Page 85 of Elysian

Cassiel reached for the dull sword hanging over the mantle of the fireplace. The blade slid across the brick. Dust flaked off the wall as he removed the weapon.

“Amara!”

That was not Cassiel’s voice. I lunged past the final step, hurtling into the hall leading to the parlor. Cassiel swung his dull blade, and a loud clang echoed from their swords meeting. I followed the path to the man holding the blade. A rugged, familiar face, broad shoulders, and a tapered waist. Archer swiped his blade up in a parry.

Sweat glistened on Cassiel’s forehead. Moonlight beamed through the iron-framed windows. His arm trembled the slightest bit. The curled lip and the strength he feigned could not mask the weakness dragging him.

Me.

He was still weakened by me and how he was keeping me alive. For all the strength he had regained, I remained his burden. Cassiel pulled his sword back, causing Archer’s blade to slam into the floor. As Cassiel was about to drive the blade through Archer’s stomach, I screamed, “Stop!”

Cassiel continued the drive of the sword in a downward arc. Archer’s arms trembled. I threw myself to Cassiel’s side, grabbing his arm. The movement forced them both to look at me, but Cassiel’s skill and strength allowed him to drive the blade out of Archer’s hand.

“Amara,” Liadan breathed, coming out from the shadowed corner. He had a bow and arrow that were no longer notched. “Thank Saints, I thought we were done for.”

Cassiel snarled and stepped forward. I pressed a palm against his stomach.

“This is Liadan.” I pushed in front of Cassiel. “A friend,” I insisted. Then turned back to the slim man I had met at the brothel. “I did not think I would see you again.”

“Nor I. After you disappeared, I was left scrambling. I would have discovered your absence sooner if I had not been hiding from the Guard.” Liadan kept peering at Cassiel.

I swung to look at Archer. “Where is Tabby?”

A man stepped out of the shadows, distracting me from my question.

“Amara, this is Morak. He leads the Resistance,” Liadan explained.

“May I speak to you, Liadan?” the man he introduced said. His swarthy complexion and the lines at his eyes placed him near forty annums.

Liadan inclined his head and retreated. Morak watched Cassiel with obvious distrust. They backed away, stepping outside.

“Tabby is safely tucked away,” Archer rumbled in his deep voice, bringing my attention over to him.

“I thought you said you were not involved with the Resistance.”

“I was not,” Archer admitted. “But after His Highness,” Archer gave Cassiel another sneer, “discovered us, I could not count on my gift to keep my people hidden.”

Cassiel was much too quiet. I noted the angle of his head and his focused glare toward where the other two men exited.

“What are they saying?” I whispered.

Cassiel pressed his finger to my lips. I didn’t miss how Archer put his hand on the grip hanging from his waist as if preparing to fight. I slightly shook my head at Archer. His mouth flattened, and he turned his back to us.

“You are being oafish,” I reproached.

Cassiel’s lips twitched.

“The Resistance leader does not want to bring me.” He chuckled. “Saints help him if he attempts to take you from me.” His smile was too vicious. As if he wanted the man to try. The warning was as much for him as it was for me.

“Will you behave?” I began and lowered my voice. “This is the Resistance. We will need their help to get into the House of Lords again.”

Cassiel drew straighter, a smirk crossing his lips. I hated when he became this arrogant beast. One that saw no reason.

Footsteps cut me off as Morak and Liadan entered. Both looked irate.

I did not miss how Liadan, Archer, and Morak continued to eye Cassiel. Though Cassiel was not doing himself any favors.

“Come with me,” I muttered and tugged Cassiel’s sleeve. He followed my bidding, but continued to palm the hilt. The ease with which he swung it was an obvious threat.