Answers
Europe is gone. Not the landmass, per se–though a lot of that is gone, too. The cities, the structures, the forests are all gone. Leveled. Decimated by the Disruptions and buried by wars that broke out after. New America only survived because of DAEMON’s diligence.
Light floods my senses as my eyes flit open. It takes a moment, but then my ears begin to work, too.
“She’s waking, doctor,” someone says softly. “Shall I get the God Queen?”
Two pairs of footsteps recede as another pair clacks faster down some sort of hardened floor.
“Arya?” a voice whispers, sounding muted and tired.
I finally manage to get an eyelid open and find Mary—Cassandra—staring down at me. Her pale face and full lips are a welcomed sight considering everything that just happened.
“Present,” I groan, reaching up a hand to rub at my eye. “Why do I keep ending up in the hospital.”
“Technically we are in my quarters,” Cassandra says, sounding a bit nervous. “I am not yet certain if Loki and Beowulf’s loyalists have been purged. And they are not the only enemies within.”
“It’s comfy,” I say, wriggling a little in the bed.
And lavish.
The room, as my eyes begin to adjust to the light, is twice the size of the one I’d woken up in the second time.
There’s a wood-burning fireplace directly across from the four-poster bed I’m splayed in.
A series of bookshelves adorned with gold and other jewels line the room, each filled with books of all sizes and colors.
Two comfortable reading chairs sit in the corner with a coffee table between them.
“So that wasn’t a hallucination, then?” I ask, peering at her. “I didn’t imagine you kissing me and telling me you’re into me?”
“Do you find yourself thinking about me that much?” Cassandra asks, her lip quirking. “I am honored. But no, it was not a hallucination.
Cassandra sits to my right, eyes still watching me with a slight bit of nerves, despite the humor in her voice.
“Cassandra,” I say, feeling the name weirdly on my tongue. “Do you mind if I call you Cass?”
She sort of startles like she didn’t remember giving me her name, but nods.
“You are the only living person who knows it. I would prefer to keep it that way,” she says, sounding trepidatious.
“Sure,” I nod. Warmth floods my chest at the honor. “How many days this time?”
Cass smiles before nodding at the bedside table where there are a handful of files.
“Two. I brought you these, though, to look over when you feel better.”
“I feel fine,” I say, slowly pushing myself seated. “I keep picking fights with the types of people that can knock out my healing.”
Cass tilts her head a little, studying me.
“You should not have accelerated healing. Nothing in our records says you do.”
I frown at her as I reach for the stack.
“Well then I should be very dead. I’ve never taken on twenty-six people at once, but it hadn’t been the issue. The issue was Loki’s magical daggers.”
Cass’ eyes unfocus like she’s thinking about something.
“Your friends tried to find you, but I told them you were recovering. I did not wish to alarm them, though.”
I try to catch her eyes, but she’s still staring off.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Marla and Trish must have freaked when I didn’t show for breakfast. “Can I see them?”
Cass nods, looking less contemplative. “We have things to discuss, but yes.”
I turn my attention to the top file and snort.
“You really are trying to apologize, huh?” I ask, flipping open the cover to DAEMON Investigations.
“What you said before, in the bathroom,” Cass says, and I glance up to meet her eyes. “About having other people to spy on.”
I blink a few times, trying to recall. I’d been furious. Though I can’t find any of that fury in me anymore.
“I said a lot of things out of anger to you,” I say, shame dripping into my gut like a rot. “I was trying to hurt you with words because I knew you’d kill me if it came to a fight.”
“No,” she shakes her head, eyes widening. “No, I would never have let it get that far. You did hurt me, but I deserved it. I was acting out of line.”
“Then?” I prompt, closing the file to give her my full attention.
“There is no one else,” she says softly, fiddling with a ring on her hand in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “I just wanted you to know.”
In these softer moments, I forget she’s a legendary figure. That she’s effectively a goddess.
“No other suitors?” I ask, giving her a teasing grin.
She levels an orange glare on me. And it sends a titter of nerves low in my abdomen.
“Some over the years,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “These days very few even speak to me as another mortal being.”
“How—” I suck at my teeth, wondering how to ask this question.
“How many years?” she prompts, a self-deprecating smile curling at her lips.
I nod, embarrassed that I would even ask. “I don’t know a lot about you, Cass.”
“That is something I hope to rectify, if you are willing. I know this is strange. You might feel trapped. It was never my intention. I never—”
She takes a shuddering breath and looks genuinely mortified by her rambling.
“I’ll admit I’m confused,” I say and meet her orange eyes. “But you were there for me in some of the worst moments in my life these last few weeks. More than anyone else was. Save for Marla and Trish. But it does feel sort of like I’m dating a goddess.”
She blinks at the word and I cringe.
“I mean,” I stammer, “I don’t—”
Cass’ face splits into another smile—which I’ll admit is pretty addictive given how her nose crinkles a little and a dimple forms at the corner of her right cheek.
