Page 120 of Nocturn

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.