Page 48

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

“ I really don’t want to give you the satisfaction, do-gooder, but High-Gods-damn, that feels nice.”

Cassandra smiled softly as she rubbed healing salve into Ana’s stiff ankle joints.

It was well-past midnight, the Kennel dark and quiet. She’d come with Silas again, but had sent him home a few minutes ago when she’d poked her head out the door and seen him sleeping against the wall.

Some lookout.

They’d been getting up earlier than normal to train for a few hours each day before Ronin and Mireille joined them. And the cost of her sleep was worth it; her balance, her aim, the force of her blows—they were all improving.

Before Cassandra had left tonight, Mireille had tried to convince her to stay home. With the appeal less than a week away, not to mention Mireille’s performance at World’s End tomorrow night, Cassandra shouldn’t be risking exposure at the Kennel. There were plenty of other volunteers, so Mireille had said.

But none of those Fae had ever gotten through to Ana. And after several visits, the woman was finally opening up. Letting Cassandra deliver extra food. Letting Cassandra heal some of her chronic impairments.

Ana vented a contented sigh against the side of the cell as Cassandra’s hands moved over her joints.

“So, what’re you in for, then?” the old woman rasped.

Cassandra tried not to squeal with excitement. This was the first personal question Ana had ever asked her.

“You’re going to laugh.”

“Try me.” Ana’s eyes remained closed.

“I was arrested in the colonies,” Cassandra said, not clarifying that she used to be human. She’d let Ana draw her own conclusions. “I used to hunt through people’s memories, looking for things to steal and sell. Then I’d re-distribute the drachas to the poor. They called me the Savior Sister.”

Ana grunted. “’Course they fucking did. And you ate it up, didn’t you? Martyr.”

Cassandra chuckled. “Why, what are you in for? Being a crotchety old bitch?”

Ana’s wheezing laughter caused several humans in the neighboring cells to stir. “You’re not far off.” Her laughter died in her chest and her eyes danced with long-simmering anger. “I killed a Deathstalker. Down in Primarvia. Bastard had been following me for months. He tried to feed from me and wasn’t he surprised when I poked him in the chest with a Typhon dagger. I was arrested the next day, then thrown in here. Ironic, really, since as soon as I arrived, I became the favorite meal of the Koenig and his Brethren.” She ran a hand through her tangled hair, down her filthy dress. “They’ve since lost interest, praise Anaemos.”

“How long have you been in here?” Cassandra asked, her heart in her throat.

Ana’s rheumy eyes locked on Cassandra’s. “Fifty-seven years. Since the day after my eighteenth birthday. Longer’n anyone else.”

Cassandra choked back her horror, her sorrow.

Ana hobbled over to her bedroll, wrapping herself up in her threadbare blankets. “And Stygios willing, I won’t make it to fifty-eight.”

Cassandra didn’t know what else to say. And she didn’t think Ana would be pleased to hear what she wanted to say. That she shouldn’t lose hope. That there was always something to live for.

She pushed the tub of salve through the bars. “Rub a pea-sized amount into each ankle morning and night. You should start to feel more permanent relief in a day or two.”

Ana didn’t answer as Cassandra brushed up from the floor, swiping away a useless tear.

Fifty-seven years .

She would get Ana out. She would get all of them out.

And then make sure no human was ever treated this way again.

She took some small comfort knowing that Tristan was still out there fighting for that dream. And though his absence hadn’t become any easier to bear—nor had the thought of him fated to Ione—if that’s what it took to change this world, then her scarred heart mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

She opened the door to the Kennel, distracted by her thoughts of revenge and revolution.

The Brethren was on her before she had a chance to run.

He grabbed her upper arms and slammed her against the door. The rough metal pulled at her feathers as she tried to fight back, use some of that new Fae strength she’d been honing with Ronin, Mireille, and Silas. But it was late, it had been a long day, and she’d been taken by surprise.

She recognized him: a Windrider with dark brown wings and shoulder-length blond hair. One of the Koenig’s crueler Brethren. A feat in itself. He often had the youngest human females trembling in his lap when Cassandra had seen him around the city.

His rancid breath was hot against her cheek as he crowded her further against the door. “What are you doing in here, challenger?”

Cassandra snarled back, fear dissipating as she remembered he couldn’t harm her, not really. Not thanks to the protection of her blood vow. “What does it look like?”

“These humans are not to be cared for without the Koenig’s permission.”

