Page 68 of Elysian

Cassiel guided Abrax to the front, within view of the shut door leading inside.

“Here we are.” He dismounted, pebbles crunching beneath his heel.

Cassiel reached up, hands settling on my waist. I went rigid, but he did not let that stop him from hoisting me from the saddle. As soon as my slippered feet touched the ground, I backed up a few steps, ignoring his frown.

I busied myself with unbinding the satchel from Abrax’s saddle that held the grimoire and effigy. Crushing the straps of the bag, I turned. Cassiel strode across the stone path. I looped the straps over my head, and the book rested as a comforting weight against my hip. As I trudged toward the entrance, my slippers were not helpful in the least. I could feel every bit of stone through the slim fabric of the shoe.

Cassiel held the door open, and I hesitantly entered the foyer. Compared to the Citadel and the House of Lords, this was drastically smaller. Cassiel ducked his head as he entered to avoid the door sill.

A small entry table sat beside the door with a fine layer of dust over it. Faint dawnlight speared through the slim crack caused by the curtains. Sheets covered the furniture in the sitting area to the right of the foyer. Across the settee was a staircase leading to the second level. Above the fireplace was a rusted sword.

“Who does this estate belong to?”

“The current Baron Mortar who is vacationing in his Eastern estate. His father is a councilman you met. He had sat beside Lord Dillon’s wife the eve they beat you.” A cloud passed over his features, but his features sharpened with focus as his gaze returned to me. He spoke of the council member he killed with his chain. I entered the sitting chamber and trailed my fingertips over the cream sheet protecting a rocking chair. “Before that, it belonged to your father, the former Baron.”

He struck me still. I whipped my head up to meet his.

My familial estate . . . I squeezed the sheet and ripped it off the couch, letting it fall to the side. A floral pattern decorated the cushions. I went to the center table, yanked the sheet to drop it atop the other. With every furnishing, I did the same. Until the same floral pattern, a dark mix of rosahs and velvris vines, sat along a black backdrop.

I clawed for any small familiarity, but as much as I stared, nothing roused to life. No memory, no feeling—nothing. I pressed my hand to my pounding chest, searching for any recollection. Nothing came, and it left me feeling empty. The council had not just killed my family. They took the memory of them, leaving me orphaned even from my past.

“Why would you not warn me what this place was?” I rasped. Why would he bring me here?

His eyebrows furrowed, expression morphing into a glare. It was clear how confused my statement made him, no, my reaction. He did not understand my upset. It was clear he never had. And I doubted he ever could.

I thinned my lips, composing myself with a breath before I spoke in anger.

“I will take my leave to rest,” I finally managed. I only managed a turn midway when he gripped my shoulder, forcibly turning me toward him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” I gave a brittle smile, and numbly turned to the stairs. The climb up wasn’t without effort. My hip pinched a bit more than usual at the stretch higher to climb. I reached the landing on the second floor. It spread into a small sitting area to one side and a hall of doors to the other.

‘What has upset⁠—’

“Stop speaking in my mind!” I shouted, drowning out his voice in my head. I whirled to level him with a glare.

“What has angered you so?” His eyebrow rose.

His confusion flared me to a boiling point. I stomped so hard my feet rattled the wooden floor. I wrenched open the first door. All I needed was the sight of the bed.

Whirling, I stopped at the threshold, forcing him to remain out in the hall. He stared down at me still with that utter confusion, but humor had begun to take root.

“This bond—these urges do not compel my judgment, nor my forgiveness.” I lifted my chin.

“This again?” His head canted to the side. “I will live with your distrust. Your youthful emotions are not equipped to navigate harsher truths.”

“You believe because you are centuries older that you have a better understanding of feelings?”

“Trivial aspects⁠—”

“Now my emotions are trivial.”

Cassiel drew straighter, his expression twisting more into bewilderment. “I will draw you a ba⁠—”

I slammed the door in his face. I kept hold of the door handle and was able to feel as it was wiggled. “For Saints’ sake, leave me be.”

After a beat, steps retreated.