51. Mess
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Mess
Istepped over one of the many bodies littered across the Hall. Cassiel had not only dispatched council members, it seemed he had also slaughtered part of the Guard with the amount of deceased.
I couldn’t contain my horrified look toward Cassiel.
“They tried to attack me,” Cassiel explained, shrugging.
Striding through the corpse-filled halls was .
. . different. At each entryway, officers no longer stood guard.
The doorways lay empty, doors ajar to the connecting halls.
I slowed beside a familiar slack face. Officer Jahrod lay among the sprawled deceased, a slice across his throat.
This was where blind loyalty had led him.
I rubbed my chilled arms. Cassiel strode beside me in a casual glide as we sought the hidden passage that led to the kitchen. Cassiel slowed, head cocked. His eyes narrowed. I had to put more effort into my stride to reach him.
The entrance to Al’s workshop was ajar.
I drifted toward it.
“What are you doing?” He was much too focused.
“Taking a small detour?” he drawled, moving in front of me to take the lead. I descended behind him. Al had three valises scattered about, glass strewn across the ground, and was currently stuffing parchment away. In true Al fashion, he seemed to be spread thin, not knowing what to escape with.
Dread kindled at my breastbone and settled in my stomach, and I knew. “Cassiel!” I screamed.
He moved—rapid, fluid—and caught the sword in his palm mid-arc toward his neck before wrenching it away from the officer. Blood dripped from his hand. With his other hand, he wound it around the officer’s throat and squeezed. A snap left us in silence.
“Dearie, I am relieved to see you alive,” Al said, hands wringing. I eyed him skeptically. “I speak the truth.”
His smile trembled, and his focus continued darting to Cassiel. He moved backwards. To any onlooker, it would seem he was nervous, but the Al I had watched was more intelligent than he liked to make others think.
“Did you plan to flee?” I asked in an even manner, watching his every step. I eyed the shelf paces behind him.
“Not at all!” he exclaimed. “I have seen the truth. The Saints have brought light to me. All the damage I have caused must be repented.”
“You are a coward,” I said, not believing a word.
“It may be, but I cannot bear torture.”
“Is that why you are moving toward the Elixir?” The inky liquid sat in a jar on his desk. His gaze skittered away.
“N-not at all!”
“Did you know it came from the cenote?” I stepped forward, matching the distance he retreated.
He stopped backing away.
“You know of it?” he breathed. “Have you seen it? I have heard tales of—” He looked down at the blade protruding from his chest. He swayed and toppled over, falling with a thud, leaving Eliza within view.
“I have waited to do that,” Eliza sneered at Al’s body.
Her hands shook. She stood in the redblood servant gown. I stood frozen. Al lay dead on the ground with Eliza standing over him, her chest heaving.
“Please,” she cried, looking over my shoulder, then at me. “I kept Piper’s body safe. A-and your charge, Miriam Bjorn. I helped her.”
Cassiel casually swung the sword.
“Please,” another voice came from the side. Miriam poked her head out from the bookcase to make her way to Eliza’s side. Piper’s cage was in her arms, and she carefully set her down on one of the workstations.
“What were you both doing here?”
“I knew Al had tonics, potions, and coin here.” Eliza patted the satchel against her hip. “I thought he had fled already.”
“What do you want done with them?” Cassiel asked, hand settling on my shoulder. “I am happy to remove them.” I had no doubt what that meant, but I rebelled against the idea. Both had made decisions that I would not have, but that did not make them evil.
“Do not harm them,” I whispered, the knot in my throat refusing to let me speak more.
“Collect your things and leave the Kingdom,” Cassiel ordered.
“Yes, Your Highness, thank you.” Eliza curtsied and grabbed Miriam’s arm. She had not moved.
“I am sorry,” Miriam said.
“I know,” I croaked. When I did not say more, she turned away, swiping her eyes. “Miriam.” She whirled. “Your father is dead.” He had died by an arrow after delivering me to Vaner, but I kept that part to myself.
Tears welled, and she nodded, following Eliza’s prodding.
“Take care with the latch. It is loose,” Eliza directed.
They disappeared up the steps. I blinked to clear my vision. Every step toward Piper seemed heavy. Her black, beady eyes watched me with animal fear. I gripped the little bars on both sides. As I lifted the cage, the door swung open, and she exploded free.
“Piper!” My cry stuck in my throat. The ferret dashed up the staircase, fleeing in panic. Cassiel moved toward her.
“No.” I caught his arm, struggling to breathe. “Let her be.”
I forced the words out, knowing it was right. I said it despite the grief clamping on my heart. That empty spot in my breastbone would remain empty. Living in the cage was not fair to her.
Lucinda had attempted to give me time to run while Vaner attacked.
And I had not run—not fast enough, not soon enough.
Her panther watched her fall, and died with her.
If any small mercy remained in this ruined realm, it was that the beast had gone with its person, and had not been left to grieve.
Piper was gone, not her body, but her essence, and it would be cruel to trap what remained.
Cassiel looked down at me and clasped my cheek, his sadness matching mine.