Page 42

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

“ R onin agreed to the plan,” Mireille said as she sank into the warm, bubbling water.

Cassandra, who’d already been up here in the bathhouse for thirty minutes after her punishing session with Silas, could tell there was more to the story. “Did he?”

She and Silas had spent hours in the training room, long after Ronin and Mireille had left. Cassandra had spent most of it frustrated. It was hard work, unlearning her bad habits.

She felt almost too aware of her wings. Silas had told her not to beat herself up about it. Said he couldn’t even imagine how she felt. As if she’d grown a third pair of limbs overnight. Limbs with a mind of their own.

He’d shown her a few moves—how to use them as a counterbalance during kicks, how to harness their momentum to power her punches, how to flatten them against her back so they wouldn’t interfere with evasive maneuvers.

He’d told her she’d made progress today. Much more than he’d expected. But she could hear the subtext.

She still had a long, long way to go.

She tried to ignore that depressing thought as steam sighed over her face and droplets peppered her chest and shoulders.

A long shallow pool filled with cooler water ran down the center of the main room. Lining either side were a series of semi-circular alcoves hidden behind privacy curtains, containing large, heated tubs. Within the alcoves, an array of oils perched on shelves carved into the black tiled walls. Today, Cassandra had scented the water with bergamot and mint.

Mireille seemed to appreciate it, releasing an audible groan as the water climbed to the base of her neck. She leaned her head back against the edge of the tub.

Cassandra sunk down deeper as well, keeping her wings angled up and out of the water. She’d made that mistake before, submerging her wings along with the rest of her body. While it had felt divine at the time, dragging water-logged feathers the whole way home had been a royal pain in the ass. She’d almost asked Mireille to shift into her wolf and give her a ride.

She chuckled at the memory, then probed again when it was clear Mireille was playing coy. “How did you get him to change his mind?”

Mireille cracked an eye open. “I used a bit of feminine persuasion.”

Cassandra drew her knees up and rested her chin atop them. “Do tell.”

Mireille sat upright, sending a wave cascading across Cassandra. “It’s not important. What is important is that he agreed. We’ll pick a night to do it and I’ll get the promoter at World’s End to spread the word about my performance.”

“Good,” Cassandra said, though she couldn’t help being a bit disappointed in Mireille’s answer. Not the part about Ronin agreeing—that was great news, obviously. But the first part. That Mireille didn’t want to open up to her.

Cassandra thought back to the many baths she’d taken with Xenia at the Temple. Long hours surrounded by wobbly candlelight and relaxing scents, chatting about their days, scheming Cass’s robberies, gossiping over the dramas in their supplicants’ memories.

Cassandra’s life had been so, so different back then. Not only had it been hundreds of years shorter—Creator willing—but it had been contained. She’d resigned herself to a quiet existence with her Sisters, pulling memories and helping families, with no aspirations grander than surviving to see the next day. Sitting here now, months later, with a very different female by her side and the fate of an entire city on her shoulders, she ached for a little bit of that normalcy. That connection.

She wouldn’t go so far as to call Mireille her friend. Not yet. She didn’t even know if Mireille wanted that from her. Sure, they were distantly related and sure, Mireille had some kind of cosmic mandate to help Cassandra. But Mireille didn’t seem to want to share personal details.

And maybe it was Cassandra’s desperation for any type of friend, since she’d lost so many of her own, that had her whispering, “You can talk to me about it, you know.”

Mireille ran her fingers through the bubbles. “Talk to you about what?”

“About whatever is going on between you and Ronin.”

Mireille’s silver eyes shot to Cassandra’s, then narrowed. “There’s nothing going on between us.”

Cassandra leaned back against the stone tub, the downy feathers at her shoulder blades wet and warm against her back. “It helps, you know. To have someone you can unburden yourself with. That’s what my—” her voice cracked “—my best friend Xenia and I used to do for each other. In fact, we used to do this .” She gestured around the alcove. “We’d spend hours together in our bath at the Temple, letting our fingers wrinkle and our worries fade.”

“Is she still there? At the Temple?”

“I think so.” At least, Cassandra hoped she was. She hadn’t been able to confirm it. Had been arrested by Eamon two days before Xenia was scheduled to return to the colonies. If Xenia had indeed returned to the Temple, then Borea would have told her what happened. Zee was probably sick with worry. The thought only strengthened Cassandra’s resolve to get the fuck out of here and reunite with her friend.

High Gods, what would Xenia say when she saw what Cassandra had become?

If Cassandra knew her friend at all, she knew that it wouldn’t matter. That their bond would remain, even across species. And she would do everything in her power to keep Xenia out of whatever mess waited outside these wards.

“I’ve never… I don’t really have any friends,” Mireille said. “Didn’t have many before I was locked up either.”

“Why not?”

Mireille shrugged. “Because I…” Her features hardened. “Because I can handle my shit on my own.”

Cassandra leaned forward. “How’s that working out for you?”

Mireille vented a bitter laugh. “Really fucking well, obviously.”

Cassandra took the risk, grabbed Mireille’s hand. “You can tell me. I promise I would never betray your trust or say anything to him. And to be perfectly honest, I could use the distraction from my own shit.”

