Page 52 of Elysian

I had yet to relax since a group of more than twenty officers entered the chamber Cassiel was being kept in. Egan had led them in, and they had come out with a massive form in a tarp being held by seven men on each side. They had practically jogged through Al’s work chamber. Egan must have snapped his neck again.

The iciness in my chest retreated with the distance. It was similar to the wraithling bond stretching.

It felt just as it had when there was distance between me and my wraithling. She had been such a large part of my existence that the absence of the warmth caused a bone-deep ache. Piper had been warmth and sunshine. Cassiel was cold and nightfall.

They had taken him close to half a dawnlight rotation ago. Meanwhile, I sat here being poked and prodded.

I kept pressure on the spot Al had left on the inner side of my elbow with a napkin. Steps came down the stairs. The loud thrum of boots hitting wood. First to emerge from the entrance was Hester. She was dressed in a frock—a redblood frock. She tugged at the collar of the rough fabric. Behind her entered three officers. All ones I did not recognize.

“My lord, I was sent to retrieve Her Highness.” Hester curtsied, keeping her head down.

“Not to worry, I finished what I must.” Al waved her off, still sitting behind his desk and not looking up. “Ah, and Officer.” Al snapped his fingers at one of the broad, dark men. He reached behind his desk and pulled out a case.

“Here, take this to Lord Vaner,” Al ordered.

The officer came forward and took the offered box. I stood to join Hester, then we were escorted by the Guard to the top of the staircase. The officer guided us toward the council wing.

I kept my gaze averted and busied myself with tightening the sashes at my waist. Silk hugged my bare skin. I could not imagine it being a good thing that I wore nothing underneath.

Suddenly, the two officers bracing me grabbed my arms until my feet dragged between them.

I scrutinized their stiff faces. Something was terribly wrong.

The other two took hold of Hester too. “What are you—unhand me!”

They continued forcing us down the hall.

“There is no need for such force,” I said, icily leveling a look at the man beside me. His jaw twitched, but he did not speak.

I met Hester’s eyes and shook my head. Shouting or crying would do nothing to free us. They obviously had orders, and that meant they would see them through. I did not know the specific training officers underwent, but men always returned different from the training. Harder and harsher. They dragged us deeper through the council wing. Past the section where the archive entrance led up. Through another alcove, toward the same hall as before. The doors had been propped wide. On both sides were triple the amount of officers as last time.

My stomach dipped. I searched faces, but none were familiar. We entered, and the layout was entirely different. No longer was there a table set up lengthwise. Now it was pushed in the other direction so the long table ran along the length of the wall.

Upon entering, my attention narrowed on Cassiel near the corner from the entrance. He stood chained to a metal pole driven and bolted into the ground. The cuffs around his ankles and wrists were attached to the pole. A deep blue silk robe draped over his shoulders, loosely tied at the front.

He had no expression, but upon seeing me, his lips thinned.

I sought Vera and Branwen. They stood on the opposite side from Cassiel, hands folded in front of them.

“And here is the main event.” Vaner stood, the chair scraping loudly. The long ivory cloak hugging his shoulders dragged behind him.

A faint smell of food remained in the air, but the table had been cleared of everything except half-full wineglasses. If the meal had passed and the drinks served, had Vera and Branwen succeeded in spiking the pitchers?

The sense of dread worsened. The officers released my arms. A quick scan told me only the lords were present. Hester was released and shoved toward the other two girls. They caught her arms, and the three huddled together.

Vaner stepped before me. I followed his attention to my nipples pressing against the thin fabric. I stiffened my spine and tried to remain rigid. Metal clanged together. Vaner took more joy from Cassiel’s reaction than anything else. He paced around me and stopped behind me, so close that warmth radiated against my back.

“I have a gift for you. A few of them, in fact,” he breathed, and his sour smell stung my eyes. His hand dropped onto my waist, and he squeezed. “Bring it.”

Sounds of shuffling came on the heels of loud steps.

The officer was familiar. A thrill of hope stifled the dread compounding. Damien Rinx was here. The very man who had come to my aid, and the Resistance spy. I averted my gaze back to Vaner who held a wooden box.

He opened the basic, unadorned container to expose a skull. “This is for you.”

He pushed it at me, a wide, awful smile on his face. My hands shook as I extended them to take it. The lid of the box trembled under my touch.

“It is your father. I kept it as a reminder of traitors, and what I would do to those that disrupt order.” He coughed. “Saints, it is quite humorous that you survived those Hollows. Imagine my surprise when you were brought to the Citadel.”