Page 22 of Elysian

“In all my centuries on this realm, I did not think we would ever allow another redblood to fully Awaken.” Another man sitting on the other side of the woman beside Lord Dillon added, his skin a deep brown shade. A shade often seen in Southern Sycarious, where I hailed.

“Enough about the Elysian Pair. We are here to celebrate Lord Cedric’s marriage. It is the first step in his ascension,” Drusilla added. “Since Lord Tagon is choosing not to join us for another cycle.”

A bald man clapped Lord Cedric on the shoulder.

“My son will be much more suited to take my spot on the council,” he said in a low, gruff voice.

‘Take his spot being a cunt.’

Cassiel’s silky voice filled my head. I staggered, and a small bit of wine dripped onto my fingertips. In my whirl to look at Cassiel, I collided with a familiar pair of blue eyes. Miriam sat beside Lord Cedric dressed in an ivory gown with jewels spanning the bodice. The dress was different from the one I watched her be fitted in for her wedding to Viscount Lancet. I ripped my head forward as the swell of grief ravaged my insides.

I collected myself and continued my uneven stride to stand beside Branwen where she held the other pitcher.

My arm brushed against hers, and she leaned closer to me.

I could tell questions bubbled behind her eyes, but she exhaled slowly and returned her focus forward. Customarily, this positioning at an event was purely for redbloods. I was used to serving and remaining as close to the wall as I possibly could, but Branwen was an Elite.

“More for Lord Cedric,” Drusilla snapped her fingers at Branwen, and she scurried forward to pour wine into the glass he held up.

“Lord Cedric will be the next to join the council. His wedding is the first step in receiving his host,” Vaner added, holding up a wineglass.

Whatever Vera had slipped into my shoe seemed to shout at me. Drusilla’s hair was coiffed into an updo, leaving her neck bare. The image of her snapping Piper’s neck burned behind my eyelids every time I blinked.

She had murdered so easily. Now she sat beside Cassiel, rubbing the top of his hand and smiling.

I squeezed the pitcher tighter. If I slammed it upon the ground, it could provide a shard large enough for me to slice it across her throat. Pressure swelled in my throat. Murder was something so foreign to me before I was brought to the Kingdom of Sycarious, and now I mused over it.

But she was at fault for ripping me asunder. The ‘Amara’ before me was fragmented, and I was left over.

‘Amara.’ Cassiel’s voice pulled me from my violent musings.

Vaner had leaned forward and looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. I approached, forcing my stride to remain slow.

“Is she touched?” Lord Dillon asked, genuine concern in his tone. I would have believed it if he had not had the look of a man who found himself humorous.

“Perhaps she’s been broken enough by the Warlord,” Lord Cedric interjected. He scooted his seat back and patted his thigh. Ida slipped onto his lap. “There has to be some damage to her head. I heard about His Highness fucking her until he broke her.” Admiration filled his tone.

He continued going on about how impressed he was, fully groping Ida as she fawned all over him. I tilted the pitcher to pour wine into Vaner’s empty glass, feeling the weight of his stare.

“She has simply learned her lesson,” Drusilla interjected.

“That she has,” Vaner said. “Stay.”

I stopped retreating, glaring at the woman who took Piper from me.

“Oh-ho! Look at the rage in her eyes.” Lord Dillon chortled.

“I do believe she wants to kill you, Drusilla,” Vaner added.

I did. Desperately.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Beating

The festivities continued, and the men only became louder, obnoxiously so. Those near the end of the table bantered and cackled among themselves, as did the other clusters gathered around.

‘You know, I have never been inside someone’s mind like this.’