Nocturn
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Lord Bjorn’s body swayed and thudded forward, driving the arrow deeper. Then the feathered end snapped from the weight.
Silence.
An officer stood beside Lord Vaner holding a bow. On his other side was Egan, a blank look on his face.
“Feed it to the Hollows in the pit,” Lord Vaner ordered.
Cassiel’s gaze bounced from Lord Vaner to Drusilla to the body.
“The council was not summoned,” Cassiel said icily.
Lord Vaner approached, slowly, hands clasped together, black robe dragging behind him. It seemed as if he were part of the polished floors with how he floated over.
“Apologies, Your Highness,” Lord Vaner’s tone turned mocking at the title.
Cassiel cocked his head.
Before he could say anything, Lady Drusilla faced Lord Vaner. “This is not what we agreed to.”
Lord Vaner reached down, grabbed my arm, and forced me to my feet.
He motioned and a beat later Piper was ripped from my arms. Piper squeaked and thrashed against the officer, but he had the back of her fur bunched tightly, not allowing her reach to bite him.
Lord Vaner grabbed the back of my neck to stop me from lunging for Piper.
“Release her,” Cassiel ordered in a silky threat. He stood still as stone, every indent of his face carved harshly.
“I have forgotten how foolish Elysian Pairs are,” Lord Vaner scoffed.
Cassiel’s shoulders stiffened.
“This body may be weak, but I am ancient compared to you, Warlord.” He turned away from Cassiel with ease. “But you,” he smiled, studying my body. His sickly, mossy smell burned my nose. “I will enjoy being hosted by a woman again. The children my lineage tends to birth are predominantly male.”
I yanked my head back before he touched my face.
Cassiel came toward us, rage morphing his expression. Lord Vaner didn’t move, his frame relaxed and gleeful. Before Cassiel touched him, he yanked his hand away with a hiss, staring at his wrist twisted into an unnatural angle.
I hated the confusion on Cassiel’s face. Everything he believed was about to be imploded.
“Lord Vaner is ancient, from a primary council. He has worn the bodies of others,” I said, watching Cassiel for a reaction.
“How do you know this?” Drusilla accused. Her eyes widened. “The prophet burning herself . . . She knew of you.”
Cassiel had become still as stone. He raised his stunned gaze to me. I could not do anything to stifle the blame in mine.
“I am here, Lord Vaner,” Al announced, holding something. “I did the best I could with what I had,” he huffed.
“The injection for the redblood?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Al mumbled to himself, rifling through the pockets of his apron.
Cassiel met my eyes for a brief second, then he was gone, taking hold of Al’s throat. Al squealed and did something with what he held. Cassiel dropped to his knees, releasing him. Inky blood spilled from his mouth. He spat, falling onto his palms.
“Cassiel!” I cried, reaching for him, but Lord Vaner slammed me to the ground. My hip smacked against the hard floor. The force stole my breath. I was a walking bruise at this point.
Drusilla’s voice echoed my call for Cassiel. She watched everything, her eyes wildly looking from one person to the next as her shoulders heaved.
“What did you do to him?” I spat breathlessly at Al.
“Miss Amara,” Al crowed, sounding pleased.
“Always a pleasure, you rascal. You found the prophet, didn’t you?
” He tsked, wiggling his wrinkled finger at me.
“Do not worry, he will heal the injury. I just popped one of his lungs.” He waved the stiff figure in his hand at me.
It had jutting arms, legs, and a head poking outward in a crude shape of a person.
“H-how?” One thing about Al was that he loved talking, especially about his experiments. Using my palms to brace myself, I lifted to my knees.
“I bound it to his body. If I want him on his knees, all I have to do is break his legs.” He scoffed. “But it is not as easy as that sounds. It took decades to concoct.”
Cassiel continued to vomit inky blood.
“Do not do this. Al, please.” His thick white brows furrowed. My gaze bounced around for help, searching for anyone. Egan had yet to look at me as he stood at attention beside the man holding a bow.
“But I must.” A feverish light filled Al’s features. “I have many other things to develop and discover. Lord Vaner will help me reach immortality once we have transferred him to your body.”
“That was the reason for the false prophecy?” I whipped my head toward Vaner standing over me. “You want to infect my body?”
“The Warlord’s bondmate’s body,” he corrected.
“Stop answering the girl, Vaner. Explain to me why exactly you two have been working together without my knowledge?” Drusilla’s voice snapped across the Hall.
My focus was still mainly on Cassiel, who had finally stopped spitting up blood.
He remained kneeling, curled into his stomach as he struggled to breathe.
“Now, now, Drusilla, this is as it should be.” He cajoled, extending both hands out in a supplicating manner as he faced Drusilla. I kept still, watching Cassiel struggle to breathe.
“We agreed I would make all decisions concerning my son.” A snippet of their conversation reached me. Lady Drusilla had motioned to Lord Cassiel Draven. “He is still king!”
“Son?” I mouthed. Drusilla’s son?
Cassiel’s head was lowered, not reacting to the statement. Had he known she was his mother?
In a quick move, Cassiel burst off the floor, lunging toward us. Lord Vaner moved to the side, proving how poorly Cassiel had calculated the distance.
Instead of colliding with Vaner, he crashed into one of the officers standing a few paces behind me. Burns exploded across his hands as he tore his fingers through his throat. The officer holding Piper staggered to the side, away from the bloodshed, making Piper’s body sway.
“Cassiel!” I screamed so loudly my throat stung.
“Al!” Lord Vaner shouted.
Cassiel’s knees buckled and thudded on the polished floor. It was so forceful that cracks spidered outward where he landed.
“It is too much, too soon, Lord Vaner—”
He turned his furious gaze toward Al. Al pursed his lips and shrugged, his knobby shoulders bobbing under his too-big robes.
“Ah, sorry, sorry.”
Cassiel coughed, his midsection bowing, and he toppled to the ground, clutching his side.
“All his ribs breaking and mending should keep him down longer. Next time it will be your neck, my lord,” Al warned.
“Enough!” Drusilla, Cassiel’s mother, shouted. The one word so similarly spat like her son.