The Way We Fall

Chapter 124 (Tigris)

Roche was eerily quiet when she woke Tigris up early in the morning. She remained somber and despondent, ignoring all of Tigris' usual teases and attempts at drawing her into conversation. It was only when she laced up the back of Tigris' latest celebration gown did Roche gruffly ask, "When is Verita set to be released?"

Tigris' chest tightened uncomfortably, and it wasn't because of how tight Roche was currently pulling the strings of the back of the dress' corset back. Tigris bit back a wince, trying to catch Roche's gaze in the mirror.

"We don't know yet. She still needs to be interrogated," she said as gently as she could. Roche never responded well to the brusque, warm but gruff treatment she gave the knights.

Roche pulled the laces on Tigris' dress hard enough to elicit a grunt.

"It's unjust!" Roche exclaimed breathlessly, like words had been compressing her lungs. She pinned Tigris with a harsh look, "She's an old woman who has served this kingdom faithfully for years! She doesn't deserve torture!"

Tigris swallowed, unease curling in her stomach. She fought to keep her composure as she quietly said, "Roche... we found the inkblood vial in her chambers. She was going to implicate you."

Roche's eyes burned with fury. She pulled away like her fingertips burned at the touch of Tigris' skin.

"You can't possibly believe that," Roche whispered, her voice harsh, "She was trying to protect me! The real inkblood is that witch of a woman you're going to call your stepmo-"

"Roche!" Tigris interjected curtly. Roche's throat bobbed and she stepped back, looking so torn and forlorn that Tigris couldn't help but feel a stab of pity. If anyone else had said those words, she would have sent them to the dungeons.

But Tigris knew how much Verita had meant to Roche.

"This is hard for all of us," Tigris told Roche, trying to keep her voice soothing and low. To her surprise, emotion made her eyes burn. She couldn't believe Verita would betray them all this way. "She practically raised me, this pains me as well. But we can't deny the facts. She possessed inkblood. She was corrupted by its power and nearly implicated you for it."

Roche remained stonily silent as she carefully curled Tigris' hair, none too gently. Tigris cleared her throat, discomfort grating against her skin. Roche didn't look at her, didn't say another word. She merely curtsied stiffly when she was done. From her expression and silence, it was clear she didn't believe Tigris or the king's claims for that matter.

Tigris felt doubt stir within her. She couldn't agree with Roche aloud, she couldn't give the maid false hope, but she had to agree that Verita's betrayal seemed totally out of character.

That's what inkblood does. It corrupts someone beyond their character, a more logical part of Tigris' mind warned her. But a niggling seed of doubt reminded her of the pacifist covens who worshipped all things ink. Despite the trials and tribulations Tarak and Orpheus had put her through, Tigris couldn't condemn them as corrupted. Perhaps there was a limit, a certain volume of ink you could inject in your veins before becoming corrupt. Had Verita reached that limit?

"My lady?" Roche's flat voice cut through Tigris' thoughts. Tigris cleared her throat, cheeks heating.

"Right. I have no need of your services today, and since I doubt you want to be around Lady Lisa at the moment, I'm going to dismiss you to catch up on the chores you've delayed. Particularly my laundry. My training leathers need a wash too."

"Of course," Roche muttered, "God forbid the day that your training leathers don't smell like roses."

Tigris whacked the back of the maid's head, but she was relieved that Roche was at least bantering back with her. "I'm the princess, you bumbling idiot. I have to smell good at all times!"