Chapter 49 Aftermath
Aftermath
Caspian looked at her in shock.
“Elizabeth, I—”
“You ruined everything. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but don’t think for a second that this isn’t somehow connected to me coming to live with you.
” Even as she said the words, a part of her wanted to collapse in his arms. The part that was exhausted from holding herself together all day and just wanted to be held, and have someone kiss her forehead, and comfort her.
But anger felt safer than grief, and she held onto it like armour.
The idea that he had somehow caused this made her hate herself for ever trusting him.
Her mouth formed a grim line.
“I swear to Lucifer that I had nothing to do with this.” He raised his hands, shocked.
“I do not want to hear it. I don’t want to hear any excuses. Not now. Not from you.” She put her head in her arms against her father’s desk, looking determinedly away from him.
“Elizabeth...” he tried again.
She stared resolutely in the other direction.
“Elizabeth, talk to me...” His voice cracked. “You’re breaking my heart.”
“You don’t have a heart.” Her words were cold as ice.
She rose, walking to the window, unable to face him.
“Please?”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“And you don’t have to,” he said, his tone consoling. She flicked her eyes to him. He had a hand raised in midair, as if he was debating putting it on her shoulder. Seeing her looking, he did, placing it on her shoulder in what she assumed was meant to be a comforting gesture.
The warmth of his hand almost undid her. For a split second, she wanted to lean into his touch, let him absorb some of the crushing weight on her shoulders. Instead, she shrugged off his hand and stepped out of reach.
She couldn’t afford his comfort. Not when he was the reason she needed it.
She swallowed, her heart hurting. She had killed them as surely as he had. Either by his hand, or one of his enemies, he was the reason they were—dead.
The image of their graves pressed upon her mind. She sniffed. They did not deserve this. Their only crime in this world was having her for a daughter.
Caspian stood solemnly behind her while she crossed her arms and stared outside. She wished he would leave.
Finally, she spoke, “I don’t know how, but I know in my bones that if I had never run off with you, this would have never happened, so I don’t want you here, and I’d like to be alone.”
“Elizabeth…”
He swallowed audibly behind her. He was a demon on unsure footing. A man ill-equipped to deal with a woman who was grieving.
A heavy silence stretched between them.
“I … I am not good with words,” Caspian began. “Or making someone feel better when they are sad, but I will be here.”
She whirled towards him in anger and opened her mouth to retort, but he placed a finger warningly on her lips.
“You can be alone, but I will not leave. I will wait outside until you are … ready. If you decide in an hour, or two, or ten that you wish for company or a ride to wherever you are going. I will wait for you. Whoever did this might be waiting for you to return, and I will not leave you until I know you are safe and in good company.”
She looked at him with incredulity.
“And when you are ready”—His eyes found hers, and his words became dangerously soft—“I will find whoever did this and put them underground.” The intensity in his eyes was frightening. The flames in his eyes burned brighter, as if talk of revenge and murder excited the demon who wore his flesh.
“Good,” was all she said.
She picked up her father’s journal and left the study, leaving Caspian standing there alone.
***
Caspian paced for hours outside the house. Once he arrived and saw the freshly marked graves, he figured out what had happened. His poor Elizabeth. He didn’t know what to do to make her feel better; he knew there was nothing he could do.
He wasn’t known for his kindness and sympathy. He was the worst person to hold her hand through it.
A bird squawked, and the sound of horses' hooves filled the air.
A white carriage rolled up the drive, and the door was thrown open. Out stormed a tall female figure with dark curly hair tied in an elegant knot at the top of her head.
“Asmodeus.” Lady Charlotte nodded at him as she stormed past. Upon seeing Caspian, she rolled her eyes. “Caspian.”
Affronted, Caspian stood between her storm of anger and the house, which his favoured human was grieving the biggest loss of her life.
Asmodeus, who stood beside him, looked equally outraged.
“Move,” Charlotte ordered, the tone rude.
“What do you mean, move?” Asmodeus snickered. It was quite comical to see a slender woman face down two demons who could extinguish her life with half a blink. As if she thought she had any chance to get past them if they didn’t let her pass.
“MOVE.”
“Why don’t you make me, little human?” Asmodeus took another step towards her with an evil smile that would have made most mortals flee.
Caspian stepped off to the side, content to let his friend handle this. Most grown men would have stepped back when a demon invaded their personal space, leering over them.
But Charlotte refused to be intimidated.
She strode up to the big demon, nearly nose to nose, and gave him a wicked smile.
“Fine.” And the girl stuck her leg under Asmodeus’s and yanked, making him stumble forward to catch his balance.
By the time he turned to glare, she was already striding towards the door.
“I’m going to see her, and neither of you will stop me. ”
Charlotte rapped sharply on the door. She knocked again, louder and more insistently.
“I feel sorry for whatever man ends up with that hellion,” Asmodeus muttered.
Elizabeth opened the door, eyes rimmed red.
Charlotte sighed at the sight of her friend. “Lizzy, it will be dark soon.” She crossed her arms. “My footman said you’ve sent him away and been here all day. Come home with me, I’ve been worried sick.”
Elizabeth sniffled. “I would like to stay.”
Charlotte raised her brows. “And I would like to eat all the sweets I want and stay slim.”
Elizabeth’s lips quirked upwards. A glimpse of her usual self before it was replaced by solemnity.
“You’re getting out of this house, and if you want to come back, you’ll take someone with you.”
“Caspian is here,” Elizabeth said in a low voice.
