Disclaimer: It isn't mine...it all would have gone differently if it was mine...
A/N: So, I've obviously finished Bloodhound, and I will say that I'm not as pleased as I thought I would be with it...but it's acceptable, and I won't start off on a rant about it. But, since there wasn't nearly enough Rosto in it (and Lioness was not pleased about that, for sure), I have written a missing moment based on what Ersken said on page 469 - "Rosto's heard you made a good, um, friend here. He's as mad as a bear with a thorn in his...paw." I just couldn't pass it up, and I was planning a Rosto moment even before I got to that one. I've got another one coming for the end of the book, but all the same, I couldn't resist writing this one. Don't forget to review!
"She did WHAT?!?" A furious shout sounded from the Dancing Dove. It was followed by an almost unintelligible bellow of 'Get out!' Anyone who heard the sound cringed, but none more so than inside the building. The roar was followed by the smack of a solid object hitting flesh and angry footsteps. The next sound to follow was that of a door slamming.
Below, five other people stood in the building. It was late, not too long after Rosto had dismissed the Court of the Rogue. Four of those people were his friends – Aniki, Kora, Phelan, and Ersken. The last was a runner he had sent to Port Caynn to bring him word of the goings on and rumors at to the false silver in the markets.
What he had heard had not pleased him, and it had nothing to do with the silver coles. It had everything to do with what he had heard of Beka. Apparently, the whole port knew that she had taken up with the bank courier, Dale Rowan. A bank courier!
Rosto was absolutely and beyond furious. Papers fluttered to the floor, having been ripped from the spine of the book he had been reading only moments before. The binding and intact pages lay on the floor, not a foot from the runner who had been hit with the book.
The instant the runner had gotten through that part of the report on rumor gathering, Rosto's eyes had flashed with blazing fury. Not that any of them blamed him for it – they had not expected Beka to just give herself away like that to a cove she had known for scarcely two weeks.
It had hit Rosto the hardest of all, though. The blind fury had only been the first of what had washed over him. The image of the Rogue's handsome face twisted in white-hot rage was burned into everyone's mind. His friends knew why he was so upset by this. For all he tried to keep it to himself, he genuinely cared about Beka, even more than he even cared about Aniki, who he had known for several years. Moreover, he loved her. Not that he would ever admit it as long as she continued to refuse him.
He was angry with Beka, angry with himself, and angry at this Dale Rowan, who had the brass to take her from him. She wasn't even his, and Rowan had taken her. The runner fled, scared out of his nerves by the young Scanran. The others knew that Rosto would regret it in the days to come. The folk on the streets would say he was a savage because of it. They considered most Scanrans as such, but if that roar had had anything to do with it…well, Rosto would have a lot of work to do before they would forget it.
Rosto flung himself on his bed; his pale skin was flushed bright red and his mouth was tight with anger. He crossed his arms roughly over his chest, and stared at the wall, only to rise seconds later and pace back and forth in the room he had very recently moved into at the Dove.
Mentally, he was cursing Rowan – and Beka herself, for what she had unwittingly done to him. She had absolutely ruined him as the Rogue. He couldn't think of anyone but her when he was with any other mot. Nothing could give him rest from the way her touch, be it accidental or intentional contact, that set the skin beneath it on fire. Nor the light in her eyes when she was among friends, or the way she laughed. He wanted to make her laugh like that, to be the reason she laughed.
All he really wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her, to hold her safe and never let her go. He hated it. Hated it, and hated what she had done to him. He hated that he could never have her, too. Every time she had turned him down, whether he had been joking with her, or completely serious, it made him more confused and chased him to find a new conquest who could actually take his mind away from Beka. It never helped. It probably never would. And it just made the torture she inflicted on him even worse.
'Why, Mithros, Trickster, have I been led to this?' he cried mentally, banging a fist on the closest wall. 'Was I led here just to be tormented by what I can't have, the deepest desire of my heart?'
"It isn't bloody fair!" he hissed, smacking the flat of his other hand against the door to his room, creating a loud, resounding thud. It just wasn't fair. That was a fact of life that he had long ago come to know, but this…this made it all worse. If he had wanted to be tormented, he could have stayed where he was and let it come to him; he needn't have gained the throne of the Rogue and taken Corus into his own hands. He needn't have risked his life for it when he was content to live if he had what he wanted. He could have manipulated someone else into taking the throne for him, if he could have had Beka.
But no, it was always the same sarden excuse. 'A cove as makes his living by violence will live all his life by it.' She said that every time. Now it only served to make his anger greater. He was almost to his boiling point, and not even he knew what would happen if he reached that point. It had never happened before.
It was strange how Beka could drive him to such extremes, he thought as a depression sank over him in addition to the anger that still coursed through him. She could make him so mad by what she did, and yet, on the very contrary flip side of the coin, he loved her more than he could explain, and at the same time, too.
He sank down on his bed again, burying his face in his hands and running his fingers though his long, thick white-blond hair. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, to try to get his mind on track and his anger abated.
Validly, Rosto had no claim on her. Beka was her own mot, and she could take care of herself. But that didn't stop him from wanting to take care of her like she was the most precious thing in the world, for all she meant that much to him.
"Rosto?" He looked up at where the offending voice was coming from.
"Go away, Aniki. Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it. You can tell me tomorrow, all right?" he responded, lifting his head from his hands. He could feel the tears of anger and pain in his eyes and did not even bother to brush them away. There would be time for that in the morning. He scrunched his ebony eyes closed and rested his hand over his mouth, staring at the floor. He vaguely heard the sound of a tray on the floor.
"All right, Rosto. There's some tea out here if you want it. Best drink it before it gets cold," Aniki replied softly. That almost got him to smile. But only almost. Rosto opened his eyes and took another deep breath. His whole body shook from the aftermath of the fury that was running through his system.
It wasn't fair. He wasn't going to let anyone know that this was what it made him feel like, for Beka to have chosen another. He didn't understand her choice, but she was far away – too far for him to do anything.
'Why did you choose him, Beka, when you could have had me?' he asked, mentally forcing himself to stop thinking so much. There was no way that sleep would come now. Not for a long time. But still…why hadn't she chosen him over Rowan? Rosto cared more. He loved her. So why hadn't she chosen him instead?