Lucille
Chapter
Twenty-One
After changing and forcing Oliver to stay with Aspen until I returned, I limped my way to the library.
At the Doors of Moirai, I paused to view the scene as I always did, and I stopped breathing.
They showed Hell’s gates standing open, but beneath the dark wrought iron lay mud soaked in bright, fresh blood. Enough to suggest slaughter.
But whose? Our blood-banded? Was that how the gates opened?
It couldn’t be. The thought was horrific and seemed too simple for a kingdom that thrived on pain and bloodshed.
There had to be another—
The mosaic pieces shifted, glass clinking as they reformed. The red pieces formed the same scrolling rune. It blazed against a white background, stark and impossible to ignore.
Did it relate to the gates? Or was it important for another reason?
I entered the library, calling for Cato. Per usual, he did his little tap-and-pop-in scare.
“Cato, did Hell ever experience a massacre in front of the gates?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” he said with no inflection.
Wow, he’d actually answered me. Pushing my luck, I asked, “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?”
He let me sweat in silence before reaching into his robes and pulling out a quill and a small journal.
Of course, Cato would use a quill.
I touched the tip, noting the lack of ink. “Don’t I…”
Cato’s expression tilted on the verge of exasperation. It was just enough emotion on his face that I decided to shut it and draw.
I reined in a snort when the quill worked perfectly. It must be runed. After drawing each swirl and curve, I held up the page to Cato.
“Have you seen this rune before?”
He stared at it for the longest time. His eye twitched, and his thin, pressed lips creased into a small scowl.
“No.”
“Well, do you know how I could find answers? About this, how to open the gates, save my mom, find Oliver’s sister, change—” I stopped myself.
Cato would not approve of me changing the past. Helping my mom’s soul to Limbo, yes. Disregarding the Throne creed, no.
“You have the resources. I expect a report tomorrow morning on your progress with Somnivado and Intraverso.” He snatched his notebook and quill back. “And next time, keep your vocal ruckus down. It interrupted my leisure time.” He turned and luscelered back to his cave.
“Vocal ruckus? He’s never had a problem with it before,” I muttered.
I should just be happy he answered two of my questions. It had to be a record. Not that they led anywhere. At least this way I could get back to Aspen before Oliver… Well, I wasn’t sure what he’d be doing.
I picked up my pace, just in case, grimacing as my stitches rubbed against my pants.
Rune sat patiently at the healers’ wing doors, and I quickly ruffled her head before entering.
Passing the healers’ station, I noticed a cracked door—the one that always had a glowing yellow handle, remained closed, and that Sam only entered.
I glanced around; most of the healers were tending to patients or too busy to notice my subtle stretch over their clerical desk as I peeked through the opening.
Rows of vials lined a counter, each filled with red, black, or faintly pink-tinged liquid.
Blood? It had to be. There was no other explanation.
The black had to be from an infected Damned, and the red from a blood-banded.
The pinkish fluid threw me for a moment until I thought of the dead and their glistening soul wounds. Was Sam studying it?
“I know, Neph—Oliver.” Aspen’s voice pulled me from my snooping.
“Good. Don’t forget it, prin—Aspen.”
I walked into Aspen’s room, eyes only for Oliver. “Don’t forget what?”
Oliver rose from his chair, yawned, then patted my shoulder. “Just some male-to-male talk, Luce. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
I could only imagine what kind of male-to-male talk they’d have. But before I could pry, he was already walking out the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To bed. Babysitting hours have expired, and I have my nightly checkup soon. And nothing will keep me from missing that.” He straightened his ugly patient gown and fluffed his moppy locks as if getting ready for a date. Only Oliver.
I turned to Aspen. He sat on the healer’s bed, redressed in his torn jacket and pants from earlier. The cuts and scrapes along his face and neck were all healed. The remnants of dirt and blood had been washed away.
I found it odd that his injuries didn’t prompt an extreme reaction to punish myself, but then I realized I did punish myself because I received more injuries than he did.
Whether that was intentional or not, I wasn’t sure.
Or maybe the fact that he scorched my insides with his power satisfied the guardian bond’s needs.
Sighing, I sat in Oliver’s vacated seat. Might as well get this over with.
“How did you know using the ceremonial words would work?”
Misery lined his eyes, along with an emotion I was starting to get real sick of. Guilt. He had so much of it, it was a wonder we weren’t all drowning in the ocean filling him.
“I didn’t. I made a snap decision based on assumptions and some feeble facts.”
I gestured for him to elaborate.
He clasped his hands in his lap and leaned back on the bed.
“What do you know about the cordistella bond?”
My heartbeat stuttered, unsure I liked the start of his explanation.
“I know according to angelic lore they’re two halves of the same soul created by the Weaver.
They’re equals. They’re supposed to be able to feel each other’s emotions.
They can’t harm each other.” Or shouldn’t be able to.
“I know about the praesidium. The ability to eventually track each other’s essence, and the potential for mind-to-mind connection. ”
Aspen nodded. “Do you know about the scars or the union ceremony?”
Vaguely. I shook my head.
“There are stages to the bond. First, you become aware of it. Usually, a tingly touch is the start. Proximity allows for the emotional connection to grow, and the stronger it does, the more protective you become, hence the praesidium. Then, as the bond builds, trust is established, relationships form, and there’s the choice to accept.
It doesn’t have to be mutual, although it can be disastrous if it isn’t.
” He repeatedly squeezed his hands together, tendons snapping back and forth over bone.
“But if you accept and say the words, any wound they ever receive will be reflected on your skin, and you will bear half their pain.”
