Page 5 of Elysian

His features softened, and his thumb curled up to rub against the bottom of my chin. “I would never harm you.”

It took me a moment to grasp his phrase, then I laughed.

“By Saints, I wonder what ‘harm’ means to you if what you have done so far does not qualify it.” Another chuckle escaped. “Cassiel. I have faced many injustices. I have faced hatred simply for what I am. Simply for the blood running through my veins. Simply for a small creature born alongside me. All because of what?” Nothing but lies and fear the council spewed. And Cassiel had not believed in me.

Nothing made sense anymore. Why was I here—alive? I squeezed my hands into fists until my knuckles popped.

“Why am I not dead?” Cassiel did not speak, did not react. He offered me nothing. “A redblood cannot survive without their wraithling,” I choked out, rubbing my breastbone. I could not bring myself to look at the animal huddled away that did not behave like Piper. If she was gone . . . and I was here. “You have the necromancy gift.” I could barely get the words out.

He gripped the bars between us, allowing me to see his knuckles flexing.

I lunged to grab the front of his tunic. “You are why I still live.” He must have used his gift to bring me back to life.

His harsh glower softened into something akin to pity.

“Please, Cassiel.” I yanked his palm against my neck. “Just end it.”

Let me join Piper.

His fingertips pinched my skin. He studied me, so still, so painfully still.

“No.”

With that simple response, he decided my life, just as every facet had always been decided for me.

Grief threatened to consume me whole.

A muscle in the side of his cheek jumped. His hard grip softened, and the pad of his thumb softly rubbed against my lips.

Redbloods never lived long. It was rare when we reached a fortieth annum, but he so easily brushed me off. As he always did. He did not see me as anything more than my designation.

“I hope you die.”

Cassiel recoiled, grip going limp, and I easily slid free, giving him my back.

Only a few dawnlight rotations ago, I had been in a gilded cage. Now it had become a literal one. My fickle urges wanted to touch the harsh edges of his face.

I slid my hands through my hair and gripped fistfuls until my scalp pinched.

CHAPTER THREE

Injection

Ihad been still for so long it was a wonder my skin had not begun to mold to the bricks. I wished for it to devour me. It was the perfect corner to die in. From here, I had a clear vantage of both cells and the small cage against the wall opposite to me.

I watched her every twitch, every burrow into the sawdust, noting the differences in her behavior. Piper, no, she, had behaviors Piper had never had.

“She has been catatonic for close to a sennight, son,” Drusilla’s voice cajoled. I rolled my head where I braced it against the brick wall, the textured edges digging into my skull. It was the only time I could feel my otherwise numb body.

Drusilla paced a healthy distance from the bars holding Cassiel captive. She’d come many times to speak at Cassiel. First asking him why he was being difficult, then shifting into anger.

“You would be doing her a favor. This is against the natural order. No redblood has ever survived the severance of their wraithling bond. She will waste away, and that will hurt more. Let her go.”

If I had the capacity to laugh, I would. How unbelievably ridiculous. Not what she was saying, because that was very obvious. My body had begun to shut down, and I had not peed in that wretched bucket set in the corner of the cell for far too long. It was her tone, so loving and soft. The woman did not understand a single thing about love.

Cassiel opened his eyes. Drusilla inhaled hard. This was the first reaction he had given during her countless visits. She stumbled forward, her black gown rustling around her legs.

“Son,” she whispered.