3. Injection #2
“They have been inquiring about your whereabouts and whether the transfer of His Highness’s bondmate was successful.”
“Put me down.” He didn’t twitch. “Please, Cassiel,” I gasped and stilled. “I-I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Egan’s lips twisted wearily. “Do not try anything.”
“Considering my permanently damaged leg, how exactly do you expect me to get away?” I groused.
He snorted and lowered my feet to the ground. The cold from the polished floors seeped through my slippers.
I limped over to the pane looking out into the courtyard. Sunlight had already faded, giving way to dusklight. The orange and red hues of the sky fell across the garden.
Or what was left of it.
I pressed both palms onto the icy surface.
Below, where the garden’s intricate maze had once stood, there was nothing.
In its place was a seared landscape as if Hollows had wrought chaos.
Charred remains of what used to be flowers sprawled through the expanse.
I tracked a trail from the entrance all the way to the middle section of the garden where I would sit.
In the very place was a server in the basic redblood servant frock, scrubbing a section of a wide charred spot.
“The prophet.”
Lucinda had mentioned her mother set herself ablaze to help us escape. This was the outcome.
I let out a shaky breath, recalling the faint screams from when we crossed through that tunnel with Damien. I made myself turn toward the stacks of fresh blossoms, attempting to collect myself.
“Did Vaner poison Cassiel?”
His expression twisted with disgust. “I do not know how you can refer to that monster so casually.”
I shoved down my defensive urges. “Answer the question.”
He sighed. “You already knew they poisoned him with the feeders.” I did, but I also wanted to see how he behaved when I knew he was telling the truth.
“What’s that thing Al has that breaks his bones?” That was my true question. That thing that had so easily brought Cassiel down.
“An effigy. It took Al decades to master its use.” His mouth twitched down at the corners. “Many people died.” It wasn’t a direct poison. “They were injecting feeders with an alchemical binding.”
“Binding?” I narrowed my eyes. “That inky substance they injected me with?”
“He calls it Elixir, but from my understanding, he adds another component. Something about the most poisonous flower to exist—”
“A fleurlet,” I whispered.
He nodded.
“Cassiel saw me receive that injection. What was he told it was?” I asked sharply.
“A redblood treatment that kills impurities in your bloodstream. He believed it would protect you from the Plague.”
As always, they used hatred toward redbloods to their advantage. I couldn’t stop my lip from curling with disgust. I turned back to the garden.
“They used you to pump more Elixir into him. The other feeders never receive as much as you did.” His lips also curled with disgust. “They tormented you until you lost consciousness.” He turned his face away as if recalling that day.
“The garden is being restored.” There was no inflection in my voice.
“Yes,” he answered my non-question.
I pulled away from the window, leaving the outline of my hands behind. “Will you help me esc—”
He squeezed my shoulder. I clamped my lips shut.
“Do not utter one more word.” I pursed my lips. He exhaled slowly. “Lord Vaner—”
“You mean your father.”
“My father,” he corrected, inclining his head, “is formidable.”
“Exactly. And you must know how to stop him.”
“You had your chance to escape.” A smidgen of frustration leaked into his tone.
“One failed attempt does not mean I give in. Do you expect me to sit there and do nothing?”
He sighed and cupped my cheek. “I am angry you didn’t manage it. Do not make your life harder by fighting when there is no way out.” His smile turned wry. “I have tried.”
I kept my lips sealed, not arguing.
“Amara, you’re as good as dead. A new age has come, and the council dictates.
They have sent out officers to search for any dissidents.
They are coming down harder on all redbloods.
Any small infraction and there are orders to slaughter.
Even bluebloods that come to the aid of redbloods are not safe. ”
“I’m sure that doesn’t apply to Elites,” I said, my lips numb.
“We have yet to encounter one that helps a traitor.” His lips twisted wryly. “The news will come out in phases. The Warlord King has fallen ill. Infected by a redblood with the Hollow Plague.”
My lips parted on a breath.
“They are posing this to get rid of more of us.”
His face fell, head dropping. “You will not survive. Neither of you will see the dawnlight, but I promise to get you the best comforts meanwhile . . .”
Heavy weight pressed down on me. He’d resigned himself to how things were.
Settled on following the council’s decree, despite the cost to redbloods.
Giving up would be the easy way, but looking into Egan’s hopeless gaze .
. . I could not let myself fall into the same hole.
There had to be a way out. Cassiel had to leave this place to regain his strength.
As much as I loathed him for his lack of belief in me, his presence and survival would directly disavow the council.
And what held him bound was this effigy.
Would destroying the item with which they hurt him free him of their control?
The doors muffled a boisterous laugh.
“Al’s coming.” Egan pulled back, his grip slipping away.