3. Injection
CHAPTER THREE
Injection
Ihad been still for so long it was a wonder my skin had not begun to mold to the bricks. I wished for it to devour me. It was the perfect corner to die in. From here, I had a clear vantage of both cells and the small cage against the wall opposite to me.
I watched her every twitch, every burrow into the sawdust, noting the differences in her behavior. Piper, no, she, had behaviors Piper had never had.
“She has been catatonic for close to a sennight, son,” Drusilla’s voice cajoled. I rolled my head where I braced it against the brick wall, the textured edges digging into my skull. It was the only time I could feel my otherwise numb body.
Drusilla paced a healthy distance from the bars holding Cassiel captive. She’d come many times to speak at Cassiel. First asking him why he was being difficult, then shifting into anger.
“You would be doing her a favor. This is against the natural order. No redblood has ever survived the severance of their wraithling bond. She will waste away, and that will hurt more. Let her go.”
If I had the capacity to laugh, I would.
How unbelievably ridiculous. Not what she was saying, because that was very obvious.
My body had begun to shut down, and I had not peed in that wretched bucket set in the corner of the cell for far too long.
It was her tone, so loving and soft. The woman did not understand a single thing about love.
Cassiel opened his eyes. Drusilla inhaled hard. This was the first reaction he had given during her countless visits. She stumbled forward, her black gown rustling around her legs.
“Son,” she whispered.
Cassiel moved so quickly he became a blur.
With my following blink, he had his hand out of the bars, the chain on his ankles clanking together with the rush of motion.
Drusilla yelped, pulling back at the last moment out of his range.
A wide tear ripped down the front of her gown’s skirt, and the fabric came away in Cassiel’s hand, leaving a gaping hole.
Drusilla pressed her palm to her heaving chest. The tense moment was filled with her ragged breaths.
“Free her,” he bit out.
Her lip trembled, but she stiffened her spine. “You are only hurting her, my boy. Release her from the agony. I do not want to force it, but I will.” With those final, stiff words, she turned on her slippers and left.
It had taken her much longer to connect why I was still alive than it had taken me. It all returned to Cassiel and his necromancy. Cassiel tossed the ripped material to the ground and aggressively raked his hand through his hair. He backed away from the bars.
Shuffling sounds came from the path leading to the only exit.
“My lord, this has not been cleared with the rest of the council—”
“Pah,” Al exclaimed. “Lord Vaner knows the importance of understanding Elysian pairs. I cannot study them if she is dead.”
Al and another man dressed in officer garb rounded the corner onto the path leading to the cells. Drusilla disappeared around the bend without saying a word to them.
“Unlock the girl’s cell,” Al ordered as they drew closer.
Seeing the officer’s uniform without the gold embroidery told me he was low ranking. He fidgeted, shuffling from foot to foot.
“Do as he says.” Egan’s familiar voice boomed down the hall. Both the officer and I whipped our heads toward him.
“Egan.” A wave of relief rushed through me.
He had not outed me when I was stashed in the wagon. So easily he could have announced my presence, but he hadn’t.
“Yes, Sergeant.” The officer scrambled to grab his keys and shoved one of them into the hole. With a twist of his wrist, I was free, and Egan stood outside the cell.
An intense wave of grief flooded my system.
“Egan,” I whispered. I pressed my trembling hands under me, but I had no strength to push myself up. My arm gave out, and I toppled over, landing on my elbow.
Bursts of pain kept me still, my breathing shallow. I found myself hauled up and against a chest. I gasped to find Egan so near my face.
A deep rumble came from behind us—a grinding of stone on stone.
“Get your hands off her.” Cassiel’s voice was like a whip.
Egan’s steps slowed, and his mouth thinned.
“Such terrifying anger,” Al mused, close to sounding awed by Cassiel’s outburst. A bang resonated. It didn’t take me long to deduce it was the sound of flesh meeting metal. “Bring her to my lab, Sergeant.”
Whatever Egan was about to spew at Cassiel didn’t make it past his pressed lips, and he continued walking, the echoing bangs following us. The young officer rushed to keep pace with Egan.
Al shuffled a few paces behind us, breathing audible as he struggled to follow.
Egan cradled me as carefully as possible, but every point he touched ached. He rounded the corner onto a different path. Thick stone made up the walls and floors. Torches lit the way further up. Where had they been keeping us?
The hall inclined, and Egan pressed on. His stride dragged, slower with each step, sweat beading at his temples.