“Does that mean if I were to get stabbed and bleed out, they would too?”
“No. Remember, the cordistella bond was created to form efficient warrior teams. If both parties accept the bond and one is injured, the other will take half the pain so they can continue to fight, but they won’t bleed.
Only scar. What you described is something that can happen when only one accepts.
Not always. But our world likes balance and punishes imbalance. ”
“Good to know. So what’s your point?”
“My point is a question. What part of the cordistella bond is different from the guardian bond?”
“The tattoo. The manipulative control. And you said it yourself—you can’t feel my emotions.”
“I can’t. Just as you’ve never been able to sense me as I can you. I could find you anywhere in this world.”
“Okay?”
“When I was young, my mom once told me, ‘Creation is power, but controlling creation is domination.’”
His mom told him that when he was five?
Aspen’s lips twitched the slightest bit at my expression, his hands relaxing for a moment. “My mom was a seer, remember? Everything she said and did had a purpose. Which is why I think she told me that when I was so young—so I’d remember it now.”
“I’m not following.”
“What if the guardian bond is the cordistella bond, but angel-made? The shadow-wielder said Etan put a rune on him. What if he created it with the intention of choosing the pairing?”
“Why would he want to do that?” From what I remembered from Ronen’s memory, Etan was a vicious, soulless angel. Why would he want anything to do with cordistella pairings?
“What better way to control other angels than by choosing who they bond with? Think about the army he could create if he paired his most loyal servants with anyone he wanted instead of leaving it to fate.”
“Except Ronen said it wasn’t a choice. The rune chooses the best protector.”
Aspen puzzled over that before adding, “Maybe that was the consequence for attempting to play the Weaver. It resulted in a perversion of the bond, but one that almost worked in their favor.”
“How so?”
Aspen leaned over and brushed the cheek Amelia healed. “It forces acceptance and complete compliance. So even if the pairing isn’t their choosing, the other person loses their autonomy in service to their pair regardless.”
“You’re saying that essentially, if your theory is correct, I’ve already been forced to accept our bond.”
He nodded.
This couldn’t be happening.
“And you—you accepted it earlier? So we’re…” Heavenly Hell. “Officially bonded?” Oliver was wrong. So, so wrong. If I hadn’t been sitting, I thought my legs would’ve given out.
“Yes.”
My ears stopped working after that word. Aspen kept talking, but nothing registered. I dropped my face between my legs. I tried to breathe. In and out. In and out. But my damned lungs malfunctioned, unable to understand the words slow and calm.
Were we bonded now?
What did it mean?
How would it affect us? Ronen?
Heavenly Hell, I hurt him.
I hurt myself.
I didn’t have a choice.
I wanted a choice.
“Breathe, Lucille.”
It was just too much.
This was all too much.
I didn’t want this.
I just wanted a damned choice.
My mom didn’t give me that.
My mom—
Aspen grabbed my face. “Deep breath, sweetheart.”
No. No! He couldn’t help me. This was his fault.
“I didn’t get—I didn’t get a—”
I clutched my chest, heaving.
“A choice.”
Rune barreled between us, forcing Aspen’s tingling hands away from my face, and sat in front of me with two big, beautiful glowing eyes.
Ronen?
I let myself fall into the gold, knowing he was watching, knowing he had to be pissed at me, and sank my hands into Rune’s fur. Something inside me settled, easing the weight of my reality.
I took another deep breath, filling myself with the scent of Rune and Ronen. Maybe I didn’t have a choice, but we all survived. That had to be worth it, right? None of us died. I was bonded to Aspen, but none of us died.
I dropped my head to Rune’s forehead, trying my damndest to keep steady. She licked my cheek, and her shadow fur tickled my skin.
“Give us a minute, please?” I whispered. I’d be okay. I could handle this.
She growled, whether because of Ronen or her own feelings, I wasn’t sure. But she listened, backing out of the room.
The moment I disconnected from those golden eyes, I met the guilt filling Aspen’s.
“Aspen, stop. Heavenly Hell. You made the right call.”
We lived. Focus on that, Lucy.
“I upset you.”
“My choices are being taken away from me again.”
That didn’t help him.
“I wasn’t trying to force a connection. I just wanted to give you my energy, but I couldn’t fully connect.
My system kept trying to attack yours. I drained myself more trying to prevent hurting you than I did giving you energy.
But once I latched on, I couldn’t extract myself until you were done. It all felt very wrong.”
My heart stopped. “So we’re not connected?”
“No.”
I covered my face as the boot digging into my sternum eased.
“I’m sorry, Lucille. I wanted to help. I didn’t mean—”
I shot up from my chair. “Hey,” I urged gently. “I would’ve either died trying to save us, or we all would’ve been ripped apart without you. Stop with the guilt. Unless you runed yourself with the guardian bond, you’re not to blame.”
Heavenly Hell, that was hard to say. If we were officially bonded, I don’t think I would’ve been able to.
His expression remained drawn.
“When will you give yourself some grace?” I whispered, brushing a lock of hair back from his face.
“When the memories stop haunting my waking world,” he whispered back. “When I stop fucking things up.”
“You promised, one more day and night.”
“I did.”
“And after?”
Aspen dropped his gaze to the floorboards. “I’m trying, Lucille.”
I hated how broken he was. How broken we both were. It was difficult trying to be strong for him when I could barely be strong for myself. I’d be sleeping in his room tonight, and I felt like a horrible person for not wanting to. I needed a night to myself to process.
But I also needed to make sure he lived.