Mireille laughed again, then dipped her lashes, murmuring to the water. “I gave him a hand job while holding a dagger to his throat.”

Whatever Cassandra had been expecting to hear, that was certainly not it. Buoyant, cackling laughter boomed out of her, bouncing off the tiled alcove.

Mireille hissed out a shhhhhhh , glancing nervously to their closed privacy curtain.

“That’s…” Cassandra chuckled. “Wow. Feminine persuasion. Okay, I get it.”

“I couldn’t help myself. He apologized.”

Cassandra cocked her head. “Why do you seem disappointed by that?”

“Because I didn’t want him to! Not really. I mean, maybe I did. Who the fuck knows?” Mireille threaded her fingers behind her neck. “It was so much easier to hate him when I didn’t have to see his stupid gorgeous face and his perfect tempting body every day. He didn’t apologize on the day I found out. He just made all these excuses and?—”

“Would you show it to me?”

“Show you what?”

“The memory.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been living with your own interpretation of that event for centuries. Maybe it’s time for a second opinion?”

Mireille’s eyes widened, like she’d never considered such a thing. That someone else might see what had transpired between her and Ronin and help her figure out what to make of it.

“Okay.” She closed her eyes and blew out a long breath. “Go ahead.”

Cassandra closed her eyes as well, then placed her hand on Mireille’s wet shoulder. Her power sparkled to life, tingling through her veins and concentrating at the base of her skull.

And though she no longer needed to say her chant out loud, she said it in her mind; a mantra to focus her power and draw the memory forward.

Lui ganeth, lui cathona. Lui ganeth, lui cathona , she chanted. Out of mind, out of body. Out of mind, out of body.

The scent of fallen pine needles surrounded her, and a cool breeze caressed her limbs, stirring her feathers.

“You. Fucking. KILLED HIM!” Mireille roared, the sword in her hands shaking violently as her fire swelled, crawling up the blade in a crackling blaze.

Ronin backed up a step, pleading. “I didn’t know,” he choked out. “I didn’t know, Mireille.”

“You slaughtered him before I even had a chance to—” Her voice broke, and she was furious to see that Ronin was echoing her tears. How dare he.

“Please. I didn’t...”

“You’re a fucking monster ,” she whispered, pain and regret stealing her breath.

He crashed to his knees. “What can I do? How can I fix this?”

“You can’t.” She towered over him. “Bring out the beast so that I can have my vengeance.”

She angled the flaming steel so close to his face that sweat pebbled across his forehead, and he squinted his eyes against the excruciating heat.

Ronin’s wolf burst forth, a violent shift so swift that he vomited.

The colossal creature crouched back onto his hind legs and sprang for her.

She pivoted away, calling upon her dancer’s grace, and Ronin crashed through the porch, the stairs crumbling to shards beneath him.

Mireille regained her footing and brandished her sword as a crazed smile tore across her face.

She would make him pay for this. She would make him suffer . Anything. Anything at all to stop this terrible, soul-shredding grief tearing through her.

It was the last thought in her mind as the white wolf stood, shook off the wooden shards, and rushed ? —

Cassandra stopped the memory right before Mireille drove the sword into the wolf’s eye.

Across the tub, a single tear tracked down Mireille’s cheek. “I called him a monster that day. But I was the monster.”

“You were devastated. And angry.”

“Do not excuse what I did to him.”

Cassandra lifted her palms, placating. “Do you know what I saw in that memory?” Mireille raised her head, shame and agony crawling through her silver eyes. “I saw a male desperately in love, looking for any way to right the wrong he did. He was fighting the shift. Trying to call off his wolf. He didn’t want to hurt you.”

“He already had.” Mireille broke Cassandra’s gaze, staring at the damp tiles. “And the only thing I wanted to do in that moment was make him feel an ounce of my pain. How could I have fallen in love with someone who would ruthlessly slaughter humans like that?”

“He regretted it, though, didn’t he?”

Mireille nodded. “It haunted him. What he’d done on that battlefield in Aethalia. How the Empire had used him. He’d admitted as much to me when we were at the Otto estate together.”

“Seems like maybe you were lashing out at him because of what you’d just learned about yourself. Maybe even lashing out at a world that had branded your father a second-class citizen. And using Ronin as a scapegoat.” She softened her voice. “When he didn’t deserve it.”

Mireille dipped her head into her hands. “Creator, what a mess. What do I do?”

“You do what he did today. You apologize.”

“And what? Just admit that what I did was wrong?”

Cassandra smirked. “Yes, that’s usually how apologies work.”

“What if…what if it doesn’t change anything? What if I apologize and he still hates me?”

“That’s a chance you’re going to have to take. You can’t control his reaction.”

“I don’t know. I think I’d rather just let him hate me. If I open my heart to him again, who’s to say we wouldn’t cause each other more pain?”

Mireille’s fears mimicked Cassandra’s own tangled mess of a love life. Since the moment she’d met Tristan, it had been one pain after another, her heart bruising the more she’d exposed it to him.

