34. A Respite
34
A RESPITE
Cassian
The wind stirred the powdered remains of the grove. Fine particles of dust floated in the air, glistening like star dew. Cassian watched them drift and twirl.
It seemed fitting, after all these years, for their love to burn, preserving the ashes in the crevices of his Land.
Cassian stuffed his hands in his pockets and inhaled deeply—the stale, crisp scent of the grove, citrus and mint, tangled in a honeyed botanic fragrance wafting from his own garden.
He lifted his head and appreciated the buttery, soft pink dawn spilling over the peaks of Moros.
His heart ached for the friend he’d lost, for the brother who betrayed him, and for what was to come. A bittersweet ache he gladly welcomed.
Finnian’s footfalls sounded behind him—a light step, barely audible, except for the slight twist of his heel as he pushed off his foot. A sound Cassian had memorized long ago. A sound that shot an instant dose of euphoria through his system each time he heard it.
Only this time, that euphoria was muddled with melancholy.
Finnian stopped at his side and followed his gaze out to the grove. He frowned and rolled his neck. Cassian observed closely out of the side of his eye. The twitchy, uncomfortable motion was a product of the curse.
Finnian lifted his arm, hand upright, and slightly curled his fingers.
Bright green stems protruded up from the ash-covered soil. Their ends budded and sprouted white, trumpet-shaped blossoms.
“I apologize for destroying the grove,” he said quietly, shamefully.
“You were confused and simply trying to figure out what was real.”
“I will regrow it all. The passion flowers, the hawthorn, the rosemary. All of it.”
Cassian rotated his body towards Finnian.
Finnian stared at him, brow pinched. “What is it?”
He raised his hands from his pockets and slipped them over Finnian’s cheeks, slowly bridging the space between them until he met Finnian’s lips.
Cassian’s insides liquified. A quiver trembled through him and his knees nearly buckled from its delightful sensation. So long . It had been so long since he’d kissed Finnian.
His thumbs hooked at the base of Finnian’s jawline to deepen the kiss, injecting more of him into his bloodstream.
Finnian inhaled a breath through his nose and clasped both sides of Cassian’s waist, digging his fingertips into the material of his waistband.
The world, the shit, the last century and a half of their lives. It was all behind them.
In Cassian’s mind, he was back in Augustus with Finnian, walking the trail underneath old oaks, the dabbling of the stream like a calming lullaby, with Finnian at his side, pointing at the fireflies.
That was his peace—Finnian and their lips on each other’s with nothing between them. No busy schedules, no conflicts, no warring. Just the two of them.
He held onto this as he glided a hand down the side of Finnian’s neck, settling his palm over Finnian’s pec. Divine power rushed through his blood into his fingertips.
Finnian’s eyes snapped open, and he shoved away from Cassian—too quickly for Cassian to snatch ahold of him.
A wild look of disapproval warped his features. “I will not let you do it.” He stepped back until there was a suitable length separating them, glaring with that beautiful scowl of his. “Not like this, Cassius. Give me time. I will craft a potion and break the curse myself.”
A sad smile curved over Cassian’s mouth, knowing that was precisely what Finnian would say. “You do not have that kind of time. The curse will only grow worse as the days pass. I am finished waiting for us to be whole again.”
“Not like this!” Finnian snarled, his eyes twisting furiously. “You absolve the curse, you will pay the price. I refuse to let that happen.”
Cassian couldn’t help but think back on the many arguments of their past. Standing face-to-face this way, and all the times that Cassian thought he would explode from the aggravation Finnian riled within him. They had come so far. Their words had finally reached one another after years of opposition. And as Cassian reflected, he realized how none of the things they’d disagreed on really mattered in the grand scheme of it all.
What mattered was this: Finnian stood before him, bold and terrified, unsettled by the idea of his partner experiencing any more loss or heartache. Everything in between, their journey to get to this moment, Cassian would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
“I love you too much,” Cassian said, “to allow my curse to weather your beautiful mind.”
Pain etched Finnian’s expression. It revealed itself in the tight line of his mouth, the fallen corners of his eyes. As quickly as it appeared, it flitted away.
He inclined his head, defiant, a challenge. “Then you will have to catch me first.”
Cassian expected nothing less from him. “You are bound to me through the potion that still entangles us, and from the moment you traded places with Naia, your soul belongs to me. There is nowhere you can run to.”
Finnian’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his hand into a fist in front of his stomach. “I will fight you then. I will not let you give up everything for me.”
Cassian drew in a breath and let it out in a ragged exhale. “You are everything. I am tired, Finny. I want a life with you. An uninterrupted life. I want to waste away in bed with you, live somewhere in the countryside, have a garden, take midnight strolls, and do whatever else we wish to do.”
“You adore your Land, the souls.”
“I do,” Cassian said. “But my time as its ruler has come to an end.”
The defiance fell from Finnian’s face. “If you do this, you will be giving up your title as a High God.”
