Chapter Thirty-One
CASSIA
REXTON’S MOVING TOO slowly. Is it intentional? I assume so.
He picks a piece of food off his plate, taking his sweet time finishing his breakfast. He should’ve already eaten. Breakfast duty ended over an hour ago.
I suspect he snuck away to attend a meeting with Raum and the other officers while I was distracted with my morning duties. It wouldn’t be the first time he did so, and I highly doubt it’ll be the last.
“Come on,” I hiss, pacing the length of the table he sits at. “Hurry up.”
He ignores me and, if anything, he seems to slow down even further. I should throttle him, but I settle for tapping my foot impatiently against the ground. I’ve been placed in a scouting group today, one of Raum’s best ones, and I’m eager to get moving.
Several minutes pass. Rexton continues his leisurely pace.
I snap my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “I’m leaving.”
I should’ve left him earlier, but I was trying to be polite. He said I was strong and capable, and he said I am a valuable asset to Wrath. It was an unexpected compliment, one I’m willing to admit softened me just the tiniest bit.
As my assigned dark cloud, he can’t let me out of his sight. I’ve taken advantage of that, and there have been several instances these past few days where I’ve refused to sit still and forced him to hurriedly eat while following me around camp.
I have no issues making him do so.
I turn, beginning to walk away.
A loud sigh emerges from behind me. “I’m almost finished, Cassia. Just give me a minute.”
“I don’t care.”
I head in the direction where my scouting group was instructed to meet. After Raum announced today’s groups, everybody broke away to wrap up their final morning chores and finish preparing for the day. That was fifteen minutes ago, and I fear my group is now waiting for me.
I don’t want to be the last one to arrive. It sends a bad impression.
Rexton’s fork scrapes against his plate as he rushes through his last bites of food, and a second later, he hurries up alongside me. He’s annoyed, but it doesn’t bother me. Let him be angry. He shouldn’t have taken so long to eat.
He was taking advantage of my kindness.
He huffs. “What made you like this?” he asks. I recoil. What’s that supposed to mean? Rexton continues. “You’re intelligent. You’re powerful. You have a family that loves and supports you. Why are you so nasty?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I quicken my pace, my boots slamming against the mushy ground. Why is he asking me this? That’s a personal question, and the topic makes me uncomfortable. I know something’s wrong with me, that my mind doesn’t work as it should, and I don’t like addressing it. Acknowledging it makes it real.
“I don’t know. I don’t…” I trail off, chewing at my bottom lip. Rexton waits, silent and patient, for me to continue. “I’ve always been like this.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“And what the fuck have you heard?”
Is Rexton talking about me? Discussing my attitude and personality behind my back? He has no right.
We reach the spot where my group is set to meet. It’s empty. Rexton and I are the first to arrive.
I suck my cheeks into my mouth, the realization making me feel slightly guilty for rushing him through breakfast. I convinced myself that everybody was waiting for me, that they were judging my inability to manage my time.
They’d blame it on my lack of experience, or maybe they’d conclude that my lineage has made me spoiled.
The thoughts were swirling. I couldn’t stop them.
“Who have you been speaking to about me?” I ask. “My fathers? My mother? Raum?”
Rexton drags his hands through his hair, his chest deflating. I cock my head to the side.
“Do I stress you out, Rexton?”
“Very much so.”
Good.
I cross my arms over my chest, scanning the woods for my scouting group. Are they going to be long? I hope not. Almost ten minutes pass before my small group finally trickles in. We’re a team of seven, Rexton included.
The officer leading our group is the last to arrive. He’s strong, but his power pales in comparison to Rexton and me. It makes it hard to respect him, but I’m trying my best to follow his leadership. Raum is in charge of this camp, and I don’t want my negative behavior to be reported back to him.
I’m desperate to be given more responsibility, and as of right now, he’s the only man with the authority to provide it. Rexton technically outranks Raum, but he’s here to babysit me, not lead. I technically outrank Rexton and Raum, but my authority has been stripped.
It’s an odd situation for everybody involved.
The officer clears his throat. “Is everybody ready?” He looks around, making eye contact with each of us before nodding to himself. “Great. Let’s head out.”
Rexton and I are the first to teleport to the meeting point. It’s several miles from camp, deep in the mountains. My group is responsible for inspecting and clearing a five-mile stretch of land near the pass where we estimate Prince Nolic is marching his army.
We don’t have many eyes within Greed, but the few reports we’ve gotten confirm our suspicions. He’s heading this way, and he probably already has several soldiers scouting the area.
The others in the group appear, some slower than others. I forget how hard it can be for demons to teleport, and I still cringe as I recall my blunders during the years I was perfecting the art. I’d frequently make mistakes, and my fathers came to my rescue more times than I can count.
It’s second nature to me now. To Rexton, too, it seems.
“Does everybody remember their positions?” Our officer pauses. We mutter affirmatives. “Don’t linger,” he continues. “Check back in between locations, and be careful.”
Obviously.
I teleport to my first designated location, beyond pleased to finally have a moment alone.
It’s only for a few minutes, but it’s cathartic.
Rexton should be about a quarter mile to my right, examining the area closest to the pass.
I take offense to the fact that they’ve given him the most dangerous position.
My boots sink into the ground, and I grimace at the mud coating them before focusing on the task at hand.
I’m searching for any sign that Prince Nolic’s men are heading in this direction or have already been through here.
Given the recent rainfall and mud, it should be easy to see.
They’ll have left deep footprints behind. This shouldn’t take long.
There’s a quiet whistle. It comes from behind, and before I have the opportunity to teleport closer and inspect, piercing pain spreads through my chest. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I suck in a shaky breath before pulling in my power and teleporting away.
