40. Paid in Flesh
CHAPTER FORTY
Paid in Flesh
When we reached the run-down shed, the only sounds were the clopping of horse hooves. A yawn escaped. Cassiel and I did not speak to each other. Not even into my mind. He had fully withdrawn.
All I kept thinking about were his words while the fog had hold of him.
I squeezed the horn of the saddle as Abrax jolted.
My thighs ached, my legs—every bit of me hurt from my head to my toes.
I yearned for a bath. We had not stopped the entirety of the night other than to strap Jude and Liadan to the horses so that they did not fall.
We learned that the hard way. Fortunately, Liadan remained unconscious.
“No one is here,” Archer mused, dismounting and walking to the stable. He grabbed one side of the doors and pried it open. The wheels rolling as it opened echoed with a screech.
“Who goes there?” a male shouted.
“Rendal?”
“Archer? Is that you?”
Archer stepped into the moonlight beam.
A gasp came, then, “Go fetch Tabby.”
Footsteps retreated while others approached. A blade hung in Rendal’s hand. His eyes were wide and fearful.
“It really is you, Archer.”
“Who else would it be?” He stepped forward while Cassiel dismounted Abrax and reached for my waist.
“I—we . . . all thought . . .” The blade hit the ground, and he hugged Archer with hard pats on his back. “Is that Liadan and Jude?” he asked, staring at the mounts. I neared with Cassiel at my side.
“Yes, you’ll need to grab more men so we can take them to their chambers. They’re undergoing the change.”
“It was successful then,” the older man said gruffly, emotion in his voice. “Where is Wilem?”
Archer went silent, head dropping.
“Hollows attacked us,” I whispered.
The man looked at me. “And he did not make it . . .”
I simply shook my head.
A shout brought all our attention toward the opened hole in the ground.
“Archer!” The scream echoed.
“Tabitha?” His eyebrows furrowed. She pushed out from the hole and bolted forward, sobbing, then slammed against Archer.
“What is it?” Archer could hardly be heard over the hysterics.
“I will collect more men to bring in Liadan and Jude. And to care for the horses,” Rendal said.
Archer nodded and pulled Tabby up into his arms. She wound herself around him, and that was how he carried her down the steps.
Cassiel kept behind me as I descended. We arrived at the entrance as many came forward.
Four women and seven men circled Archer and Tabby, eyes red and faces splotchy.
Cassiel and I kept to the side of the cave, passing the tearful scene to get to the path.
I wanted to return to my chamber, sink into the bath and sleep for as long as I could.
The older man who greeted us waved out the seven men behind them. They all ascended, clearing the space.
“You have all been gone for a fortnight,” Lucinda said.
“No we were not,” I gasped. Cassiel seemed just as stunned.
“We thought you were all dead, or at least everyone except His Highness and you.” Lucinda kept scratching her arm. One of the older women, with a shock of white hair, clapped her hands, sniffling.
“This calls for a celebratory dinner.”
Branwen came running through the rounded entrance. Her face softened with relief when she found my gaze. She ran to me and tossed her arms about my shoulders.
“Thank Saints you are well,” she breathed, shuddering. I patted her back until she retreated and pierced me with her excitement; her half-moon eyes glistened with joy. “I have a surprise.” She took firm hold of my hand and dragged me deeper inside until we were at the nearest parlor.
I looked over my shoulder to find Cassiel a few paces behind, watching me. He remained in the shadows, hidden. Branwen pulled me inside.
“Vera?” I shouted, and she looked up from where she sat upon the seat.
Vera’s eyes widened. Damien pressed her shoulder down, stopping her from getting up. I flew forward and hugged her. Her blonde hair tangled into my face. With a final squeeze, I retreated, knocking into something hard.
The walking stick rocked back and forth on its side; the angled top stopped it from rotating entirely.
I crouched to lift it and was faced with her leg .
. . or lack thereof. Everything from her mid-shin down was gone, and what remained was wrapped tight with a bandage.
Sorrow swelled forth. I had done this to her.
“None of that guilt,” Vera said, reaching for my arm and pulling me up. Damien grabbed the stick and leaned it against the table with a wink my way. “You saved me.”
A smile trembled on my lips.
“Come sit.” She patted the arm of the seat beside her. I moved toward it, and the oddest urge pulled me to turn.
Cassiel stood within the shadows, face masked from view. I hesitated calling him over.
‘Stay. I will be fine. I need a bit of rest.’
