Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn't be waiting another twelve days for Bloodhound! It's very hard being patient. Tortall and all of the characters belong to Tamora Pierce, even if I wish I could have Beka and Rosto to play with forever.... And I also do not own the snippet from the song below. It belongs to Skillet and their label. A/N: Yup, I'm back with another short story! I really love this one, for all it's angsty - it has a different kind of Rosto than the one I usually write, so it was rather...interesting to write in general (and there is a reason, if he does somehow slip out of character for any reason whatsoever. I got the idea for this one from watching Jane Eyre with my best friend, and listening to Falling Inside the Black by my favorite band, Skillet. One of the parts that heavily inspired the whole thing is right below. With that, I shall let you read it. Reviews make me very happy, and might just encourage a faster update than a week. So, don't forget to review!
I'm falling in the black
Slipping through the cracks
Falling to the depths
Can I ever go back
Dreaming of the way it used to be
Can you hear me
- Falling Inside the Black, Skillet
I can't wait to get home, Beka Cooper thought to herself. After checking on the young passenger in front of her, she nudged the horse into a trot. She was eager to return to Corus, and not only because it meant returning to normal Dog work.
She wanted to see her friends. She wanted to tease Ersken, chat with Kora and Aniki, but there was one thing she wanted to do most of all. She wanted to give Rosto his chance. She had done a lot of thinking and soul-searching during her flight towards the desert to rescue the prince.
Now it seemed right to do just that. Rosto had made it abundantly clear that he had feelings for her and would give anything to be able to call her his own. She had to admit, she had seen the way he looked at her. It was different from the way she had seen him look at any other mot, even Aniki when he had been with her. The light in his eyes mirrored the look Beka had seen in the eyes of Herun Lofts the day after his rescue when he had looked at Tansy.
That was what she wanted: to be with someone she knew loved her, really loved her. Even if he was the Rogue, he would have his chance for however long it worked. Despite the fact that some part of her knew that it wouldn't work, that she and Rosto could never truly be together while he was the Rogue, she still felt that it was right, somehow.
Anything closer than a vague friendship was supposed to be destined to fail. Maybe it was. Beka had already decided that it no longer mattered to her. She would deal with the consequences when they came. If they came, she corrected herself. There was always a chance that it would work out for them.
That night, with her head pillowed on her hands, she fell asleep thinking of Rosto and what she would say to him when she returned.
That same night, the Court of the Rogue was a noisy affair. Rosto the Piper leaned against the arm of his throne, watching the goings on of his Court. He let out a sigh and shifted in his seat, obviously less than happy.
Not only were his Unicorn and Flash District chiefs nowhere to be seen when he had ordered them to attend his Court, but he missed Beka. She had been gone for almost six months, and Rosto was desperately lonely without her. He was also getting jealous of their housemates. Kora had Ersken, and Aniki had Phelan, but Rosto was alone, as he had remained since he and Aniki had broken it off. At least when Beka was there, he wasn't the only one who was single. Even if she didn't want to be his, at least he could share his misery with her.
Aniki glanced at him, then back at the crowd gathered in the Dancing Dove. Rosto ran a hand over his pulled-back white-blond hair, smoothing any stray strands that had somehow escaped his horsetail. His hand fell to the fabric of the navy blue shirt he wore as he shifted and rested his elbow on the armrest of his throne.
Movement in the corner caught his eye. A bright flash of color made his head turn. His void-colored gaze landed on a shrewish cove in the corner, who was swiftly hiding something in a loose, ratty tunic.
Rosto snapped his fingers and pointed. Almost instantly, a pair of rushers dragged the cove from his obscure spot in the corner. They threw him down in front of Rosto's throne, then relieved him of the items he had been handling. A vial of florescent orange liquid, a thin, weighted dagger, and a list of instructions.
No one had to guess what the orange fluid was. It was apparent even to the most stone-drunk rushers. Poison. No other substance had the acid-bright colors poison like that did. The cove had tried to kill – assassinate, rather – the Rogue. And by the look of it, he hadn't gotten as far as he had without some help at the very least.
Rosto rose from his throne, taking a step forward and folding his arms over his chest as he looked down at the cove, who had been forced to kneel in front of him. Rosto's face was chilling and merciless as he looked down at the Rat who had made an attempt, though it was far from succeeding, to take his life from him.
"Who sent you?" Rosto asked, his voice low and threatening. The cove shook his head. "I may be kind and let you live if you tell me who it was that asked you to kill me," he added softly. The cove stared at him, unsure for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak. He had barely gotten a word out when a mage mark flared on his hand and he collapsed, instantly dead from the effects of the spell.
Rosto cursed, fury twisting his face. An instant later, he felt a blade bury itself in the back of his shoulder. He yelped in pain even before he felt fire begin to spread from the wound. He jerked his arm back out of reflex, and the knife came free. It clattered to the ground, the red of Rosto's blood covering more than half of it. There, on the silver blade, just above the blood, was a droplet of an unnatural lavender-colored liquid.
Moments later, when his world was being enclosed by blackness at the edges, Rosto realized what was going on. The shrewish cove had been a distraction. The real assassin was just waiting for his chance, using another vial of fast-acting poison to bring down his prey.
Then Rosto's world came crashing down and met the dark.
He came to hours later. His head ached and his mouth was as dry as a desert. He opened his eyes to complete darkness, trying to remember what had happened. A soft groan escaped him unnoticed. A cool hand touched his face, making him jerk away.
"Shh, Rosto, it's alright. Relax, it's just me." It was Kora's voice. He would recognize her voice anywhere after knowing her for so long.
"What happened?" He asked in a scratchy voice. He moved his head, wondering why it was so dark. Surely she would have lit a candle if it was that late at night.
"Someone tried to kill you, Rosto. You almost died. A healer counteracted the poison that was on the blade that hit you. It was almost too late to save you by the time she got here. There are side-effects, though," she said quietly. Rosto could hear the sympathy in her voice, the pity. He did not like that.
"Kora, tell me what's wrong. Tell me why it's so dark." There was a long pause, as if she did not want to speak. "Kora?"
"You're blind, Rosto." It took a long moment for that to sink in. He was blind, he couldn't see. That was why it was so dark.
"Oh," was all he could say. He couldn't think of anything else.
"I am so sorry, Rosto, but your life was in danger. We had to make the choice. Your sight, or your life…" She tried to explain. Rosto raised a hand and reached out in her direction, effectively silencing her. She placed her hand in his. He squeezed.
"I know. Just let it alone. It's not your fault, Kora," he said. He closed his eyes again before moisture could form there, and went back to sleep, praying that it was just a dream.