Page 61 of Elysian

Ida and Egan kept swirling in my thoughts along with whether Branwen and Vera had survived.

So many feelings battled inside me.

I had killed someone. Murdered them with a blade. It had not come easily to me. I closed my eyes and Hester’s lifeless gaze filled my thoughts. I didn’t regret it, but I would not be able to bring myself to do it again. The snag of bone against blade . . . I could still feel the resistance from the bone.

I wish I were as shocked about killing a woman as I was about what I did to Egan. I rendered him unconscious, just as Hester could. While we had been in the bathing chamber, Hester had flinched away from me and a bruise had shown up. I had not touched her with any sort of force to cause that.

The consequence of having Awakened. In some form, that was the reason, but I wanted official confirmation from the Lore of Old.

Abrax slowed so abruptly that we jolted forward. Cassiel’s weight fell forward on me. I gasped, struggling to catch my balance, but his weight kept increasing against me.

“Cassiel?” I shouted, grabbing hold of his limp arm. He did not respond, and we began to tilt forward. Saints, he would take us both down.

I snatched the reins that slipped out of his hands and clicked my tongue, nudging Abrax’s side. He sprang forward, and with my grip on Cassiel, it distributed his weight.

I let out a shaky breath. I could not hold this position long.

Everything around us looked the same. Trees and more trees, but staying out of sight of any passerby was what mattered. I pulled the reins to guide Abrax deeper into the more compact forest, settling into a steady trot. Cassiel jostled, weight listing to one side. I squeezed the reins and hugged his arm harder. Abrax broke through the foliage of the forest. Ancient sequoia trees wider than three men standing abreast marked the transition into Western Sycarious. I continued pressing Abrax forward until we came across a small clearing. My arms strained with how much strength I used to keep us balanced.

I struggled to catch my breath. My belly would end up as carved as Cassiel’s if I would have been able to continue straining this way.

“Cassiel?”

No reaction. Saints, how much longer could I persist?

The orange sky bled into purple.

I searched the surroundings. The foliage was becoming denser. Hopefully we were far enough from the main road. Pulling on the reins forced Abrax to a stop. Cassiel jolted forward, sliding against me, chin landing on my shoulder. I flinched and it caused him to slide even more. I scrabbled to grab his arm. It was no use; he continued slipping. I let his arm go before he dragged me to the ground on top of him. I would have ended up hurting him more.

He landed on the ground, crunching leaves and foliage under his weight. Tossing my leg over, I dismounted. I could set us up beside the large tree . . . if I could drag Cassiel. He lay on his front, cheek smashed against the ground. I wouldn’t fool myself. There was no possibility I would be able to drag him near the tree. Nor would I be able to create a fire at this time of night. It would call attention I would not be able to protect us from.

I pushed onto my toes to reach the leather belt tying the rolled blanket near Abrax’s hind leg. I pulled the strap, moving the pommel of Cassiel’s sword to the side. With the blanket in hand, I returned to Cassiel and knelt beside him. I reached for his arm and leg, then I pulled with all my might until he was on his back. It took everything in me to roll him onto his back. Breaths huffed out from my lips. I reached and brushed the leaves clinging to Cassiel’s cheek. Arranging the blanket over his torso only went so far given how much of him there was to cover. I gave up and sat down.

I couldn’t help the sympathy growing for him. He did not deserve it, not after he had turned his back on me. He was the product of his circumstances, but he had hurt me so severely. Physically and emotionally—yet, he’d offered me the heart of his mother.

She’d painted a picture of an abandoned little one, waiting for his mother. After she had not arrived, he must have felt so lonely. When he finally fell into the council’s hands, he had everything he could have ever wanted handed to him. Security, a place to set his head, power. It had been ingrained in him to cling to that safety.

Anything that threatened it would have garnered the same reaction I had.

I exhaled slowly. He had taken blows for me, bargained for me, and had tried to exchange himself for me, but was all of that enough to erase the harm he caused?

No, it was not.

But I could also not deny how those actions had softened me as well.

A crunch from paces away had me perking up. I eyed the dense forest. The trees were so close together that not much moonlight entered. Abrax snorted, lifting his hooves and putting them down. I squinted, rolling to my knees while I kept alert.

A horrifying clicking stole my breath.

I knew the sound like I knew my hands. Hollows were near. Dread flooded me, and I looked down at an unconscious Cassiel. I shook his arm. Harder and harder, but there was no reaction. My heart pounded to the point of drowning out my ability to hear. I forced myself to take a breath. Cassiel would not wake.

I pushed onto my feet and crept to Cassiel’s sword attached to Abrax, the satchel with the effigy and grimoire heavy against my hip. My breathing became shaky.

Wet, snapping rattles came from ahead of me. Inside the dark forest. Foliage rustled from something moving.

My hands trembled, and I stumbled back, scanning for the sword. I took hold of it, then slid it out. As soon as it was free, the tip of the blade thudded on the dirt. I tried to lift it and my shoulders screamed. I could only lift it halfway up before it became too much.

Saints.