40. Paid in Flesh #2
He gasped, shooting upright, then groaned and favored his side. His glassy eyes blinked, taking in the water and me. Confusion flickered, but he gripped the edge of the tub and pulled himself up with effort. He stepped out, water dripping off and puddling on the stone ground.
“What is wrong?” I whispered, the candle shaking in my hand.
So many thin lines veined out from his breastbone as if his veins had been turned inside out. A black droplet beaded along the thick one traveling down his abdomen.
“I am fine,” he slurred. He took a step and stumbled, falling onto the floor.
My scream caught, and I fell to my knees, setting the candle beside him. I grasped his shoulders and pushed him onto his back.
“Cassiel,” I choked out.
Something was wrong. My hands refused to stop trembling. I shot to my feet, running out of the chamber, then almost collided with one of the elders, Waylan.
He caught my arm, helping me gather myself. “What has you in a rush?”
My plea caught in my throat. The lines bracketing his mouth deepened.
“I—” I swallowed. I caught the gaze of the young man watching me, standing a few paces behind. A wealth of hostility lay there.
Let me think!
I hissed a breath out. “Pardon me for not watching the path.” I forced a smile and freed myself, walking around him. He continued to watch me with a frown, but nodded.
I hurried away.
It was a given that no one had fond feelings for Cassiel. If I let emotions rule and exposed his weakness, would some retaliate while he was ill?
I let out a breath and straightened, entering where Vera, Branwen, Lucinda, and Damien still sat.
“I thought you were going to rest!” Branwen called, grinning at me. Seeing her wearing a basic tan gown was a nice change.
“Ah, yes, I was just curious about something Al mentioned and hoped to consult Lucinda.” I slowed my exhale, relaxing my shoulders.
“Sure,” Lucinda said, standing.
“Amara, is something the matter?” I followed Vera’s gaze to my drenched dress. I had not felt it.
“No.” I relaxed my smile.
Lucinda gave me a perplexed look and followed me out of the chamber.
“One moment,” I croaked. She eyed me with concern, but continued to follow. I didn’t speak until we reached the door. “Something is wrong with Cassiel.”
Her eyebrows flew up, and she entered. “Other than that monstrous thing between his legs?” she teased.
“Lucinda,” I huffed exasperatedly. She was already crouched near his head. I rushed to the bed and grabbed a fur blanket to toss it over his private area.
“I have read about this in one of Al’s notations.” She looked up at me. “It’s withering.”
“What is withering?”
“It is not something withering. This illness, it is called ‘withering’.”
“And what is it? An infection? A different type of plague?” Exasperation filled my voice.
She swiped her hands on her gown draped over her knees and stood.
“There is no single cause to withering. It describes an issue that stems from the mind that turns physical. It can be anything–wait, your wraithling,” she gasped. Her eyes flicked to Cassiel on the ground. “Did you complete the Elysian bond?”
I shook my head, the thickness in my throat not letting me speak. Her mouth dropped.
“What is it?” I exclaimed.
“Has he been keeping you tethered to life with his gift?”
“I—yes.”
She nodded, crouching and peering at the lines spreading from his breastbone. “Something must have set it off. Do you by any chance have injuries?”
How she phrased it seemed as if she believed this had recently appeared .
. . but that was not the truth. His little shows of weakness—a bloody nose, the blackening at his chest—all began earlier than I had noticed.
This was the reason. Not only was he keeping me alive, but bit by bit, he was fading.
She continued looking at me expectantly, and I numbly lifted my wrist where I had cut the unblemished skin I had sliced open repeatedly.
“No, I heal quickly.”
“There it is.” She pointed her finger at me. “It is not you healing. At least not yet, it is him. You hover between life and death with only him as a tether. Feeding helps him, but the tether is a hemorrhage."
“My blood replenished him?” I managed to ask.
“Yes, but for a moment, perhaps two. Every time you bleed, it takes from him, and every time he feeds, you are being healed by him. He cannot give fast enough to outrun how keeping you alive empties him.” She snapped her fingers. “That was what that dream was about,” she muttered to herself.
I reeled, watching her rub her temples. Cassiel had not responded. I went to his side and lowered beside him. All he had done was to keep me alive, and it was at a cost to him. Yet, he hid it from me. Even when I cut my arm, he did not stop me after the initial time. He had borne the weakening.
How he had behaved on the trip, weakening, paling, and still he carried me when I needed it. All he had sacrificed for me without my knowledge.
The path I bled was paid for by Cassiel. Then he had retreated and licked his wounds without a word to me.
I had no doubt he would not have told me if I had not found him like this.
“If I complete our bond, will this go away?” I trailed my fingertips over the lines. Most remained right under the surface of his skin, slightly raised and uneven. As though his own power had turned inward and begun to devour him.
She remained silent for a few beats. “In theory, yes. He would not be draining his gift to heal you at all times.”
“Okay,” I whispered. I owed him for healing me and putting him through such agony. Harming another was not in my nature, nor was knowing I had harmed someone when I could stop it.
Especially my bondmate. As maddened as he made me, I would not abuse his body this way. I’d festered over the line of text in the grimoire that had not left me since I read it.
“Okay,” I whispered. I grabbed his arm, bringing his hand up to my face. His hand fell limply back, and I leaned over him, poised to bite.
“No,” he croaked, hand clasping over my mouth to stop me. Cassiel coughed and rolled to the side, angling his face to the floor as if he would vomit. Nothing came up. He slapped his palm on the ground.
“Remain still for a few moments,” I ordered.
“No!” he bellowed, struggling to get to his feet. He snarled at Lucinda, and she yelped.
“I will leave you two alone.” She left quickly, her dress billowing behind her at her speed.
Cassiel was already at the bed, falling onto his side. He scooted higher, lifting his legs as if they were weighted down.
“You never told me cutting my arm was hurting you.” Cassiel lay back, eyes closed. He only grunted. “This is serious, Cassiel. Your body is devouring itself!”
“I need to rest,” he retorted mulishly.
Words didn’t come. I was too stunned by his indifference. He squinted and grabbed at the edge of the fur blanket, tugging it over his lap. It hid some of the withering signs. He laid his head back down, resting against the head of the bed.
Stubborn male.
Grabbing the journal from under the settee cushion, I carried it to the bed. I began to read the part about bondmates as I walked over.
The bite will fuse those Elysian paired.
His breathing slowed, then regained its usual speed. As much as it seemed like he was not listening—he was. I didn’t read the rest of it. Not aloud.
Elysian paired—not fated. Two in balance, each the answer to the other’s lack.
Where there is harmony, there is the bond, and with the bond, a gift.
To sense the other’s peril, and shield against it.
Yet let none mistake it. It binds, it does not compel the heart.
It ties the thread, it does not command what runs along it.
What grows between the paired must be their own, or it does not bloom at all.
It left me feeling as off balance as the first time I read it.
“If I claim you, you will no longer be drained by me.” I steeled my voice.
One heartbeat, two heartbeats, then he finally stirred, dragging himself awake.
The intensity of his gaze stripped me bare.
“No.”