“Yes, I saw.” Charlotte’s words were laced with venom.
“I may go with him.”
“Lizzy!! Why? We will protect you here.”
“Because I can’t stay in Rhodea for a moment longer,” Elizabeth said, her voice breaking. “Everything reminds me of them. I can’t stay in this place.”
He did not catch the rest of their heated, whispered conversation, which went on for several minutes. Their heads were bent close together, speaking too quietly for him to make out a word. Charlotte gestured animatedly and whispered intently.
Some minutes later, the two ladies returned to where he and Asmodeus were standing in the lane.
Elizabeth said to him quietly, “I would like a ride back to my home in Veridas, then I would like to be left alone.”
Their eyes met, and she looked away first.
“Asmodeus,” Charlotte barked, jolting him out of his intimate moment with his Elizabeth that was more precious than words could explain. How he despised the woman. “Do you remember the last time we spoke?”
“I think about it a lot. Especially at night,” the demon said, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Asmodeus,” Caspian said warningly.
“Disgusting. I hope the witch’s curse takes your manhood next. Swear to me, on your honour, that you will protect that girl.”
Asmodeus’s answering smile was anything but polite.
“Caspian has already sworn an oath to protect her.”
She rolled her eyes, hands on her hips, and tapped her foot. It was clear she wouldn’t let them leave until he swore it.
Caspian glared at him. “Swear if you must, then let us be off.”
“Fine, fine!” Asmodeus formally swore he wouldn’t let anything happen to Elizabeth and would protect her to the best of his abilities.
“Thank you,” mumbled Elizabeth. Charlotte hugged her friend fiercely, then stepped back.
Caspian helped her into the carriage, and it was the first time he had ever seen her look frail or unsure. Her usually proud posture was slouched, her demeanor defeated. The sight caved something in his chest.
At the inn, she stared into space, unreachable. When he set food before her, she managed two bites before pushing the bowl away.
He led her to the rooms he had purchased, waiting for her to say something. In the hallway, he hesitated. He didn’t know if she wanted comfort or solitude—didn’t know if his presence would help or hurt her.
He opened his arms, and for a moment, she stood there. He thought she’d refuse—her body was rigid, jaw clenched as if fighting herself. Then she stepped forward like she was walking to her execution.
She said nothing as she put her head against his shoulder, but he felt the tension in her frame, the way she held herself as if ready to pull away at any second. Her breathing was unsteady, caught between a sob and something that sounded almost angry.
He held her carefully, afraid any movement might send her running. When she slowly extricated herself from his arms, her eyes were glistening but hard—as if she hated she had done this, hated him for providing the comfort she needed.
Moving to the window, she sat in the chair and stared out for a time, not moving a muscle.
He paused at the door. “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
She continued to stare at nothing and made no indication she had heard.
***
Caspian took her to her townhouse in Veridas. She looked as though she hadn’t slept at all.
“This is your door.”
Wordlessly, she fished out a key and made to unlock it.
“Wait.” His hand slammed against the door. “Did you sleep at all?”
She stared at him as if the question required translation. Finally, she shook her head.
“Do you have any food at home?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
He dragged a hand over his face. “Will you be alright?”
“Yes.” The word came out as a croak.
Caspian wedged himself between her and the door. “Right. Over my immortal body am I going to let you starve yourself.”
She furrowed her brows in that irritating way, as if his words could not reach her.
“You’re coming with me,” he ordered, pointing to the carriage.
If her glare could shoot daggers, he’d be blinded. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Just show me that you’re going to be alright, and I’ll go. Okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice sounded hoarse from disuse.
He snorted. “I don’t believe you. Walk back to the carriage right now, or I’m going to drag you there myself.”
She crossed her arms.
“Why do you even care?” She looked so tired, as if she were fraying at the edges.
He took her hand and gently tugged her towards the carriage. She resisted him, feebly, and he gave a sound of exasperation. Ignoring her protests, he hoisted her up over his shoulder and brought her back to the carriage.
She sputtered over his shoulder, “Caspian. This is ridiculous. Leave me be—”
He set her down and opened the carriage door, glaring. “In.”
She turned to look at him, anger making her eyes look sharper than they had in days.
“I care. I don’t know why, but I care, damnit,” he snarled. “Let me take care of you.”
She stood motionless for a moment.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she climbed into the carriage without another word.
When they returned to the castle, he ensured a plate of food was put in front of her, but she ate only the smallest of bites and pushed the rest away.
***
Days passed, and she grew only worse.
“Please, my beauty, you need to eat something,” he said, bringing food to her bed. “You’ve hardly eaten in days.”
Elizabeth stared at the wall, unseeing.
Like a ghost, she wandered the castle—walking the grounds alone, speaking to no one.
He fed elsewhere now, finding some girl in Silas rather than burdening Elizabeth with his needs.
He didn’t want to ask her for either blood or sex and ruin the thin thread that still bound them together.
When he returned, he meticulously cleaned away any trace of blood, but he felt like, somehow, she still knew.
The knowledge sat in her eyes like an accusation—or worse, indifference.
It hurt him more than if she had raged at him.
In the evenings, when he held her brittle form, she felt ready to shatter. Nothing could pull her from the sadness she’d wrapped around herself. She spent her days reading books about love and loss, staring at the wall or out the window for hours.
She was a shadow of her former self, and he had no idea how to possibly make it better. He was a demon—unequipped to heal a broken heart.
But he knew what he could do much more fruitfully.
Revenge.