“I am no goddess,” she says, glancing down at the simple, dark red robe that she’s known for. “But I understand. I hope to demystify myself in time.”
She seems to unfocus again, her eyes sort of drifting to something behind my head.
I reach for the file again but stop as she speaks again.
“I’m six-hundred and ninety-six years old,” her voice is almost hollow as she continues to stare off.
Instead of being cool about it, I inhale a gallon of spit and barely save myself with a rough coughing fit.
Cass reaches for a glass of water and hands it to me with a steadied hand.
I chug it gratefully and try to think of something to say.
“I knew you were one of the first Remnants,” my voice is hoarse as I clear my throat again.
“Ivan had been, actually,” she says softly, and I frown at her. “He was killed by Darkrend sometime after.”
Something about the way she said the name warns me off asking.
“So, we have no idea who Darkrend is, then?” I ask instead, and Cass shakes her head, looking exhausted. I can see the weight of the years—even if she looks timeless.
I glance back down at the file in my lap.
“We know it’s got to do with DAEMON. So, what do we know about them?”
Cass lets out a heavy sigh and sits back in her chair.
“Damien Roberts’ grandfather founded it in 1930–930, I mean,” she shakes her head a little. “I never got used to the scheme. They retroactively changed everything in 1900 when the Second Disruption happened.”
I study her as she seems to zone out again. This version of the God Queen is so different from the one that everyone else sees.
“What was that like?” I ask, and she shakes herself a little before her eyes find mine.
“Terrifying,” she gives me a wan smile. “The sky ruptured and Affliction all but poured from gash. Like someone had taken a knife to the world only to let it bleed out.”
“And DAEMON took advantage of that?” I ask, gesturing to the file.
“I will admit that the very few times I have met Damien Roberts, he always seemed troubled. Though whether it was because of his business dealings or—”
“Because he was meeting Bloody Mary?” I ask, and she smiles again.
“I went under my civilian identity. The one you met.”
“Which is?”
“Ophelia Barretti,” she says, deepening her already posh accent. “A refugee from war-torn Europe.”
I cough out a laugh at the unexpected silliness.
“Is that where you’re from?” something in me ignites at the idea of learning more about her. Maybe because for the last decade, all I’ve ever known were rumors and lies.
“Yes,” she says, looking forlorn by the idea. “My family is long dead, though.”
I let the topic drop and wiggle to the edge of the bed before gingerly pressing my feet to the ground.
“So,” I say, standing and batting away the offered hand. “What’s next?”
“Well, we need to meet with the council and decide on replacements for Beowulf and Loki’s positions. After that, we need to make drastic changes to our plans.”
“I would’ve thought their replacements would have been chosen already,” I say, stretching a little and relishing in the way Cass’ eyes find my bare abdomen in the soft pajamas.
“I—” her cheeks pink a little as she returns my confused look with a somewhat guilty one of her own. “I was waiting for you to recover.”
I lean forward and her lips meet mine. For a moment, the rest of the world falls away. The issues. The death. Her tongue slips between my lips and explores my mouth greedily.
I forgot what it feels like to be desired like this.
“So,” I pant when she finally leans back. “Back to pretending like I can’t stand you?”
She huffs out a laugh and, God, I want to kiss that neck.
“Do you believe you could take on Loki and Beowulf’s colleagues?” she asks the question like she genuinely wants to know.
I shrug. “How much of that fight did you see?”
“Almost none. I almost thought something had snuck into the Citadel. You looked ferocious,” her tone dips like the idea of me being powerful is an aphrodisiac.
“I don’t think the other council members have it out for me, but I don’t think I could take Azazel.”
Cass grins and steps aside, letting me see the new black clothes arrayed on the stout drawers.
“Azazel is a mystery, too. Though they like you, so I suspect you will never have to find out.”
“And the others?” I ask, stripping my silky shirt off.
I hear Cass take in a sharp breath.
“It is strange to see this side to you,” I pull the shirt over my head and, like before, notice my braid is done. “Did you braid my hair?”
“Is it wrong?” Cass asks, sounding genuinely nervous.
“No,” I say, turning to face her. I drop the sleep shorts and watch her eyes widen again before pulling on the joggers. “It’s exactly how I do it. I noticed it last time, too.”
Cass regains control of her deepening blush before blowing out a breath.
“I watched you do it enough times to know how,” her nonchalance belies the worry in her eyes.
“I know you were spying on me. I just hope you kept your eyes to yourself when I showered.”
Cass nods fervently, and I place my palm along her jaw, feeling the muscles clench with anxiety.
“I told you before: you were there for me when no one else was. Without you, I’d be dead. I can forgive a few months of light stalking. Just be nice to me going forward, yeah?”
She nods again, but there’s a flicker of something dark in her orange eyes.