightly raised in challenge. Some of the others didn’t realise just how perceptive he could be. Rook, on the other hand, was all too familiar.
“Lucanis? Well, he certainly doesn’t wish to go everywhere I go,” she chuckled unconvincingly.
“I believe he likely does,” Emmrich murmured, “But go on.”
“We’ve been handling some of the issues for the Mourn Watchers recently, of course I’ve wanted you by my side! And Taash too, with her…axes.. Very useful.”
Emmrich was looking at her like he knew something that she didn’t. It was infuriating.
“We’re all rather useful, I should think,” he mused, “But Lucanis has been cooped up at the Lighthouse for ages, after being your number one choice for weeks. I just thought I should mention it.”
Rather than argue the point anymore, it was the last part that captured Rook’s attention.
“And why did you need to mention it?”
He paused. He very rarely needed to pause in her company to gather his thoughts.
“I imagine you’d wish to know if Luca- if anyone in this team of ours was sulking.”
She wasn’t sure whether her eyes were wide or if she was scowling at the revelation.
“Lucanis is…sulking?”
Emmrich merely nodded.
Granted, her older friend was entirely right. She had been attached at the hip to Lucanis right from the moment she rescued him from that Maker forsaken prison - up until about a week ago. Now, she brought Emmrich and Taash along and wasn’t even rushing off to the pantry every chance she got to check on him.
“Would you like to tell me why?” he said, once it became clear she was lost in her head.
She sighed. Deep, long suffering, as those expected to save the world were wont to do.
“He got hurt,” Rook began, beginning to fiddle with the pages of her book to give her hands something to do, “Last time we were out in Dock Town. This Venatori came out of nowhere behind me and all of a sudden Lucanis is there, taking the hit.”
“Ah. I see.”
“No you don’t see,” she spat back, because her rant had riled her up more than she expected, “He got hurt because he protected me. His instinct was to take on pain that was meant for me . That’s not okay.”
It was Emmrich’s turn to look confused.
“I think a lot of us would take a hit for each other, my dear. I’d gladly do the same, if given the opportunity.”
She softened a little at how genuine he sounded.
“I’d do the same for you, Emmrich,” she assured him, smiling once again, her previous anger at Lucanis dissipated. She knew she was being unfair to her raven-haired crow, an unfairness born out of fondness, but unfair all the same.
“And so the problem is…?”
He really wanted her to say it. To admit the feelings she had hardly admitted to herself, not even backlit by the dim light of her room’s strange fish wall. She merely fixed her companion with a look and stood up from her chair with a sigh, handing her book to a waiting Manfred.
“I’ll talk to him,” she relented, already walking to the door. He called out to her as she left.
“Hold nothing back, dear! Who knows how much time we have with those we care for?”
Her heart did a little pitter patter at that and she rushed back to kiss Emmrich on the cheek before running out of the room, his surprised laughter following her all the way. She raced out into the courtyard, past Assan by the steps and into the kitchen, where Bellara and Neve were chatting by the fireplace.
“Rook! Everything alright?”
“Just need to talk to Lucanis! Don’t mind me,” she said, a little out of breath. She saw the look that passed between the two women, as they inconspicuously decided to continue their conversation back in Bellara’s room.
Straightening up, Rook headed for the pantry door, took a deep breath and knocked three times, as lightly as she ever had. Was part of her hoping he wouldn’t answer?
“Come in,” came the call, so she pushed inside.
“Hi Lucanis,” she said, already sheepish. She saw the way his eyebrows lifted at her presence, saw the way he pushed himself off the wall to stand at attention, “Are you alright?”
He had deep bags under his eyes, a smile that didn’t quite reach the corners and crevices of his face. It was a silly question.
“Fine, thank you,” he said, almost as polite as Emmrich could be, “Do you need me?”
There was a dash of hope in his voice that tugged at her stomach. She had been incredibly unfair to him, she was realising, all because she hated seeing him hurt so much it felt like she couldn’t breathe.
“I was wondering if you’d join me tomorrow,” she said quickly, before she could apologise for the past week, or say any of the things Emmrich would want her to say, “I need to return to the Rivain Coast and I’d appreciate the company.”
Your company. Why couldn’t she say it?
“Of course,” he said, tipping his head in some sort of bow that felt unnecessary, “Wherever I’m needed.”
The light wasn’t quite back in his eyes. She needed to say something else, but what could she say that wouldn’t reveal the depths of her longing? She searched for tepid, lukewarm words.