Cassian stared at him for a long moment, taking in the creases along his forehead and the frown weighing down his lips. “I want our one day , Finnian.” His voice crackled, and he clamped his shaking lips.
Peering up, he ran a hand through his hair and blinked away the tears stinging in his eyes. “I’ve waited for over a century. It was the thing I clung to when the darkness engulfed me—when I couldn’t step foot back into Hollow City, when you faced me with such disdain, when I had to sit back and let Shivani torture you…” A sputtered cry broke through his words and he paused, gripping his hair tighter in his fist.
Finnian crossed the distance.
Without a word, he lightly unraveled Cassian’s fingers from his hair. He guided Cassian’s hand underneath the collar of his shirt and spliced his palm over the curse mark. Cassian could feel the edges of it raised on his skin.
“I won’t stop you,” he said, somber. “So long as this is what you truly desire.”
Cassian brought his other hand to Finnian’s nape and anchored him forward, connecting their foreheads. “Close your eyes.”
Finnian sucked in a breath and did as he requested.
Cassian lowered his hand along Finnian’s spine and rested it in the middle of his back, pulling their bodies snug. His divine power hummed in his fingertips. “Where do you wish to go?”
“You cannot distract me.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Augustus,” he said.
Cassian closed his eyes. “What else?”
“I’ll grow a garden. Teach you how to dry herbs to make your teas.”
“I will cook us breakfast each morning. And perhaps we can get a dog,” Cassian replied, smiling.
“A live one, you mean?”
Cassian chuckled. “Yes, a live one.”
Finnian nudged his nose against Cassian’s cheek. “And we will live happily—with no end.”
Cassian curled his fingers, pressing the tips into the skin of Finnian’s chest. He inhaled. “Forever.”
Like ink being spilled in reverse, the dark coils of cursed magic began to untangle from Finnian and back into Cassian’s palm.
He exhaled, relishing in the pinch of agony within his arteries. A wrong of his own made right.
“Let us share a final set of goodbyes,” he said, “before our life begins.”
The atmosphere stilled. A gray-slate wall encompassed the sky, casting a monochromatic hue across the Land. In its backdrop, hundreds of dazzling specks flourished in its darkness. Rain wept down, mourning the fall of its ruler.
Atop the knoll flourished in lavender, souls gathered outside their village. They sang and danced around him. Crowns of black pansies and hemlock adorned their heads. Garlands of wisteria bounced around their necks.
The rain pelted the tops of Cassian’s shoulders, drenching his hair and clothes.
He smiled and watched his souls praise him one last time.
Nathaira twirled amongst them, her sodden brunette strands flying in the air. She had always glowed in Cassian’s eyes, but as a High Goddess after Vale’s passing, she was marvelous. Laurel braided down her arms and over the corset of her gown, and she swayed with her eyes closed, content and with true peace.
Shivani chanted and jumped in the spot behind her. She wore a pair of jeans and a linen blouse, her complexion unmarred of rust and her hands empty of knives. It was a strange sight.
Finnian stood across from Cassian, his curls soaked against his forehead. Droplets gathered in his eyelashes and trickled down his face. He stared at Cassian with a glistening gaze, his neck free from the curse mark.
As the celebration quietened, the rain ceased, and strips of bronze tangerine streaked across the dreary sky.
“Mavros,” Cassian called out.
The crowd of souls parted, making way for his attendant.
Cassian held his arm out and formed his divine energy into a gleaming globe within the palm of his hand. The outside looked as if it were made of glass, but its center pulsed in milky black waves.
Mavros approached, clasping his hands together. He stopped in front of Cassian and closed his eyes, pointing his head down towards his mentor’s feet.
In a gentle motion, Cassian grasped his fingers around the orb and squeezed until it shattered, releasing the vaporous energy inside. The onyx smoke swirled like ribbons and spun around Mavros’s head twice before entering through the skin between his eyes.
“It is done,” Cassian murmured, sharing a small moment between them.
Mavros bowed his chin, acknowledging Cassian with more respect than he’d ever deserved.
He was proud of the Land, everything he had created, and he knew Mavros held a heart inside him built just like his own. The souls of the world would continue to find their rest.
“All hail, Mavros, High God of Death and Curses.”
The souls applauded and began chanting the song of the Land.
Mavros kept his head lowered. “I will not let you down, my lord.”
Cassian patted him on the shoulder. “I am not your lord anymore, Mavros. In fact, you are technically mine.”
He raised up and said, “You will always be my lord. My guidance.”
Cassian gave his shoulder a small squeeze and smiled. “If you need anything, I am only a summons away.”
“Go enjoy your long-awaited vacation, Cassian. You’ve earned it.”
Cassian turned to meet his lover’s gaze and extended his arm.
Finnian’s fingers glided over Cassian’s, hooking his grip around the heel of his palm.
Golden light poured over the land, and its rays spilled across Finnian, refracting off his olive-tan skin like gilded string. His eyes had not shined so brightly in a long, long time.
Go , the Land said. Be free.