Page 27

To survive the Hollow, you must be the most treacherous of those who inhabit it.

The skeletons were picked clean.

In the meadow, the wildflowers swayed against the thin wolves’ bones.

All manner of creatures had slunk from the Hollow and devoured the unguarded flesh.

I tried not to think about them as I made my way through the pines, toward the Hollow’s most dangerous inhabitant.

The farther I trudged, the more skeletons I found.

It seemed the Hound had been exceptionally bloodthirsty during my escape.

I hadn’t gone far into the thicket when a twig snapped.

I raised my crossbow and pointed behind me.

Only trees and brambles.

I lowered the bow, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I wasn’t alone.

Some foreign presence, different from the whispers and the Watcher, joined me.

Hypervigilant, I trod onward. As I tiptoed around bracken, I went over my plan one last time.

Strapped to my thigh, hidden beneath layers of fabric, was my father’s blade.

Tonight, when Rook was asleep, I’d plunge the dagger into his chest. I’d carve out his heart and bring it to the queen.

Death would not claim Lysander.

As I pushed aside pine boughs, Rook plagued me.

The scar marring his cheek, pulling back into a dimple.

His eyes, like ice, darting to my lips, yearning for them— No!

If anyone had been watching, they might have thought me daft, for how violently I shook the thoughts of Rook away.

I will take the Hound’s heart in repayment for what’s been taken from my family.

I’m not weak; I will not fail again.

Movement rustled the bushes, and I drew my crossbow.

From the shadows, a hulking figure prowled forth.

Here in the grim Hollow, the Hound and I met again.

A beast who refused to devour, and a young woman who refused to pull the trigger.

A sane person would have fled, and any witness to our meeting would surely have been puzzled. But I…I struggled to see the beast.

I saw Rook.

This time, when I lowered my bow, I did not raise it again. As the crossbow came to rest at my side, I swore— I swore —I heard a noise behind me.

Bones snapped and broke as the Hound shrunk and disappeared into the underbrush. The bushes shook, and a naked Rook appeared. Gazing upon me, Rook’s chest heaved. He blinked quickly, as if he couldn’t believe it—as if I were some trick played by the Hollow.

“It’s no trick,” I murmured.

Rook’s face slipped back into the resting scowl he’d worn when I’d first met him. “You came back?” he asked, in a tone as emotionless as granite.

Figuring my presence was answer enough, I simply shrugged in a way that said, ‘Obviously.’ Rook stepped from the shadows. He did nothing to cover his nakedness, and I stared at the canopy above. Rook was motionless, like a sculpture out here in the Hollow.

“How… How are you?” I didn’t know what to say; I hadn’t expected him to be so…

so cold . Rook offered a brief shrug, his face betraying nothing of his feelings.

This wasn’t the person I left. He’s hiding from you , I thought.

Keeping himself safe. Look what happened last time; you ran from him as fast as your feet might carry you. This is a disguise, to keep you at bay.

Had I lost my chance to get close to Rook?

I started forward. Rook took a wary step back. I had to act fast, needed to say something to bring back that trust. “I—I came back to…” I floundered, thinking quickly. Make something up! My mind screamed. But I couldn’t think of anything to say. I shrugged and whispered, “I wanted to see you.”

With one slow blink, Rook closed his eyes.

As if he’d dreamed those very words.

“Your brother?” Rook started. “Does he live?”

A knife of grief twisted my guts. “He… He got better.”

A lie.

Tension eased from Rook’s shoulders, as if he’d received happy news of his own brother. Lowering his voice, Rook wore the shame of confession when he said, “I missed you.”

I closed my eyes, and somewhere far away, heard myself say, “I missed you too.”

Not a lie.

Rook started toward me; a beam of sunlight struggling through the pines banished his mask of shadows. In the light, I saw his crooked smile.

“I figured we’d finish that book,” I said.

Beautiful delight blossomed in Rook, parting his lips in happy surprise. That delight cut deeper than any wound.

Rook reached for me, and I opened up to him. “Ha-ha!” He lifted me and twirled. I clung to his neck and stumbled when he put me down. Rook coughed and quelled his excitement. “Shall we go back?” His face lit with a new emotion, one so foreign in my image of Rook.

Hope.

As we walked, Rook spoke excitedly. “I think I’m on the right track, Lili—I think I can cure it. My affliction.” My stomach fluttered when my nickname poured from Rook. He continued, “Using the fruit itself.” He clasped a fist. “I just need more time.” He side-eyed me.

