Page 37 of The Pawn

“Well, it’s good.” He stands too tall in the space, tooawkward. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asks. I’m supposed to be resting. It’s an agreement I made with Cassian. No sedatives, no stranger watching over me if I stay in bed.

Truth is, when I startled awake and found Cassian gone, I couldn’t sleep. Truth is, I was scared.

Because on some level and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I feel safer with him beside me. And maybe I believe his vow. Maybe it’s because I want to, or I have to. I have nothing else to hold on to.

“I wanted a cup of tea.” It’s true too, as true as why I woke up. “Where’s Cassian?” I ask.

“Not sure. He’s been handling business while you’ve been sleeping.”

“Ah.” It explains why he looks like he hasn’t slept in days because he hasn’t.

“May I sit?” Jet asks.

“Um…” I untuck my legs from underneath me and scoot over a little because the seat here is an oversized chair that could fit two if you sit thigh-to-thigh.

But Jet doesn’t sit beside me. He sets my teacup on the altar and takes a seat on the edge of the table in front of me. It’s almost more intimate with him like this because his knees are touching mine. But being face-to-face with him like this is unsettling. I clear my throat.

“I have them too,” he says, elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. He must see my confusion because he continues. “The nightmares. I hear you sometimes.”

I feel my face burn and I don’t know how to answer. He reaches out to take my injured hand gently in his. The bandage is smaller now, only covering my lost finger, wrapped around my palm to keep it secure. It doesn’t bleed anymore, but it still hurts. I don’t tell Cassian that part. Iwant the hurt. I want it not to remember, because how could I forget? But to fuel my anger, my rage. I will need it to butcher Malek. I will need it to be a monster. Because I will need to be that to avenge both my mother and myself.

“You hear me?” I ask.

He nods. “I’ve been staying here. My rooms are there.” He gestures in the general area.

I nod. “You lived here once?”

“In a way, I guess. Not officially, but Cassian and I used to be closer.”

“What happened to change that?”

He studies me and I get the feeling he’s trying to decide if he should tell me or not and how much to tell me.

“It’s a long story.”

I shrug a shoulder. “I have nowhere to go.”

“Another time, Allegra. I wanted to tell you something else tonight and he doesn’t usually let you out of his sight so...” There’s a moment, an unfunny laugh before he clears his throat and continues. “You saw my scars. The night I brought you up from the crypt.”

I nod, remembering the marks on his torso.

“I used to have nightmares all the time in the beginning. Less and less now, but they still come.”

“What are they? The scars?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Someone I trusted wanting to teach me people are not trustworthy,” he answers cryptically. “But it was a good lesson to learn. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I wanted to say that now, when they come, when they wake me up, I tell them to go fuck themselves.” He grins, gives me a wink.

I smile, unable not to. “So you basically tell them to fuck off and that works? What happens?”

He shrugs again. “They fuck off. I mean, not always, but my point is it’s a choice every time, Allegra. You have to choose not to succumb to them. You don’t have to be their bitch. It’s up to you.”

My lip trembles.

He shifts his gaze to our hands. I follow it. I want to pull mine away. I remember how horrifying my mother’s hands looked after. For all the shame I feel for that, I want to pull my hands away now. To hide them.

“Stop,” he says, the words quietly spoken, but no less a command.

I look up at him.