Page 58 of Elysian

A broken bone bulged on his arm, but that was not the most concerning injury. His ankle had completely bent to a sickening angle until bone pierced through his flesh. It seemed to be hanging on by ligaments.

My stomach lurched—not from the gruesome sight, but from the pain he must be feeling. The grimoire and effigy lay a few paces away from each other. I quickly collected both under one arm.

“Get up,” I ordered, tugging at the sleeve of his robe as I took in our surroundings. We had landed in the bushes lining the outside of the garden.

He groaned and moved his arm across his side. There was a rib sticking out through his skin.

“Get away from here,” he grunted.

“You are wasting your breath,” I chastised.

He bared his teeth, but despite the disapproval and shaking of his head, I quickly pushed against his free side, curling one arm around his waist. He did not press his weight into me. Lurching a few steps forward was all he managed. I pushed myself against his side where there were no ribs poking out from his skin and pulled his arm over my shoulder until he had no choice but to lean against me. It almost tipped me over, but I locked my knees. The only reason I was able to keep us upright was because my stronger leg was on the outside.

“There is a way out that way.” Cassiel jerked his chin deeper into the garden.

Fresh blossoms had replaced the destroyed flower beds, but the mylk flowers were gone. We passed the inactive fountain. Cassiel’s breathing grew sharper, but we did not stop. I gritted my teeth, attempting to grip onto the numbness that helped me move forward. An alcove opened near the back into another bland hall. Another servants’ entrance. The path stretched and stretched, seemingly forever. We reached a circular section that opened in four different directions.

Cassiel coughed and spat blood to the side.

‘I am going to listen, be as quiet as possible.’

I did as he said, waiting. He closed his eyes.

He popped his head up and jerked his chin toward the second entrance. We shuffled on. Doors stretched here and there, but he did not stop until we had almost walked an obscene distance.

“There are servants’ quarters that way.” His foot began dragging a bit, and his movements became sluggish.

“Cassiel, we have to leave this place,” I whispered, squeezing the arm I held.

He hissed a breath out between his teeth and shook his head. A fresh wave of resolve came over his features as we finally reached the door. I opened it to an empty servants’ kitchen. ‘We are in the kitchens that serve the council wing.’ We crossed two wooden slats that led outside. They swung shut behind us. It took a beat for me to orient my location. Across the pebbled entrance was a stretch of woods. We broke through the treeline. I gritted my teeth, fighting exhaustion.

With uneven, pained staggering, we managed to reach the iron gate surrounding the House of Lords and leading deeper into the forest. Cassiel let my arm go and, still favoring one side, caught two of the iron bars to pry them apart.

His breathing stayed ragged, but he did not stop until the bars gave way, leaving a gaping hole. His hand on my back shuffled me through, and the bottom of my robe snagged on the jagged edge, tearing through it. It took Cassiel more maneuvering to get through with his size, but finally we were past and the woodlands sprawled before us.

Cassiel took my hand, lacing his long fingers through mine. “We must reach the river.”

“There is a river nearby?”

“It is quite a distance, but if we reach it, we should manage to avoid detection from the hounds.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Mother

“We cannot stop. They will scour every single inch of the kingdom.”

“But Cassiel, we have been walking since nightfall. Surely we are close to dawnlight and most concerningly, your ankle bone is poking through your flesh,” I exclaimed, squeezing my fingers into his side. “It will only worsen if you keep walking.”

“I will not have you die,” he snarled. His stride slowed and he turned to me. Cassiel’s immortal face seemed sharper in the moonlight. The hollows of his jaw jumped at his cheeks.

“Fine. Then allow me to bind it,” I spat at him.

I forcefully yanked myself free of his grip, grabbed the hem of my robe, and strained to rip it. After the second attempt, Cassiel’s grip fell over mine and he wrenched it apart along the bottom, cutting a bit off until my shins were fully on display. I took the strip and crouched. Mud and debris covered his foot and the wound. A shard of bone protruded from the flesh. My stomach rebelled, but I breathed shallowly and wound the strip from behind his leg to the front.

“Brace yourself,” I offered, then pulled the two sides together as tight as possible.

Cassiel swayed.