“Mock?”
“He had this droopy face my mother claimed was constantly making fun of her. Even when he was a puppy.”
“Ah.”
Roland tipped his head back, considering the fading stars. They looked a bit like his mother, actually. Or that was just him. She had hair like his, but her eyes were pale blue, like faded stars.
“She was beautiful,” he said softly. “And powerful. Strong willed. She didn’t want me to go with my father, but when the king wants his son, he takes him.”
“Did you hate your father for that?’
“Do you hate your father for making you a mobster?”
Killian didn’t respond and Roland looked up at him. “I see you, when you think no one is looking. You tip well, you chuck money into the beggars' pots, hell, most people wouldn’t put up with half the shit Opie goes around doing.”
“Shit, Roland, before I know it, you’ll be telling me I’m a good man.”
Roland snorted. “Yeah, well I doubt that. You did kill your sister.”
“Ah, yes. The paper between us. Where did you even find that, may I ask?”
“Wasn’t so hard to find. If they’d had more evidence, you’d be behind bars.”
“Is that where you think I belong?”
“Did you kill your sister?”
Killian looked out at the sea, quiet for a moment, thinking for a while. His features were indistinct from this angle, cast in the shadows. If Roland were a guessing man, he’d say Killian was frowning.
“No, I didn’t,” he said after some while. “I helped her escape, but I didn’t kill her. Couldn’t kill her.”
“Then why let me blackmail you?”
Killian looked down at him in surprise, eyes visible once again, though still, it was too dark for him to properly see them for blue; they merely looked black. “Blackmail me?”
“Yeah, by threatening to tell the Red League you killed your sister…”
“Roland, they know I didn’t kill her.”
“Then why?”
“Why did I let you come along with me?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, baffled.
Killian shrugged off his coat and said, “My prince, I don’t know half the things I do,” then dove into the ocean.
Chapter 17
“What the fu—” was Roland’s cry, before Tiana hit the water and couldn’t hear him at all. Her thoughts churned, fighting between bewilderment at her own actions and the sweet, chilly liberation of the water in the bay.
She swam, squinting through the dim haze of alcohol, searching for the glint of Roland’s sword. The waters here were not very deep and within moments she had her fingers around the hilt and she was dragging it up behind her as she ascended.
She broke the surface, grinning, up at the startled, worried, idiotic face of the man, the witchress, idiot, prince she loved.
Treading water she held up his sword. He ignored it, getting on his stomach and reaching out with one strong, muscular hand. “Forget the sword,” he ordered. “Grab my hand.”
“I didn’t go for a swim so I could hold your hand,” she said. “Take the sword before I drown. Then help me out.”
Roland, smart enough to realize the gangster in the water wouldn’t have it any other way, cursed low and efficiently, grasped the flat edge of the sword and relieved Tana of holding it. He chucked it over his shoulder, not so much as inspecting the clatter, before already throwing his hand back to her.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
“If the sword falls back in because you didn’t secure it properly, I am not jumping after it again.”
“Give me your damn hand!”
Tiana gave it to him, impressed as all hell, and warmed in more places than one, when he dragged her out of the water and set her down on the roof once more.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. “You don’t swim when you’re drunk, you imbecile.”
Tiana pushed the limp hair out of her face. “Not everyone is as drunk as you, princeling.”
“You—”
“Shut up, the sun’s coming up,” Tiana said pushing his face—which was scratchy—so he could, in fact, see the sun splitting the horizon. “Have some respect.”
And there it was, the beautiful fiery thing.
Tiana sighed, relaxing back against the roof. Sprays of light soared over the water, glittering in the water, orange and pink with morning light. She tilted her nose in the air, drawing in the smell of crisp ocean and chilly wind.
“How did you even find this place?” asked Roland.
Tiana looked at him, smiling softly because he wasn’t looking at her, entranced by the sunset. His eyes were wide, child-like and young in the ways she was beginning to suspect he hadn’t had much time being. From what she knew of the King Solia, his father, he was a greedy man clinging to his throne during the war years. Years Roland himself had to fight in, even after his father died and his brother left the battlefront to assume the throne.
“I used to come here with my br—with my sister,” said Tiana, only barely catching herself, too distracted and softened by Roland. The light was playing in his hair, spilling pink morning on the white strands. He’d stopped on their way here and dumped water on his head, scowling as the mud washed out. He’d merely, childishly muttered, “I don’t like it,” and then that, was that.
That was around the time, and not when he was singing lewd ballads with Asha—whom Tiana had not seen that inebriated in some while—that she realized how poorly her prince held his liquor.
She wanted to reach out and touch him now. She wanted to pull him close, have him hold her, have him press a kiss to her hair. It was hard, she realized, being so close to him and yet being so far. Tonight she was jealous of Killian, of herself, for seeing a side of this man which she was not meant to know. Which she was not allowed to see. Tomorrow she’d meet him in the castle and she’d have to pretend she had never seen him, his cheek on the table, laughing until he cried at something stupid Opie had said. She would have to lie to him; lie to herself and pretend that she knew him when she didn’t, not the way she wanted to. She wanted, as Tiana, to know him like this. She wanted him to know it was her who dove into the ocean for his sword, who knew he once had a dog called Mock and loved his mother.
