Page 123 of Elysian

So much emotion pulled me in different directions.

Piper and her loss . . . My chest ached at my heart, not my breastbone because she was no longer there. Even so, she lived within me and always would.

I reached the path leading to my chamber. Pressure swirled in my throat, an intensity that mounted with each step. Cassiel and I had much to speak about. What happened in the fog took the primary spot.

His claim about not knowing how to express his emotions and thoughts became more apparent. I had believed it was pure arrogance that kept him harsh and silent.

But perhaps he just . . . did not know how to express himself.

It did not mean that excused him. All it did was help me understand him a bit more.

We had many times where we began an argument and he ended it with a harsh claim. He always walked away, or he used his body to stop the argument.

I stood before the wooden door and opened it with a heavy breath.

The candle on the nightstand burned halfway down, wax dripping onto the copper plate. No one lay on the bed. I found him in the tub, head tilted, arms stretched outward.

It was time we faced it full on.

I took my time approaching him. He did not turn.

“Cassiel,” I began, clearing my throat. He did not move. “What happened in The Barren? Is that truly how you feel?”

Still silence, not even a twitch. I reached for his arm. As soon as my fingertips touched his skin, it slid off the lip of the tub and sank into the water. That started him slipping lower and lower.

“Cassiel?!” I grabbed his shoulder, and the nudge pushed him to tilt to the side, head angling limply. “Cassiel!” I shouted, grasping his arm. His weight was too heavy, so it sent me slamming against the edge of the tub.

I clasped his face, forcing it toward me. He wasn’t conscious. I reached inside and pulled his arm out of the water. Inky lines caught my attention.

What is on his chest?

Black plumed from thin lines, staining the water. I dropped his arm carefully along the lip of the tub and released. He did not slip deeper. Then I hurried to the candle and lifted the copper plate it was adhered to. The flame flickered from my quick stride back to him. I brought it over the clear water and went cold.

Thin lines spread over Cassiel’s chest, beginning near his breastbone. The lines stretched down to his sides. Some crawled down his hip. Then there were the ones slightly thicker, running down his abdomen. They wept his black blood into the water, turning the front of it foggy.

Something was terribly wrong. I had a feeling he was not being entirely truthful when I asked him about the bleeding nose the first time. So casually he had brushed me off and named it a cost of necromancy. At the second bloody nose, where true suspicion roused, he had lashed out at me.

I should have pushed him to tell me.

“Cassiel?” I grasped his shoulder, and he did not react. Panic caused my throat to tighten. “Cassiel!”

He gasped, shooting upright, then groaned and favored his side. His glassy eyes blinked, taking in the water and me. Confusion flickered, but he gripped the edge of the tub and pulled himself up with effort. He stepped out, water dripping off and puddling on the stone ground.

“What is wrong?” I whispered, the candle shaking in my hand.

So many thin lines veined out from his breastbone as if his veins had been turned inside out. A black droplet beaded along the thick one traveling down his abdomen.

“I am fine,” he slurred. He took a step and stumbled, falling onto the floor.

My scream caught, and I fell to my knees, setting the candle beside him. I grasped his shoulders and pushed him onto his back.

“Cassiel,” I choked out.

Something was wrong. My hands refused to stop trembling. I shot to my feet, running out of the chamber, then almost collided with one of the elders, Waylan.

He caught my arm, helping me gather myself. “What has you in a rush?”

My plea caught in my throat. The lines bracketing his mouth deepened.