I only make it a few feet.
I look down.
Fuck.
I’ve been speared. Speared. A long, wooden shaft protrudes from the center of my chest, and I can just barely see the base of the attached metal tip. It’s deep inside me, and it fucking hurts.
I did not see this coming.
I force myself to look up, to look away from the blood rapidly pouring down the front of my shirt. The area is heavily wooded, but I immediately spot the Greeds hiding between the trees. There are four of them.
They’re covered in mud, coated from head to toe. It hides their scent, and it’s the only reason I didn’t sense them immediately. All four of them are wrapped up in furs, prepared for the frigid nighttime temperatures.
They’ve been watching and waiting, and it’s just my luck that I was sent the day they decided to attack.
The spear is bottom-heavy, the weight tugging the wooden shaft downward and the speared tip upward. It’s beyond excruciating, and it’s borderline impossible to ignore.
I need to focus.
“It’s a woman…” A moment of silence, then, “It’s Aziel’s firstborn, Cassia.”
The realization is filled with excitement, and the four Greeds teleport closer. They’re quick, and I stumble forward in preparation for a fight. They aren’t actively holding weapons, but there’s a glint of silver at their waists. It’s enough to set me on edge.
I see no other spears, thank the fucking heavens.
The largest of the group stalks toward me, almost within my reach. Now that he’s closer, I can smell beyond the mud he’s covered himself in. The power that seeps from him is slightly above average, but nothing worth noting. I assume he’s the leader of the small group.
“We have to bring her back alive,” he says.
That’s a cute thought.
The man on my right shakes his head. “Those aren’t our orders.”
“We’ll make an exception for the princess.” The leader spits the word ‘princess’ like it’s an insult. It’s not. I’m royalty, and he’s nothing. His judgment reeks of jealousy. “Prince Nolic will be ecstatic to get his hands on her.”
The Greeds begin circling me. I let them exit my line of sight. I’m not a regular demon. I’m Aziel’s daughter, and I don’t need eyes to track them. The spear in my chest fades to the back of my mind as I focus on their footfalls, keeping tabs on their location and proximity.
They’re closing in on me. They’re making a mistake.
I may have a spear sticking out of my chest, but I’m still Cassia, Crown Princess of Wrath. It’ll take a lot to bring me down.
“We should—”
I teleport behind the demon closest to me, not hesitating to snap his neck. I rip hard, making sure there’s no chance of survival. His knees give out, and I drop him to the floor before turning toward the one beside him.
He’s just beginning to react, and I shove my hand through his chest. I’ve heard stories of Aziel using this method to kill, but as muscle tears and organs slip between my fingers, I decide it’s an awful experience.
The man knocks the shaft of my spear aside, and flames lick up my throat as he grabs hold and rips.
It takes everything in me not to scream, not to fall to the floor in a heap.
I planned to leave the spear in place until reaching the medical tent back at camp, and blood immediately begins pouring through the gaping wound.
Sweat drips down my face as I teleport a few feet away. The heart travels with me, and I drop the mangled organ as I face the remaining two demons. The leader is one of them.
They’re crouching, eyeing my every movement as they readjust their grips on the knives now clutched in their fists. Their gazes are locked on my chest, no doubt searching for the best way to exploit my injury.
I straighten up, not wanting them to know just how much pain I’m in. Or how I’m fighting back the temptation to sway. The spear penetrated deep, and I fear it hit something vital. I’d already be dead if it hit my heart, but it could’ve punctured a lung.
Both men lunge at once. They’re smooth. Practiced. Rexton wasn’t lying about Mammon training her army. I knew she grew paranoid after Luca’s death, but I suppose I never realized the extent to which she prepared.
My movements are embarrassingly slow as I dart away from the first man’s attack, but I’m too disoriented to defend against the second man.
His shoulder slams against my ribcage, knocking the wind out of me.
There’s a pinpointed crack, which I suspect is a rib or two breaking, and my fists momentarily drop.
My head drops, too, the blood loss making me hazy.
I’m too weak to teleport.
One of the men enters my reach, and I use my last bit of energy to rip out his throat. It’s messy, and blood sprays across my face as he stumbles back. I’ve lost track of the last man, though, the leader.
I quickly find him as a boot slams against my lower spine, knocking me onto my hands and knees.
I land with a pained grunt, and disgust roils through me as I realize I might not win this fight. My first real fight that counts for something, and I’m failing. These four men wouldn’t have been a challenge had I not been fucking speared.
Who spears people?
“Cass—”
Rexton.
The Greed behind me drops to the ground, his head bouncing off a rock on my left. There’s no body attached to it.
Arms wrap around my torso. One presses directly over my chest hole, and I scream. It ruptures out of my throat without control, so loud and rough that my voice will undoubtedly be hoarse tomorrow.
Rexton readjusts his grip and flips me around, and his blurry, panicked expression enters my line of sight a second later. He’s staring at the gaping wound. I can only imagine how it looks, and despite my hatred of him, I fall limp against his chest as he hauls me off the ground.
My head lolls onto his shoulder.
“Are you keeping the trachea?”
Am I holding a trachea? I flex my fingers, just now realizing they’re curled around something. I didn’t intend to take it with me, but it’s not a bad idea.
“Yes,” I grunt. “A souvenir.”
The world around me vanishes, only to reappear a second later outside camp. Why is Rexton bringing me to camp? This is his perfect opportunity to kill me, to secure Wrath for himself. Why isn’t he taking it?
“Why?” I ask.
He ignores me, instead pulling me closer to safety. I don’t understand.