But she couldn’t.
Instead, she’d put Killian in between them.
She wasn’t lying. It hadn’t been blackmail which had persuaded her to let him come along. Not really. No one really thought Tiana was dead, only pretended they did. Only believed for the sake of everyone else that Killian de Rossi may very well have killed his sister. And it was what had tipped her brother over the edge.
It had been a messy thing; Killian had come home one day, blood on his hands and tears in his eyes covered in powdery drugs and smelling like the sewer.
“I killed her, Tiana,” he’d whispered. “I killed her.”
And she’d shaken him and asked him again and again, who, who? But he hadn’t been able to say. Then their father had come in, had seen him, had yelled at Killian, but Killian couldn’t speak. He only said the guards knew he did it, they were after him. They had to be.
But they never came, and in the morning, Killian had gone up to the Captain of the Guard and turned himself in, said he’d murdered his sister.
They couldn’t hold him, there was no body, only what he was saying, and their father, unwilling to let them take his son away and put him in a quiet place where he couldn’t hurt anyone, paid the guard to write a death certificate. They chalked it up to natural causes, but they let word slip out that they all knew he’d done it.
Days after, Tiana had snuck into Killian’s room and lay beside him, curled up to his chest, holding each other, both only seventeen, and he told her, “I’m leaving, Ana. I can’t be here, I can’t. Not like this.”
She promised him they could fix it.
He said he couldn’t be fixed.
After her father had s
ent her away, Tiana got a letter from Killian saying he’d left too. And everything else became what it was now.
“What the hell are you doing, Roland?” she demanded, startled out of her thoughts by a hand on her face, a thumb spooning away a tear.
“I—I’m not sure,” he said, equally as startled. His brows crushed together in confusion. “You just...you look like someone I know, and I couldn’t stand to see you cry.”
Tiana batted his hand away, laughing to hide how much this unnerved. It was foolish to have jumped in the water, what if her makeup had come entirely off? And the sun, the sun would be up soon, it’d be light, and the day would hide nothing as well as she needed.
“Pull it together, soldier,” she chided, standing up. “You don’t want to prove gangsters can outlast soldiers, would you, hmm?”
Roland drew his hand away and managed a hazy smirk which sent things careening wildly through Tiana. “You wouldn’t believe my endurance, boy.”
Tiana grinned, wobbly as her thighs clenched.
“I don’t doubt it.”
“I think I’m going to sleep,” he said suddenly, stretching out on the roof like a giant cat. “I had a full night.”
Tiana, amused, backed away slowly.
“Yeah,” she said. “You do that. Night, Roland.”
But he didn’t hear her. He was already asleep, his sword at his side as the sun began to earnestly climb.
Chapter 18
“How the hell did you manage to get a burn that bad?” Niki demanded, staring openly at Roland’s left side of his face. “And gods man, you smell awful!”
“Shut up,” Roland mumbled, his head pounding as Niki leaned closer to his face. “Is that dirt in your hair?”
“And puke,” said Gerod, shaking his head as he tied his boots.
“Speak again and I’ll make you run through the city for warm up,” he growled at Gerod, whose usually taciturn face cracked with a twitch of his mouth.
“Did Tiana do this to you? Did you two have a party I wasn’t invited to? Oh man, if so I’m gonna to be pissed.”
“Why the hell would we invite you?”
“Come on, Tiana loves me.”
“I’m fairly certain she doesn’t,” grumbled Roland. “Because I hate you.”
“Wounds deep, my friend. Wounds real deep. No need to be sour me and your best girl are friends. Don’t you want your best friend and your woman to be chums?”
“Who the hell said you were my best friend?”
“Well, it’s either me or Gerod and no one even likes him.”
“Oi!”
“Sorry, Gerod,” said Niki sympathetically. “But it’s true. Yanner told me so.”
“There’s a reason you’re single,” groused Gerod, leaving them in the bunkhouse, shaking his head.
“It’s because you still haven’t introduced me to your sister!” Niki hollered after him, earning a glare from Roland.
“Nikolas if you don’t shut your mouth and stop talking, I’m going to—”
“Tiana!” cried Niki, holding his enormous arms open to the woman at the door.
Tiana winced. “Why are you screaming?”
“So you two did have a party without me! Ha!”
Roland scowled. “We did not.”
“Liar!”
“Niki, shut up,” snapped Tiana. “Or I will maim you.”
Niki considered this, eyeing her up and down. “Not in a fun way?”
“Not unless you like bleeding out,” she said menacingly.
“Huh, I believe someone’s calling my name,” said Nik, edging past Tiana, who glowered at him as he went, though amusement played at the corners of her mouth. “Nice seeing you, T.”
“You, too.”
“Coming!” Niki shouted to nobody, just to be a dick as he slammed the door behind him.
Tiana groaned. “Where does Nik sleep, so I can find him and kill him in the night?”
“You’d actually have to be around at night to do that,” muttered Roland.
Tiana’s eyebrow went up. “Oh, are you going to be annoying too?”
He scowled at her. “I’m not annoying.”
