Page 104 of Elysian

“What is she doing?” an onlooker remarked.

I paid it no mind. Upon touching her skin, I concentrated on thinking of her sleeping. I imagined her falling into unconsciousness. Nothing happened. No swell of sensation, no pressure. I hissed a breath out.

What had I been feeling when it happened?

Egan had been about to crush the lower half of Cassiel’s body. I had been scared and angry. I closed my eyes and imagined myself back then. Egan’s fingers flexing around the effigy and about to push down to shatter Cassiel.

The tension in my stomach eased, and a zap stung my hand. I yanked it back.

Branwen reached and shook Vera’s shoulder, then reached a finger under her nose. “She’s unconscious.”

Archer’s look sharpened on me. “How did you do that?”

“That is a question for later,” Tabby snapped.

I quickly tied a strip of fabric as tightly as I could, high on her leg, to help slow her bleeding. Lucinda stepped around to the other side of the table. She held one end of the saw’s handle. I grabbed the other side. Gritting my teeth, I pulled toward me, then she pulled toward her. Carefully, we sawed to and fro. Sweat beaded on my temples. The first layer of skin was the easiest. Blood welled and spilled from the line of the saw. Branwen ran from the chamber sobbing.

“I need a moment,” Archer garbled, releasing the grip he had on the leg. The sound of retching came from him. Her leg flesh flared outward, displaying the raw pink flesh. Blue blood leaked from her wound.

“We have to finish cutting.” If not, we risked the infection spreading.

I searched for another pair of hands. Cassiel leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

‘Need my help?’

“Yes.” He cocked his head. “Please.”

He pushed off the wall and approached. ‘Just because you asked so . . . prettily.’

If he was attempting to aggravate me, he was succeeding.

Cassiel gripped where Archer had been holding near her foot. Lucinda and I continued sawing.

Then it was the muscle and fat, another easy section. As if sawing into a chicken breast. The hardest part was when we reached the bone. The saw caught, scraping to a standstill.

“I can do that quickly,” Cassiel offered again.

Sawing through the bone was an arduous effort.

“No, we have this,” Lucinda snapped. She was the only one who spoke to Cassiel without either fearing or worshiping him.

It was interesting to see who continued to see him as the King of Sycarious.

Sweat dripped down my back.

‘Stubborn.’

If I could speak in his mind, I would tell him he was worse. But this was not the time. We finally finished. Cassiel pulled the severed limb away, and Tabby pushed the thick cloth against the leaking wound where bone shone.

“We must staunch the wound,” Lucinda announced, placing the saw aside.

“Keep hold of it,” I said to Tabby, pressing against the cloth too. “Archer, are there any fireplaces? We need some sort of brand.”

His mouth remained pale, but he nodded. “I will return.” He took off running.

“There is a hearth in the kitchen,” Tabby explained.

Cassiel was swiping his palms across his shirt, leaving behind streaks of blue.