Kennedy (Council Assassins #19)

Chapter Twenty

Caspian

Idon’t bother hiding my irritation as we stride through Meridian’s streets toward Bastian’s estate. The sun is too bright for the morning atmosphere, and its heat relentlessly beats down on my exposed skin. The humid air clings to my lungs like a second layer, though I don’t find myself hating it as usual.

Meridian always pulls me into a strange state of nostalgia. I spent years visiting this city with my father, shadowing his dealings with merchants and dockmasters who traded in goods and favors. I hated every minute of it back then—suffocating under his expectations while pretending not to notice the disguised threats behind each handshake.

Every few steps, my gaze drifts to Ariella, who walks with infuriating grace despite the heat. She isn’t even sweating—I frown and focus on the quiet path ahead, drawing in steady breaths. Everything around us is peaceful, something I never experience when visiting Meridian.

“Are we certain this is necessary?”

I mutter, mostly to myself. Gavriel grunts in agreement behind me. Bastian is a fucking bastard, and I want nothing more than to stay far away from my cousin. Especially after he put his odious hands on Ariella.

Though I was beyond enraged, the night ended as one of the best in my life. Not because Ariella allowed me to experience what it felt like to have her heat wrapped around me—fuck, the sounds she makes are the ones I wish to listen to as death takes me.

But it wasn’t the sex. It was the connection…something that, to this day, I cannot explain. It was as if an ancient being settled in the depths of my chest—the same thing that now aches each time I’m near her and drains the life from me when she’s away.

I’ve tried to understand it, piecing together fragments of old stories and rumors about things that tie people in ways no one can fully explain. Yet, even with all my digging, I’m no closer to an answer. What I do know is that it’s not one-sided—I’ve seen it in the way she watches me when she thinks I’m not paying attention, felt it in her touch as if the same pull is unraveling her from the inside out.

“No one’s forcing you to come,”

Ariella replies without looking back. “I’m sure there are plenty of noble ladies who’d love to entertain you both instead. Perhaps Jessenia is also visiting.”

She doesn’t sound bothered, but the light tapping against her thigh tells me otherwise.

I smirk, sliding an arm around her shoulders, and to my surprise, she doesn’t threaten me. Progress. “Jealous, angel?”

She scoffs but doesn’t respond, which only serves to widen my smile. Even after everything, she still tries to maintain distance between us. As if we haven’t shared more than just a bed these past weeks. I lean down and press a light kiss to her temple, my dick twitching when her full body shudders. The things she does to me.

The cobblestone streets gradually give way to wider, cleaner paths as we enter the noble district. Bastian’s family estate rises before us—all white stone and ornate red and gold architecture, desperately trying to mirror the grandeur of the royal palace. I roll my eyes. My cousin never could resist showing off his wealth.

Two guards stand at attention by the main gates, their postures stiffening as we approach. One of them, a younger man with sandy hair, steps forward with his hand on his sword.

“State your business.”

Before I can speak, Ariella moves past me. “Tell Lord Bastian his cousin is here.”

Her voice carries that deadly edge I’ve come to dream of—the one that makes most men’s blood run cold.

Such is that with the sentry she directed her words to. He hesitates, eyes lingering on her silver hair. Recognition flashes across his face, followed quickly by fear. “I…the lord isn’t accepting visitors today.”

The sound of metal scraping leather permeates the tense space, Ariella flawlessly spinning a blade through her fingers while continuing to watch the guard. “My apologies, I must have misheard you.”

She takes another step forward, and the man flinches. “Because if you did just reject your prince in the name of some false, slimy lord, who’s a mockery to the fucking throne, you and I will have quite the problem.”

I should intervene, but watching her intimidate Bastian’s men brings me more satisfaction than I care to admit. Establishing her as my guard was a damn great decision.

“My lady, please—”

the guard starts, but Ariella throws her fist into his throat, rendering him choking and breathless. She saunters past them both, and neither makes a move to stop her. Smart men.

“Coming?”

she calls over her shoulder. The woman is in a mood today, and I love every second of it.

I share an amused look with Gavriel before following, though his expression looks far less entertained, his jaw clenched tight enough I can see the muscle jumping. He’s been on edge since we arrived in Meridian, though he refuses to tell me why, and has refrained from speaking often. All strange behavior; I’ll wait until we’re back in Valoria to address it.

The estate’s main doors swing open before we reach them, revealing a harried-looking steward. “Prince Caspian,”

he greets with a hasty bow. “The king hadn’t sent—we weren’t expecting—”

“WHERE IS HE?”

Bastian’s voice booms from inside, followed by hurried footsteps. He appears in the doorway, his face deep red and scrunched so hard I’m sure it will remain that way for the rest of his years. “What in the Angel’s name are you doing here? Get the fuck out, Caspian!”