“Is your shoulder feeling better?”
His hand went to the offending area immediately, rubbing as if he had forgotten about his injury until she mentioned it.
“It was a scratch, Rook,” he insisted, more of a smirk on his face, “No need to worry on my account.”
“Yes, well-“ she flustered, “I do. Worry, that is. On your account. May I see?”
She had almost said too much, if his shining eyes were anything to go by. Sometimes she could look at him and see all her yearning reflected back at her in those deep brown eyes, but they were likely just a pretty colour.
He deftly undid the first few buttons of his shirt and, though she was a woman of fortitude, she felt a little lightheaded. She blamed the fact that he was still holding eye contact with her.
He shrugged the shoulder of his shirt down his arm and turned to allow her to inspect him. Taking a couple of steps forward, she found herself drawn in by tanned skin, corded muscle and a gash that was quite clearly on the mend and not nearly as bad as she’d remembered it.
“Oh,” she breathed, running a finger across the scarring flesh without thinking, “It looks okay.”
“You thought it wouldn’t look okay?” he asked, his thick Antivan accent coated in a teasing edge.
“I didn’t know,” she said quietly, staying serious despite knowing he was smirking in front of her. She ran her finger once more over his back and reveled in the tiny shudder it earned her, “I worry.”
She took a step back and he took the hint, pulling his shirt back on and doing up the buttons as he turned back to face her, matching her solemn tone.
“I do too,” he said, then hesitated as he went to say more, “Rook, is this…?”
But he trailed off. She was getting better at reading him, she thought, but not well enough to read his mind. She leaned back against the nearest wall and watched him mirror her on the other side of the pantry.
“Go on,” she urged him.
“Is this…why I’ve been staying here more often? I don’t mind, I just-” he sighed, clearly not getting his words out as he’d hoped, “Sorry. I just wondered.”
He winced. She wondered how loud Spite was shouting in his head. She wondered on which side of the room Spite was standing. None of these thoughts were ones she could share with the man in front of her.
“You think I’ve been leaving you behind because you hurt your shoulder?” she asked, trying not to sound indignant, “You think you’re getting some kind of preferential treatment? That I’m keeping you safe and warm, tucked up in the Lighthouse so you can’t get hurt?”
Why she’s phrasing all of these facts as questions, she’s not sure. Especially when her interrogative tone has brought a blush to her Crow’s cheeks as he averts his gaze.
“No, of course not. No,” he repeats, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t think that, that’s not what I- not what I meant.”
She’s got to save this. Emmrich sent her here to reassure Lucanis, the man she clearly has a soft spot for, that she still held fondness for him. That she hadn’t dropped him from her inner circle without a second thought. Instead, she was making it worse , Maker help her.
“Lucanis, that’s-” she flounders, but decides her best course of action is sarcasm, “That’s preposterous! What on earth would possess me to worry about you so much , that I can’t fathom the idea of you getting a papercut on your finger. Honestly, for an Antivan Crow, sometimes I wonder about that head of yours.”
She’s laying it on thick, and she knows it. And yet, Lucanis stares at her wide-eyed as if she’s just slapped him.
“Rook, I get it. I’m sorry that I-”
“Honestly! To think that I would worry about you, somebody for whom I care about very deeply .”
That sentence gave away more than she was willing to concede, but she had to do something to make him realise what she was saying, what she was doing. He finally seemed to twig, as his face brightened momentarily, before she watched him try to bite back his smile. She was holding back one of her own, too.
“I am a notorious fool,” he said eventually, just blatantly grinning at her now.
“A fool of great renown,” Rook agreed, grinning back. She pushed off the wall and turned to go, hoping that what she had said was enough for now. If she tried to go any faster with this thing between them, she knew one or both of them would run very far away.
Just as she was about to head through the door with one last (longing) look, he stopped her with a call of her name.
“Rook,” he began, “I’d very much hate to join you, a woman I can no longer imagine my life without, on a trip to Rivain. Please don’t take me with you.”
And she thought her grin couldn’t get any wider. Saying what you mean and meaning what you say had been her motto all her life, but maybe she’d throw caution to the wind if it meant hearing things like that from Lucanis’ mouth.
“We’ll leave after breakfast,” she said simply, allowing them both one more grin at each other before she exited the pantry and tried not to trip over her own feet as she rushed to tell Emmrich how her conversation had gone.