“I can walk,” I said.
He shook his head, a look of determination settling across his features.
A metal door came into view that had a thick reflective slab across the front.
The officer hurried forward to a metal section jutting out.
His ring of keys clanged against each other, and he selected a large one with a circular design at the top.
He shoved it into the slot and twisted it.
A clang and the clicking of gears screeched through, almost to the point of pain as the latch lifted, settling upward.
As soon as it was complete, the gear continued clicking until the mechanism opened the door. The door began closing as soon as we were past. Bright sunlight speared my irises. I flinched, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. The light turned the inside of my eyelids a faint yellow.
“You agreed to place him at the forefront as king.” Drusilla’s voice carried.
I tensed with the urge to throw myself forward to wrap my hands around her neck.
“Do not,” Egan whispered so low I almost could not make out his words.
I forced myself to focus, blinking until the parlor came into view. Drusilla sat across from Vaner who lounged on a throne much too large for his slighter frame.
“You are too emotional about this. It is best that Al handles the Elysian Pair.” Vaner turned to us, that slimy smile aimed at me.
Drusilla followed his gaze. Her lips thinned, and she went silent.
“You two continue to argue over this?” Al tsked, passing as the slab of stone sealed behind him. “There are steps that must be taken, Lady Drusilla,” he offered, his tone even. “Take the girl to my laboratory, young Vaner,” he shooed us off.
Egan did not hesitate, taking a sharp turn through a propped open door braced by two officers.
The officer rushed beside Egan. “Here, sir,” he stuttered, holding out the jingling key ring. Egan balanced me in one arm and took the keys from the officer to clip it to his belt. With a slight nod, he returned the chamber we just left.
Had the Guard been in on it from the start? I looked at Egan again. Who better to ask?
“You have known what they planned to do to Cassiel?”
His blue eyes flicked down toward me briefly. “Yes.”
“How can the Guard go along with all of this?” I tried to keep my tone as even as possible when what I wanted to do was scream.
“This has been planned since before I was born, Amara,” he murmured. “Every piece perfectly lined up across the board. Officers who had pure loyalty to the council were placed in powerful positions.”
“That’s why you’re a sergeant now.”
He only inclined his head. “Lord Draven has not been placed as a figurehead by pure chance before father destroyed any evidence of the old world.”
“Did you know what I had when I shoved it into your coat?”
“No.” There was sincerity in his blue eyes. Then he drew in a sharp breath, and when I turned my head, I saw the two officers guarding the entrance to the council wing.
“Sir,” they chorused, and one of them opened the door to the hall section that led toward Al’s workspace entrance.
Egan strode through. Raised voices echoed. The female one, very familiar.
“Vera?!” I pressed my palm against Egan’s chest, pushing up, but he stiffened his grip with a curse.
“Stop,” he hissed.
The recognizable swish of slippers padding across the polished floors sounded. Vera and Branwen rounded into view.
“You will get them killed,” he warned. I froze in his arms, meeting his eyes. “It will behoove you to play along if you do not want them to disappear.”
I could hear my pulse in my ears, loud and rapid. Squeezing my nails into my palms helped calm my panic.
“They believe the lies,” Egan said. “You are no longer Amara. Understood?”
Vera and Branwen reached us, their faces drawn and wide. I didn’t reach for them in a hug as I wanted. I kept my expression bland. They slowed, visibly growing more confused.
“This is the king’s consort.”
Vera and Branwen shared a frown. Vera opened her mouth, and Branwen gripped her arm. In a smooth glide, she curtsied. Vera followed her lead after a beat.
“My lady,” Branwen murmured. “I apologize for our hasty approach.”
Vera’s eyebrows furrowed. “I could have sworn I heard Amara.”
I watched them, keeping my features stiff and confused.
“You are mistaken.” Egan lied so easily.
“She is gone?” Vera whispered. An uncomfortable, heavy beat of silence followed. She cleared her throat. “We have not been allowed out. May we speak to the council about this?”
Branwen tugged at Vera.
“I will bring your request to Lord Vaner,” Egan said, not elaborating. He looked at the officer, standing with his arms flat against his sides. “Escort them back to their parlor.” He looked at them. “No more leaving.”
“Yes, sir,” the officer said.
Branwen and Vera continued to eye me, but I did not let my mask slip. I could see when they believed it was no longer me. Their shoulders dropped, and they turned to follow the officer back to the feeder hall.