Always so dramatic.

“Is that any way to greet family?”

I jeer, unable to keep the sickly sweet tone from my voice.

His eyes narrow before shifting to Ariella. Something complicated passes over his features—fear mixed with…desire? My hands clench at my sides as heat fills the space under my skin.

“Get them out,”

he snaps at his staff, before physically snapping in their direction. No one moves.

Ariella chuckles and takes one step. I swear the temperature drops several degrees. “Hello, Bastian.”

I curse at the carnality in her voice, biting my tongue hard to stop my hands from squeezing the life from my cousin. “We’re here to talk, so invite us in, won’t you?”

The way he watches her is nauseating.

Until she allows her blade to catch in the light, and the color drains from his face.

“I don’t invite psycho women into my house.”

“No?”

She moves closer, and he steps back. “That’s unfortunate. You see, we traveled all this way just to see you, Bastian. Surely you can make an exception just this once?”

Her free hands whips out to grab the collar of his red, button-down shirt. She holds him tight as her blade drags up his abdomen.

Fucking Angel. She’s going to pay for touching him like this.

I swallow down the anger and watch with growing interest as Bastian’s composure crumbles further. His eyes search for help, though not even his staff aid him as they remain back in the foyer.

“Inside,”

he manages after a minute, tossing some stiff gesture over his shoulder.

We follow him through marble halls decorated with expensive artwork and tapestries—each piece chosen to display his family’s fortune and status. The whole place reeks of desperate nobility trying to prove their worth.

He leads us to his study, dismissing the staff with a sharp wave. Only once the doors are closed does he turn to face us, though his eyes keep darting to Ariella like he expects her to strike at any moment. If she doesn't, I might.

“What do you want to know?”

he asks, shuffling behind his desk as if it might offer some protection.

“I’d like to discuss someone by the name of Ally Dimir.”

His eyes widen. “What about Ally?”

“Everything,”

Ariella replies. “Starting with how you knew her.”

Bastian laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Why don’t you ask your friend Isaiah? Oh, wait…”

I move before thinking, but Ariella’s hand on my chest stops me. Her touch burns through the fabric, grounding me.

“Careful, cousin,”

I warn, my voice low. “You’re walking a dangerous line.”

He sneers, but some of the false bravado leaves his shoulders. “She was my betrothed,”

he finally answers. “Before she left for the competition.”

That wasn’t what I expected. From the slight curl of Ariella’s fingers that still rest on me, she’s equally surprised.

“When?”

she demands.

“Two years ago. We were to be married in the winter, but then…”

he trails off, running a hand through his hair. He looks quite disheveled talking about Ally. “The king visited. Spoke with her privately. The next day she was gone, not even caring to say goodbye. I’d thought about joining her, but Thalion made it clear that I was to act as if I had never met her.”

He laughs, the sound empty. “He was pissed when I arrived in Valoria, but how could he expect me to just let go of the woman I was to marry? Then I saw the way she and Isaiah were together.”

I clench my jaw as Bastian’s words ripple through the stale air. His admission about Ally explains quite a bit, though my mind grapples with possibilities I hadn’t considered before.

“So you pursued me out of spite?”

Ariella asks, not even a spec of offense lacing her voice. “To get back at her?”

Bastian shifts in his chair, suddenly finding great interest in the papers scattered across his desk. What does he even work on—it’s not as if he manages anything other than his own pockets. “Not entirely.”

His eyes flick to me before continuing. “The king suggested I…distract you.”

White-hot rage courses through my veins. Of course my father had orchestrated that, too. How many other pieces has he moved without my knowledge? Against Ariella, no less?

“What else did the king tell you?”

I demand, stepping further around his desk. “And think carefully before lying to us. You’d rather not know what Ariella did to the guildmaster for it just yesterday.”

He swallows hard and looks between Ariella and me, conflict evident on his features. “I don’t know much. He mentioned something about balance and power, but it made little sense. Said Ally would be what he needed to remove his problem so that he may restore our realm.”

He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “This was at the ball, so I’d just thought the man was drunk and speaking in riddles.”

“The Accord,”

Ariella states, voice flat. Not a question. “Did he mention it?”

It seems we no longer require discretion or subtlety. I cross my arms and lean against the wall, watching my future queen interrogate my cousin.

And what a fucking sight it is.

Bastian’s brow furrows. “The what?”

“Don’t play stupid,”

I snap, impulsiveness overshadowing my calm. “The ancient agreement between realms. The one that’s currently falling apart while my father conducts his twisted experiments.”

He blinks, his forehead creasing. “Experiments?”

“Yes, experiments,”

Ariella cuts in, her patience eroding, if the tightness in her tone is any indication. “With essence. Ring any bells?”