“That’s the risk we all take though, don’t we?” She smiled wryly. “We delude ourselves into thinking it’s worth the pain. You take the bad along with the good. What’s the other option? To never experience love at all?”

“Do you regret it?” Mireille’s face was more open and raw than Cassandra had ever seen it. “Falling in love with Tristan, now that you know his fate may be tied to someone else?”

Cassandra’s chest constricted. “No. I will never regret it. The night I finally gave myself to him, I was done trying to protect my heart. I’d take as much time as he could offer me. I’d hoped it was going to be a little longer.” She shrugged. “Even though I only felt it for a short amount of time, I wouldn’t give up that love for anything. And perhaps…perhaps I will find it again.”

Cassandra didn’t know who she was trying to convince, herself or Mireille. The she-wolf was staring at her, brows pinched, like she didn’t quite believe it either.

But Mireille sighed, her face softening. “You are very wise for someone who’s only lived two decades.”

Cassandra snorted. “I’ve dealt with a lot in those two decades. Hopefully the next hundred will be a bit less dramatic.”

Mireille laughed. “And how are you so good at interpreting memories?”

“I lived a thousand different lives as a Shrouded Sister.” She leaned in, conspiratorially. “I used to keep the sexy memories.”

Mireille cocked an eyebrow. “Pervert.”

“You have no idea.” Cassandra snickered. “Though obviously nothing compares to the real act. It sounds silly, given that I’ve only had it a few times, but High Gods I miss sex.”

Mireille blew a breath through pursed lips. “Me too.”

Cassandra’s brows rose. “Have you not… I mean, you’ve been here for… Not once in?—”

“Oh, I’ve had it. No, I miss good sex. The kind that leaves your body hungry and aching for days afterward.” Mireille sighed. “So, this is what girlfriends do, huh? Sit around in a bath and talk about their feelings?”

“Pretty much. It’s fun, right? Do you feel better?”

Mireille tilted her head, assessing. “I’m not sure. Let’s talk more about sex. That was helping.”

Cassandra chuckled. “I told you, I don’t have much experience with it.”

“Oh please.” Mireille waved a hand, splashing through the water. “You went to bed with an Imperial Prince. From the oldest and most powerful Fae bloodline in Ethyrios. I highly doubt the experience gets much better than that.”

“Well, that’s depressing.” Though deep down, Cassandra suspected Mireille wasn’t wrong.

And now it was Mireille’s turn to comfort Cassandra. “You don’t know for sure what that vision means. And even Ronin admitted that the Teles Chrysos only think that Tristan and Ione are fated. Your Turning might have changed everything.”

Cassandra rubbed her wrinkled fingers, shrugging, trying to snuff out the cruel ember of hope Mireille had just planted in her chest. “I guess we’ll see when we get out of here.”

“ That’s the spirit. So, details?”

Cassandra laughed again, despite herself. “He… It wasn’t even so much about the mechanics—though he was very, very good at those—it was the way he made me feel. Like I was his most important person. Like he worshiped every inch of my body. And he really paid attention, you know? To the things I liked. Every time he…”

“Don’t get shy on me now,” Mireille prodded. “You can say it. Every time he made you come?”

“Yes,” Cassandra blushed, some of her innate Sister-ly primness returning, “every time he made me come it was like he won something. Like he was playing my body as his own personal instrument. Making me sing just for him. My pleasure was even more important to him than his own. And I wanted to give that to him, too, you know? I’m not saying that meaningless sex can’t be pleasurable. Maybe when we get out of here and I find the courage to move on, I might even want some. But right now, I just… I can’t imagine it.”

“I know what you mean,” Mireille said, sadness snaking through her silver eyes. “But I will say this—don’t knock hate-fucking until you’ve tried it.”

Cassandra sputtered. “Is that what you and Ronin have been doing during your sparring sessions?”

“Not yet.” Mireille squirmed along the bench. “But honestly, this conversation has me seriously considering it.”

“I don’t think it’s a very good idea.”

“Why not? I can tell he still wants me. Quite badly based on how quickly I finished him earlier. Maybe if we bang the hatred out, we could go back to normal? Go back to being friends? Like we were up at the estate before…before everything went to shit. Maybe if we hate fuck each other, all this tension and angst will go away.”

“When in the history of the world has that ever worked?”

“We could be the first.”

Cassandra patted Mireille’s hand. “Sure you could.”

Mireille pushed up out of the tub, then grabbed a rolled towel from the shelf. “Come on, we should get going.”

Cassandra sat in the churning water a moment longer, gazing up at Mireille. “This was…nice.”

Mireille smiled, one of those rare genuine ones that lit up her whole face. She was unearthly beautiful. Cassandra understood why Ronin had never gotten over her. “I agree.”

Cassandra climbed out of the tub, shaking out her feathers.

Mireille handed her a towel. “But next time we do this, I’m going to need a lot more intricate details about your sex life.”

Cassandra laughed, wrapping herself up in the plush towel and wiping down her limbs.

And for the first time in the High Gods knew how long, she could actually feel some of her burden lifting.

Maybe this was the help that the Goddess had intended for Mireille to give her after all.

A friend to offer some gentle laughter on a rough day.