The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 21

Cloak hasn't put on a happy face every time he notices I'm in the same room. Over these days, he ignores and avoids my presence as much as he can, so I have resorted to appearing out of nowhere to trap him in conversation. Nothing casual, I don't have time for casual.

He isn't in his chambers when I come searching for him. Since he wasn't in the courtyard merely minutes ago, I'm left to believe he ventured into the kitchens for an early supper. His schedule eludes me, but the last piece of parchment I have is dedicated towards his daily life at the palace. Most of the time, he's training in the courtyard or hiding in his chambers, but a couple of nights a week, he doesn't reside here at all. The city takes him in with open arms and doesn't spit him back out until the next morning. I've gotten past worrying.

When I enter the dining hall, I spot him from across the room. His shoulder angles towards the window he stares at, daydreaming towards the quad and the possible training he could be undergoing rather than eating. At least he doesn't see me.

He doesn't notice I'm in the room until I plop down in the chair opposite his and slap my stack of paperwork onto the wooden table. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye and has the audacity to growl behind a chunk of bread clutched between his fingers.

Shifting himself further towards the window, nearly turning his back to me, Cloak has reached an all-time low. I roll my eyes at his failure to get away from me while sitting at the same table. The black shirt hugging his abdomen isn't a disguise; he can't turn himself invisible in that way or any other. If I wanted to, I have the ability.

Under his breath, he continues to grumble like an old, grumpy man. Technically, that is what he is.

I don't bother waiting around for him to speak first. Making casual conversation has proved to be a failure in the past; words without meaning make it easier for him to leave.

"I know what happened in the war," I begin in a harsh tone to catch his distracted attention. "I know what you had to do to those Luminary children, too."

It pains me to put myself in that place of imagining their fate. At that moment, too many young Luminaries lost their lives. I possess the same power. The queen wishes to kill me for having something I didn't want in the first place, yet I'm the one that receives the chance to survive while innocent children had to die.

I can't hate Cloak for what he had to do. Clearly, the decision weighs on his shoulders more than it does the queen's.

His stare snaps over to me, eyes blazing with the beginning of confused rage. "How did you figure that out?" Dropping the bread to point a finger at me, he adds, "Who told you?"

"The queen."

He mumbles obscenities underneath his breath and braces his hands against the table, preparing himself to stand.

I reach across the table and take hold of his hand. That freezes him in his spot. "She wants to help you, Cloak. That's why she gave me that information; because she wants to see you back to your normal self."

My words give him the strength to snatch his hand away. He towers over me, clutching that warm hand into a fist. I felt the rough ridge of the scars and calluses on the back, discovered the grainy terrain of dry skin against the bare tips of my fingers wrapping around his palm. "You have no right to meddle in my life. If you try again, if you even think of furthering this or telling anyone what you've discovered, I will send you so far into the Void Territory that you'll go blind in seconds."

I don't know what to say to that. There isn't a worse threat in Rivian than to force someone into the Void Territory. We don't understand everything that goes on there underneath the Void Queen's rule, and it's the most dangerous territory of them all. Death occurs more often than life blossoms, and magic rules all corners.

Cloak storms off, leaving a half-empty plate of food across the table. My stomach rumbles, but I won't take the food that doesn't belong to me. If anything, I've lost my appetite. A few stares slide towards me from other members in the dining hall after overhearing Cloak's protests. Their whispers draw a blotchy embarrassment to my face, but I won't bother following Cloak to save him and myself.

I'm not making any progress. That realization threatens to tear me to shreds, and I'm forced to swallow down the tears until I can get back to my room and unleash them in silence. Cloak must work out his anger on his own; I'll only fuel the fire to his rage if I try to console him for a second time today.

Over the following days, I receive nothing out of him. Not the slightest bit of information that'll help resolve deep-rooted struggles. I believe he's happy living this way, swallowed by his own doubts, that I back off. I wonder if he has always behaved in such a matter and his mother is barely noticing after years and years of his malpractice.

By a week and a half, my notes don't stretch farther than what I gathered in the first couple of days. Cloak locks the doors to his chambers and avoids me in the halls. He trains at night and ventures into the city to get away, a place he knows I won't go by myself. Even Gav and Keaya are ordered to stay away from me, though the former has other ideas with casual smiles and whispers of apologies about ignorance.

I spend most of my free time—nearly all day—nestled within my room. On occasion, I'll venture into the library and read about Rivian's history or Luminary origins. Nothing is definite; the truth smudges with opinion the farther I look back, and by that time, my eyes are burning and I need to rest with the sun's setting.

I'm still in danger of losing my life. After this, I still have three intervals, but if they follow the same route of these two weeks, I won't survive. As I close the door to my room and press my back against the splintered wood, the clutches of parchment in my grasp don't matter anymore. They slide to the floor in a misshapen pile and I clamp a hand over my mouth to allow my built-up emotions to escape.

The only thing carrying me over these next few days will be the thought of seeing Castiel again. I must hold on to the realization that all is not over yet.