I watched him retreat, attempting to keep myself still so I did not follow.
He struck a lonely figure . . .
“Amara?” Vera was still speaking.
I shook it off and lowered on the cushioned seat surrounding the table hosting small, triangular sandwiches.
“Tell me of your escape from the House of Lords.”
I took one and nibbled at the edges. Crisp cucumber and soft bread slathered with creamy cheese. As it sat in my belly, the slight pinch receded. I had not realized how hungry I had become. As I ate, Vera and Branwen described their escape with Damien.
“The search for you and His Highness made our escape easier,” Branwen said. Throughout their descriptions of traveling, stealing provisions, and near-death Hollow attacks, I could not stop thinking of Cassiel and how something seemed off.
Of how alone he seemed.
I did not like it.
Even Lucinda had dragged a seat over and joined us.
“Are you well?” Vera asked, touching my knee. She studied me carefully as if reading through me.
I did not want him to be alone. Nor did I want him to be sad. That was the piece that bothered me so. He seemed so terribly sad.
“If you will excuse me. I think I will retire to bed.”
“How selfish of us! Of course, take your rest. We will be here when you rise,” Vera said. I hugged her first, then Branwen.
“I do not see the same sentimentality in our future,” Lucinda said to me as I straightened from my hug with Branwen.
“I would not even dream of it.” I grinned.
“Lucinda is not as cold as she pretends,” Vera tutted. “You are not fooling us.”
Lucinda rolled her eyes, and the girls continued to exchange quips back and forth.
As I turned, Damien caught my hand. “Thank you for saving Vera,” he whispered.
“I am glad you found each other.” I strangled his hand, yet he did not release me, so I waited patiently for whatever final words he had left.
“And I am sorry about your wraithling.” His eyebrows angled down. “She was a lively little creature.”
“She would have loved to hear you say that,” I choked out, and with a final squeeze of his hand, I left.
So much emotion pulled me in different directions.
Piper and her loss . . . My chest ached at my heart, not my breastbone because she was no longer there. Even so, she lived within me and always would.
I reached the path leading to my chamber. Pressure swirled in my throat, an intensity that mounted with each step. Cassiel and I had much to speak about. What happened in the fog took the primary spot.
His claim about not knowing how to express his emotions and thoughts became more apparent. I had believed it was pure arrogance that kept him harsh and silent.
But perhaps he just . . . did not know how to express himself.
It did not mean that excused him. All it did was help me understand him a bit more.
We had many times where we began an argument and he ended it with a harsh claim. He always walked away, or he used his body to stop the argument.
I stood before the wooden door and opened it with a heavy breath.
The candle on the nightstand burned halfway down, wax dripping onto the copper plate. No one lay on the bed. I found him in the tub, head tilted, arms stretched outward.
It was time we faced it full on.
I took my time approaching him. He did not turn.
“Cassiel,” I began, clearing my throat. He did not move. “What happened in The Barren? Is that truly how you feel?”
Still silence, not even a twitch. I reached for his arm. As soon as my fingertips touched his skin, it slid off the lip of the tub and sank into the water. That started him slipping lower and lower.
“Cassiel?!” I grabbed his shoulder, and the nudge pushed him to tilt to the side, head angling limply. “Cassiel!” I shouted, grasping his arm. His weight was too heavy, so it sent me slamming against the edge of the tub.
I clasped his face, forcing it toward me. He wasn’t conscious. I reached inside and pulled his arm out of the water. Inky lines caught my attention.
What is on his chest?
Black plumed from thin lines, staining the water.
I dropped his arm carefully along the lip of the tub and released.
He did not slip deeper. Then I hurried to the candle and lifted the copper plate it was adhered to.
The flame flickered from my quick stride back to him.
I brought it over the clear water and went cold.
Thin lines spread over Cassiel’s chest, beginning near his breastbone. The lines stretched down to his sides. Some crawled down his hip. Then there were the ones slightly thicker, running down his abdomen. They wept his black blood into the water, turning the front of it foggy.
Something was terribly wrong. I had a feeling he was not being entirely truthful when I asked him about the bleeding nose the first time. So casually he had brushed me off and named it a cost of necromancy. At the second bloody nose, where true suspicion roused, he had lashed out at me.
I should have pushed him to tell me.
“Cassiel?” I grasped his shoulder, and he did not react. Panic caused my throat to tighten. “Cassiel!”