Making sure I was really there.

The veil came into view, and Rook stopped walking.

“Uh—hold on.” Rook found his discarded clothes and put them back on.

He snapped a suspender over his shoulder, and strolled back to me.

Rook grasped my hands between his rough, calloused fingers.

“Liliwen,” he said, with such emphasis, such passion, I knew he was about to admit something of considerable importance.

“When you first came to me, I didn’t want to be cured, not really.

To me, death was the inevitable cure, the only way to stop me—stop the memories and the nightmares.

” Rook’s Adam’s apple bobbed against his throat.

“Emptiness consumed me. Loneliness that stretched for decades.” I couldn’t look at him—stared only at Rook’s feet. But his confession came, nonetheless.

“You took that away, and you gave me hope.” Rook stooped, forcing me to look. “I want to live, Lili,” he breathed. “And I will fight for it, because of you .”

In silence, I begged Rook cease speaking.

Please, I cannot bear it.

It was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done but…I managed a smile. A tear welled along my lashes, and I didn’t stop it rolling down my cheek. Cupping my face, Rook smudged the tear away. Then, he gave my hand a squeeze and pulled me through the veil.

But not before I had a chance to check behind.

It might have been a trick of the Hollow, but I was certain a figure disappeared into the shadows.

***

In the main hall, thick boards covered the door to the courtyard. Rook bound up the stairs, taking them four and five at a time.

“Come to me, Liliwen,” Rook’s voice called.

“Pardon me?” I halted on the stairs.

Rook turned, wearing a, ‘What gives?’ look.

“I’m not a dog,” I snapped. “I don’t come when I’m called.”

Confusion muddled Rook’s face. “I didn’t say anything.”

I opened my mouth to disagree—

“Liliwen,” Rook’s haunted voice called, despite Rook standing in front of me, mouth closed. The voice floated from below the stairs. It begged me to come to the courtyard, to the fruit.

“Uh…nothing.”

I joined Real-Rook upstairs. He maneuvered around piles of finery he’d looted from the rooms. I picked up a golden goblet and examined my reflection in a topaz the size of a walnut.

“Redecorating?”

Rook hesitated over a heap of silverware.

“Well, I started thinking I might actually find a cure, and I might leave this place.” He rubbed his neck.

“You know, I think about them, every night. The people the Hound killed.” He picked up a spoon, which had recently been polished.

“This won’t bring loved ones back, but perhaps, if families lost those who provide for them… ”

Seeing himself in the polished spoon, a look came over Rook, like he might be ill.

“It’s a stupid idea,” he murmured, dropping the spoon. “To try and bribe forgiveness for the lives the Hound took.” I looked at the first pile, looming high with golden chalices and fabrics.

The pile meant for my family.

“Do you remember the first person the Hound killed?” I asked.

“It was the hardest… I— the Hound couldn’t finish the job.

The man got away, but his injuries were severe; he couldn’t have survived.

” Rook walked away; I chased him. “Only a handful of people have escaped the Hound. Two, maybe three. They plague my nightmares, that they weren’t awarded a swift death.

Their suffering must have been immeasurable. ”

I’d always believed the Hound killed people because it was an evil beast beset by an uncontrollable thirst for blood, a monster with no conscience or regard for human life.

But, as much as I hated to admit it, I knew that wasn’t Rook.

“Why do you—the Hound—why does the Hound kill people?” Rook bristled.

“The Hound can subsist on animals, right? The blood of calves, and other livestock? So, why does the beast kill people ?”

“It just…happens.” Rook anxiously spun the cuff at his wrist. “I—I don’t…” Rook trailed off. “Can we finish that book, please? I think it’ll help me make sense of a few things.”

“Uh, sure.”

He was already walking toward his room. “Hold on,” he called, and I waited. When he returned, Rook handed me a small wooden object. “I thought of you, when I made this.”

A raven, carved in light cherry wood.

Rook pointed and said, “For your hair.” I turned the raven over, and indeed, there was a hole in the back where a braid might pass through. The crafting was meticulous; each feather was carved with such precision, such care.

“I was only gone one night,” I whispered, examining the hair piece. Even Lysander, who’d been whittling since he was five, would be hard-pressed to craft a trinket so fine.

“I thought of you often,” Rook replied. “May I?” He took the raven, and I turned so he might slide it in place. When he finished, he grasped my hand. Leading me to the library, he said, “When you left, I felt agony and hope.”