Understanding dawns on his face. “That’s what he meant…”

he mutters, more to himself than us. “He kept going on about finding new ways to harness power, about making the kingdom stronger instead of being limited. I thought he was speaking metaphorically.”

Gavriel shifts behind us, watching the entire interaction with wary eyes.

Bastian sits forward abruptly. “You know, now that I think about it, he’d visit every so often, asking strange questions about ancient texts on essence.”

His gaze darts to the elaborate tapestry behind his desk of the royal crest. “My family’s library contains some of the oldest records in the realm, and he was always very interested in them, but insisted that they remained here.”

I want to deny it. To say that my father hasn’t been doing this for long—but that would be a complete lie. Valyria sacrificed herself for the king’s decisions, and that was more than twenty years ago.

A sour heat fills my stomach—I should have noticed. Paid attention. Maybe I could have stopped it before we reached a point of no return.

“Show us,”

Ariella demands, backing from the desk as she gestures for my cousin to leave.

Bastian hesitates before standing with a resigned sigh. He walks from the room, and we follow him through winding corridors, descending deeper into the estate until we reach a circular room lined with what I assume are the very old texts my father utilized. The air here feels heavy, stiff. It’s uncomfortable.

“Here,”

Bastian says, tugging a weathered book from one of the shelves. “This is the one that interested him most. I once read it to see what caught his attention, though I never thought more about it. There are details of old theories about essence manipulation—ways to combine different strands, to amplify raw power.”

He pauses. “And methods of extraction, if I'm remembering right.”

Ariella snatches the book from him, her eyes scanning the pages at a rapid pace. “Fuck’s sake,”

she breathes. “This is it. This is what he’s doing.”

Her spoken thoughts confirm what I hoped wasn’t true. But there’s no denying it at this point.

I step just behind her, reading over her shoulder. Gavriel joins me, though remains a good distance away from Ariella. The text describes horrific experiments conducted centuries ago—attempts to forcibly remove essence from living beings and transfer it to others. Most subjects died in agony.

Fury builds in my chest. “I still don't understand what the children's role is in this. If these experiments are accurate, how would their small bodies be of any use compared to adults?”

I can’t think about that right now.

Gavriel grunts behind us, pacing to another shelf and back. “The guards at the tunnel entrance. They must have been protecting wherever he’s conducting these tests. That much is obvious, though I do not believe they're aware of what's happening. Now that we know, it will not matter if we go through them to find Thalion.”

I nod, my body more tired than it's been in years. Shifting on both feet, my mind races. “How long do we have?”

“Clearly not long.”

Ariella’s fingers drum against her thigh. “We leave for Valoria tonight.”

Bastian nods, eager to be rid of us, before herding our group upstairs. He doesn’t escort us out, and I’m glad for it. The urge to punch his stupid fucking mouth remains strong.

The streets of Meridian seem different now, darker somehow despite the bright afternoon sun. Or perhaps it’s just my perception that’s changed, polluted by images and thoughts of what my father is capable of.

Ariella walks a foot ahead of me and Gavriel, lost in thought. She may be silent as a wraith, but I can practically hear her mind working through possibilities. Even distracted, she travels with lethal grace, drawing looks from citizens that she ignores as if she’s oblivious to them. But I know the truth—she’s aware of every soul in the vicinity and would have a blade in the throat of the first person that even thought about harming her.

I bite my cheek to dampen the smile, barely succeeding. She’s fucking incredible.

We’re halfway back to the inn when we encounter them; a group of people huddled around a wild-eyed man shouting from atop a crate.

“The end approaches!”

His desperate cries raise the hairs along my arms. “The realms bleed into each other! Our essence fails us! Who among you hasn’t felt the change?”

The crowd murmurs, though I cannot tell if they agree with the sentiment or not.

The man continues. “The Angel abandoned us long ago. The coming is the price of our arrogance. The realms demand payment!”

Ariella halts, causing me to almost collide with her. Her head tilts as she listens to this nonsense. I am curious about where he found this information, though. After a few moments of the man repeating himself, she mutters something under her breath and stalks away.

The sounds of the crowd fade as we put distance between us, but the words linger in my mind. The realms demand payment.

It’s nonsense—just the ravings of someone desperate to find meaning in the current predicament of our realm. Yet, something about it gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, as if some part of me recognizes a truth hidden within the madness. I can’t shake the uneasiness within my gut, especially after hearing the same thing from Rael.

I want to ask Ariella, but her posture screams leave me alone as she practically jogs through the streets. I’ve learned when to give her space, even if every cell of my being wants to pull her close and promise we’ll figure this out together.

