Page 8 of Elysian

I watched them, keeping my features stiff and confused.

“You are mistaken.” Egan lied so easily.

“She is gone?” Vera whispered. An uncomfortable, heavy beat of silence followed. She cleared her throat. “We have not been allowed out. May we speak to the council about this?”

Branwen tugged at Vera.

“I will bring your request to Lord Vaner,” Egan said, not elaborating. He looked at the officer, standing with his arms flat against his sides. “Escort them back to their parlor.” He looked at them. “No more leaving.”

“Yes, sir,” the officer said.

Branwen and Vera continued to eye me, but I did not let my mask slip. I could see when they believed it was no longer me. Their shoulders dropped, and they turned to follow the officer back to the feeder hall.

“They have been inquiring about your whereabouts and whether the transfer of His Highness’s bondmate was successful.”

“Put me down.” He didn’t twitch. “Please, Cassiel,” I gasped and stilled. “I-I meant⁠—”

“I know what you meant.” Egan’s lips twisted wearily. “Do not try anything.”

“Considering my permanently damaged leg, how exactly do you expect me to get away?” I groused.

He snorted and lowered my feet to the ground. The cold from the polished floors seeped through my slippers.

I limped over to the pane looking out into the courtyard. Sunlight had already faded, giving way to dusklight. The orange and red hues of the sky fell across the garden.

Or what was left of it.

I pressed both palms onto the icy surface.

Below, where the garden’s intricate maze had once stood, there was nothing. In its place was a seared landscape as if Hollows had wrought chaos. Charred remains of what used to be flowers sprawled through the expanse. I tracked a trail from the entrance all the way to the middle section of the garden where I would sit. In the very place was a server in the basic redblood servant frock, scrubbing a section of a wide charred spot.

“The prophet.”

Lucinda had mentioned her mother set herself ablaze to help us escape. This was the outcome.

I let out a shaky breath, recalling the faint screams from when we crossed through that tunnel with Damien. I made myself turn toward the stacks of fresh blossoms, attempting to collect myself.

“Did Vaner poison Cassiel?”

His expression twisted with disgust. “I do not know how you can refer to that monster so casually.”

I shoved down my defensive urges. “Answer the question.”

He sighed. “You already knew they poisoned him with the feeders.” I did, but I also wanted to see how he behaved when I knew he was telling the truth.

“What’s that thing Al has that breaks his bones?” That was my true question. That thing that had so easily brought Cassiel down.

“An effigy. It took Al decades to master its use.” His mouth twitched down at the corners. “Many people died.” It wasn’t a direct poison. “They were injecting feeders with an alchemical binding.”

“Binding?” I narrowed my eyes. “That inky substance they injected me with?”

“He calls it Elixir, but from my understanding, he adds another component. Something about the most poisonous flower to exist⁠—”

“A fleurlet,” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Cassiel saw me receive that injection. What was he told it was?” I asked sharply.