She crossed her arms. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“What do you want, Tiana?”
She studied him for a moment, eyes darkening. “Obviously to go fuck myself.”
Roland sighed. “Wait. I’m sorry.” He rubbed his face, surprised she was still standing there, though her expression was less than inviting. “I’m just supremely hungover.”
“You’re hungover? Oh, poor baby.” She turned, flinging open the door and stalking out.
Roland sighed, cursing his headache profusely, before jogging after her.
“Tiana, wait!”
She whirled on him, finger in his face, he reared back from the venom stewing in her eyes.
“I am not in the mood, Roland. I really am not. I am exhausted and don’t have the slightest bit of time for a tantrum.” Her lip quivered and Roland, for all his shitty feelings, felt guilt as though the feeling itself had originated in him.
She was incredibly pale and those patches underneath her eyes, gods, they were enormous. Her cheekbones were filed to cutting edges, and the bun she had her hair in was strict and so un-Tiana like, it unnerved him most of all.
“Tiana,” he said softly. “Are you alright?”
She considered him for a moment, biting her lip as if to stop any more potential quivering. Her eyes were bloodshot and the slightest bit watery, and when Roland stepped a bit closer, a bit more confident she wouldn’t thrust her hand into his chest and end his life, he saw just how puffy they were.
Wordlessly, Roland collected her to his chest, holding her tight, his heart dipping as wetness touched through his shirt, her hands twisting in the fabric across his back.
He noticed some of the men craning their necks to look at them and he nearly snarled, all of them snapping their necks trying to look away fast enough.
He made eye contact with Niki last, who jerked his head toward the castle.
It didn’t take much more to convince him to do just that.
“Let’s go inside,” he murmured. “We can go to my rooms. No one’ll be up in the Royal Wing.”
“I don’t need to be coddled,” she muttered, rubbing her bleary eyes and pushing off of him to muster a less than convincing glare.
“I can get pies sent up?” he suggested. “We didn’t get any last time.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “And the coddling?”
“You shall not be coddled, my lady.”
Roland almost felt as if it might simply be better to sling her over his shoulder and make her come with him. She looked far too hard like she was still trying not to cry and it bothered him he didn’t know or understand why. He didn’t think pushing her would get him anywhere, even though every limb in his body roared that it was precisely what he should be doing.
After some time she nodded and agreed to follow him. Without another word, he went on, her trailing behind him. He thought several times until they got to his rooms about reaching a hand back to her and seeing if she’d hold it, but he was too bothered to think what he would feel if she didn’t. If she spurned his reaching hand.
He propped open the door to his chambers for her, to which she walked by him, hugging herself as she took in the large room, quietly considering the stack of books she’d left there.
“Those’ll get late demerits,” she said.
“I know someone on the inside who might be able to get me out of them.” He leaned against the door frame, watching her back as she took in everything of the room they’d spent a week in together, her roasting him alive and bringing him back to life.
“I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever see,” he said softly, secretly delighted by the surprise opening her tired face as she turned to him.
“When?”
“When I was lying in that bed, writhing in pain and you glared at me through the stupor.
Those great, glittering black eyes.”
“Glittering makes me sound menacing.”
Roland chuckled. “Well, then the word fits perfectly.”
He detached himself from the frame, closing the door behind him. He moved towards her slowly, cautiously as she eyed him suspiciously.
“What’s wrong with your face?” she asked. “Why’s it like that?”
“I believe some people call it concern.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Knock it off. I’m fine.”
“I don’t care for liars,” he said, pulling her robes so she came into the circle of his arms, she glared up at him, but once again was biting her cheek, her nostrils flaring, trying to hold in tears he could see filling her eyes in that depthless, sparkling ocean. “While tears gather, she still glares. You are an amazing woman, Tiana.”
A tear slipped out, but she still chuffed a short, incredulous sound of amusement through her nose. “You’re an idiot,” she said.
“I know,” he said, leaning down, his forehead against hers.
Her eyes shut and she shuddered beneath his hands, his palms rubbing against her spine.
He watched her as more tears leaked out, splashing across those dark bruises.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Tiana. Please, you’re killing me.”
“It’s just...you smell so bad.” He snapped away from her, staring at the tiny smile, even though there were still tears. “When was the last time you bathed, Roland?”
“When was the last time you slept?” he asked, a bit more harshly than intended, but startled and a bit annoyed by the fact she wasn’t taking him seriously. His arms dropped from her and he took a step back, crossing his arms and trying to drown his rage. He knew she was being defensive, hell, he got it, but gods if it didn’t get his goat.
He knew neither of them spent much time talking about themselves but it never felt as if she were blocking him, or him her, it just felt as though they intrinsically understood one another, even if they hadn’t explained it all in words.
Maybe he had been wrong.
Silence swam in the gulf between them, and Roland was trying to focus on his breathing and squandering the panic in his chest. He’d let it go too quickly, she probably didn’t feel the same way he did, not the same level. To her it might have been just all physical, they’d never spoken about it, never defined anything, gods, she might’ve just thought they were friends with a bit of fun. Just a fling with a prince. Just—
Deception: Rogues of the Red League, Book 1 Page 13