“We should rest before heading back,”

Gavriel suggests as we near the city center. “It’s a long ride, and we all need time to process today.”

I expect Ariella to argue, but she glares at my guard, a dangerous glimmer shifting through her eyes. They stare at one another, seeming to have an unspoken argument, though of what this time, I’m unsure. They should really speak to someone about their issues—it’s become far more irritating than amusing at this point.

Gavriel clears his throat, gesturing ahead. “We can rest at the inn near the marketplace. It will be quieter there.”

I nod, though Ariella’s already wandering away. My muscles ache from riding, but there’s a tension thrumming through me that won’t let me rest just yet. Too many questions plague my mind.

The streets of Meridian bustle with activity despite the heat. Vendors call out their wares while dock workers hurry past with crates and supplies. The salty breeze carries hints of fish and spices from nearby food stalls.

Ariella pauses, her attention caught by something in a shop window. I follow her gaze to an elegant dress displayed behind the glass. The deep orange fabric reminds me of a sunset over the Elysaran Mountains, flowing like water that has been frozen in time. Tiny crystals are woven throughout, catching the light in an intentional pattern. It’s breathtaking—and unlike anything I’d expect to capture her interest.

She stares for several long moments before shaking her head and continuing down the street. I suppress the urge to offer to buy it for her. She’d slice off my dick just for suggesting it.

“Wraith!”

a merchant calls out with notable excitement, waving from his stall. “You look troubled! I have exactly what you need—straight from Auroria’s finest inventors!”

Ariella raises an eyebrow but approaches his table. The merchant grins, pulling out an odd cylindrical object that tapers at one end, made of soft, polished metal. It’s about the length of my hand, with strange ridges and curves along its surface.

“What is it?”

she asks, her curiosity evident as she picks it up.

“A revolutionary device that integrates with essence!”

the merchant exclaims. “Simply channel your energy into it and—”

The object lurches to life in her hand, emitting a low humming as it vibrates intensely. Ariella’s eyes widen and she grimaces, turning it over to examine it.

“What the fuck is this even supposed to do?”

she demands, holding it away from her body. “It’s just making noise.”

I lean in to study it, equally baffled. “Perhaps it’s meant to…mix liquid concoctions?”

Even as I say it, I know that can’t be right. The merchant’s knowing smirk only deepens my confusion.

“You’ll figure it out,”

he says with a wink. “Just remember to draw the essence back out when you’re finished. And wash it thoroughly, of course.”

Ariella tries to hand it back, but he waves her off. “Consider it a gift! The Silver Wraith herself, using my wares? Priceless advertising.”

She scowls but stuffs the strange device into her pocket, clearly done with this interaction—as am I. “Whatever.”

As we leave, I catch a hint of a conversation between two women who are giggling over the same object Ariella was just given. Interesting.

We continue toward the docks, the crowds thinning as we near the water, though the atmosphere seems far more erratic. The ocean stretches before us, waves lapping at the wooden piers. The setting sun tints the water in brilliant golds and crimsons.

I watch Ariella as she consumes the view. The way her iridescent hair catches the light, how her sharp features soften in quiet contemplation. Even after everything, she still manages to steal my breath.

But something shifts in her expression—a hardening of her features that has my own senses heightening. “What is that?”

Gavriel asks, also gazing at the water.

That’s when I see it. What appears to be a wall emerging from the water, impossibly tall and rising by the second. “What in the Aether…”

I breathe.

People begin to notice, pointing and shouting, their alarm creating chaos among others. The wall of water grows, almost blocking out the sun as it advances toward the shore with frightening speed.

“We need to move,”

I say, already calculating. “If we can get to higher ground, it may not reach us.”

“No time,”

Ariella cuts in, her eyes still fixed on the approaching wave. “If we run, we die.”

She turns to me then, and I know that look. The one that says she’s about to do something very dangerous and potentially impossible. The one that makes my heart race with equal parts fear and awe.

“No,”

I say, even as I step closer to her. “I know what you’re thinking, angel, but it’s not worth it.”

This fearless fucking woman is preparing to expose her forbidden essence. I want to argue more, but not only do we have mere minutes until the wave reaches us, I’m certain that her choice is what will save her life. I could attempt to weave my aqua strand—I shake my head even as I think it. I’ve never trained in such a way and it would only serve to make me weaker.

“Do you trust me?”

she demands as her breaths increase.

That may be the most stupid fucking thing to ever leave her mouth.

“Yes.”

I say the word without hesitation because it’s true. Completely, irrevocably true.

Screams fill the air as people flee in panic. The wave towers over the city now, and Gavriel grabs my arm, but I shake him off as I shift to stand beside Ariella. Whatever she’s planning will drain her of everything, and that only solidifies my decision to ground myself so that I may catch her when she falls.