Page 50 of Elysian

I almost knocked my elbow into Officer Brandt, who stood much too close.

His inhale was audible. I stepped inside the gas lamp lit chamber. The officer still felt closer than usual, but he had been relatively pleasant and I did not want to anger him by asking him to offer me space.

“Do not sniff at her,” Cassiel drawled. He rolled his head to the side to pierce Officer Brandt with his eerie gaze.

So he had been doing as I suspected.

Officer Brandt did not address Cassiel, but he distanced himself and approached the winding mechanism to open the first slat of the glass pane.

“Enter,” he ordered gruffly, rigid as he eyed Cassiel still sprawled on the cot.

I stepped through, then waited as the pane closed behind me and the second slat opened to the cell.

Once the entrance was sealed by both panes, he left and shut the bookshelf. Cassiel rolled off the single cot in the cell in a smooth motion.

‘Come rest.’ Without another word, he sat against the stone wall beside the cot.

I hesitantly approached and sat. Cassiel seemed to still be inside his thoughts. He was not alone. I sighed and closed my eyes to mask the tears sheening over them.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Interlude

Ihissed a breath out in pain, pulling at the arm Hester gripped. She had rubbed across the needle site where Al had taken blood from me after he removed me from the glass enclosure.

“We were told to ensure you are scrubbed well. Every inch of you clean,” Vera said, wincing as she also rubbed the soap-riddled cloth across my skin. “Hester, you were not lying. She smells delightful.”

I peeked over at Officer Brandt. He had his back to us, offering me privacy. It was more than any other officer would have offered me, so I took comfort that only Hester and Vera could see me.

Two women who had been Cassiel’s feeders.

Two women he had lain with.

It was a truth hovering in the back of my mind, not of jealousy or ill will toward them. All my emotions about it were firmly leveled at Cassiel.

The . . . beastly oaf was the one who chose it. Unlike women who were forced into these injustices out of pure survival. Like the feeders. Although they had all known what entering the Trials would mean.

I studied Hester’s concentrated features. I had never followed the feeder selection in the papers, but Miriam had droned on about it enough for me to know the basics. Vera, Branwen, and Hester were the original feeders who entered the Trials. Out of many, many women, they had pleased His Highness the best.

A swell of emotion rose in my breastbone. It spiked outward toward my hands. Hester gasped in pain, her features scrunching in on themselves as she stumbled back and fell on her bottom.

“Hester!” Vera and I cried. I crossed my arms across my chest as I stood in the tub. Hester held her arm up, rubbing it with her palm. Her shoulders jerked up and down in harsh pants.

“I feel sick,” she wheezed.

“Help her to the toilet area,” I told Vera. “I will finish bathing myself.”

She nodded hard and ran to Hester’s side. Vera pulled her to her feet, and she leaned against her.

“I am going to vomit,” she mumbled, and they ran faster toward the toilet area.

I sank back into the bath, drew my arms under, and squeezed my hands together. My mind had been overtaken by emotion, and not even a full breath later, my palm stung. That was when Hester cried out.

At that moment, I had been touching her right above her wrist.

It could not have been me that caused that reaction, but . . . I shook my head. That was incredibly silly. I grabbed the soap and finished rubbing it across my smooth skin thanks to the salve that I had reapplied across my legs, underarms, and my sex.

Faint sounds of someone retching the contents of their stomach reached me. I finished my bath and stood to get out of the tub. Each movement caused soreness to run rampant. My arms, legs, and even my toes hurt.