4 Princes

XXXI

Rook
I stalked into my father's room, opening the door slowly. He didn't seem surprised to see me when I stepped into it. He was sitting at the edge of his bed, looking down at his half-full glass. There was always a glass with him.

"You're here to kill me, aren't you?" He took a drink of his brandy and set it down on the ground next to his feet. He was right, of course. How he knew was beyond me, but he knew. And just like a glass in his hands, there seemed to always be a sense of wisdom and knowledge with him. He always had been the Wise King, I guess I had just never believed it.

I tried to find something to say but for once, I was speechless. There were no words to mutter, no arguments to be made, no statements to try and hurt him with. Why was I struggling with this? Why did my heart hurt so potently? Because he was my dad? Even in my mind, I had called him dad now instead of father.

Someone came from his bathroom, a girl whose face was covered with light grey fabric. I could still see her shiny blue eyes under the sheer.

I looked the woman up and down. "Perhaps," I responded.

She widened her eyes, watching the scene unravel in front of her. She gave me a fearful look. She took off her headdress and took her hair out of its bun, letting waves cascade down in tangles. She was so scared this time around, but I recognized her still. She was here all those months ago.

I palmed the blade I stole from my own chambers and shoved it under her throat faster than she could breathe. Her eyes flinched tightly and her hand went up to mine, but she did not dare to touch it.

I did not pull the blade back.

"Woman, whatever happens, this night you do not speak of. You did not see Rook, and you did not see me," my father ordered. "Now leave, or the consequences will be this hand tightening under your chin."

The woman opened up her pretty blue eyes and sprinted from the room, holding what I guess I could call a dress up with her hands. My father's doors shut behind her.

I had answered. I was here to kill him. Like the witch said. All for Elaina. This always led back to her. Everything was so insignificant compared to her. My father meant so little compared to her. He knew he was dying, he was old, he needed to die for us to grow. And while that should have been my main justification, it meant only a small fraction of importance compared to the woman I loved.

He laughed and held a hand up and out, a universal sign of surrender. "I'm not going to stop you," he replied.

"What?" I snapped.

"I told you I was going to die. I knew by either you or Jack." He picked his glass up and brought it to his lips, savoring the taste and the burn. "But after you met Elaina, I knew it was going to be you."

"And how did you know that?" I asked, walking around his bedroom. I was stalling. I couldn't do this. This was my father, my trainer, my mentor. He had kept me alive for so long. He gave me a purpose, built the foundations of my purpose, assured the immortality of my purpose.

Or had I kept myself alive for so long? It was him who sent us out to battle, it was him who decided how hard we trained, how little love we received. And it was always us who pulled each other out of it. Jack. Adam. Hera. We did that.

"The witch, Rook. This all goes so much deeper than any of you realize. I told Babar to drag you into the forest," he explained.

I tilted my head to the side, rage fueling my veins. "Do you understand what I experienced!" I screamed. "The things I saw! The things—"

"You saved?" He finished. "The witch struck a deal with you? Did she not? And Hans believes you are dead now, correct?"

I licked the back of my teeth, trying to wrap my head around what was happening. How many steps ahead of us was my father? Time after time again, King Anderson, the Wise King, kept his reputation.