She gave him a smarmy smile. “And what are you going to do about it? You can’t hurt me. Only the Koenig will have that privilege during my appeal.”

His vicious smile caused her own to falter. “You should have listened more carefully to the words of that vow. No Fae within Tartarus can harm you.”

He heaved her up over his shoulder, and her stomach dropped when he didn’t turn up the main avenue that led to the castle.

Instead, he turned south.

To the city gate.

To the moat.

Cassandra scrambled backward, her feet slipping on the edge of the stone bridge. The waters of the moat were smooth onyx glass beneath her.

She knew they wouldn’t be for long.

The Brethren—fuck, she didn’t even know his name, couldn’t curse it to the High Gods—was a solid wall at her back, gripping her shoulders and inching her forward.

“Someone should’ve done this weeks ago,” he snarled into her ear. “The Koenig is too honorable to do it himself. He hews to the old ways. Not to mention, I think he actually wants to cut you down himself.”

“You’d better let him,” Cassandra growled, fighting against the ice-cold fear paralyzing her limbs. “If he finds out that you?—”

He slapped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet, little pixie. They’ll find you faster if they hear you. They’re most active at night.” He uncovered her mouth and placed his hands upon her back.

Then shoved her off the bridge.

Her body shut down when she plunged into the frigid water. She could no longer tell which way was up or down, could barely move her limbs. And she swore her wings were working against her, dragging her further into the depths.

She scrambled upward, aiming for the faint glow of the city lights above her. Breaching the surface, she hauled in a razor-sharp breath, then clenched her chattering teeth, treading as quietly as possible to stay afloat.

A loud clang thundered through the night—the iron portcullis falling into place. The Brethren saluted her through it, then turned and wandered back into the city.

Fucking bastard . If she left this moat intact, she would skin him ali?—

A splash echoed to her left.

She whimpered. The wall of the moat was less than fifty feet in front of her. So close, yet so far.

She swiveled her head, then tried not to piss herself as a brown-and-green-scaled back crested the surface on the other side of the bridge.

It was moving.

Fast .

Far faster than she was capable of. Her heart stuttered and her lungs seized.

She took a nanosecond to calm herself—she would not go out like this. A snack for some mindless creature in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She hurled herself forward, arms flailing and legs kicking. Making an obscene amount of noise, but she didn’t care. The creature had already homed in on her.

She needed to move . Her shoulders burned as she pulled her heavy wings through the water. If she could just make it to the wall?—

Another wave crashed to her right and a second pair of reptilian eyes blinked above the surface.

Adrenaline flooded her veins in a tingling rush, and she surged forward.

Something brushed her foot and she screamed, swallowing a mouthful of brackish water. But she didn’t pause, didn’t turn, didn’t look back.

She pushed harder, limbs straining, teeth gritted. Her vision was blurry, and she could barely feel her frost-bitten fingers and toes as she dragged them through the water.

One thought and one thought only blared through her mind.

Survive. Survive. Survive.

After what felt like an eternity, her hand cracked against stone, and she bleated a relieved cry.

The relief was short-lived; she turned to find the two beasts closing in and snapping their jaws. Taunting her. Toying with their food.

She swiveled around and pushed herself up, reaching for the top of the moat wall. Her fingers didn’t even make it halfway.

A frustrated howl tore up her throat, and she glanced over her shoulder.

An open maw hurtled toward her, water sluicing between enormous, razor-sharp teeth.

Time slowed. She thrashed upward and for one heart-stopping second, the edges of her fingertips grazed the top of the wall.

Hope surged in her chest, then died a swift death as her fingers slipped. She splashed down into the water.

Pressing her wings against the wall, she froze as the beast’s jaws raced closer.

And closer.

And closer .

So close she could smell its rotten breath, feel the warmth on her face.

She squeezed her eyes shut and sent three thoughts out into the ether.

One to Mama.

One to Xenia.

And one to Tristan.

Telling them all how much she loved them. How much they’d meant to her. She’d uttered the sentiment to Mama and Zee plenty of times.

But she’d never said it to Tristan.

He’d been about to say it before she was arrested, but she’d stopped him. And right now, as she waited to be eaten alive, she regretted it more than any decision she’d ever made.

She hoped he’d known. That she’d loved him all along.

A wave of water splashed her face, a surge from the approaching beast, and she braced herself for life-ending pain.

It never came.

Two strong hands curved beneath her armpits and wrested her from the moat. The beast’s teeth closed onto the toe of her boot and yanked it from her foot.

Her heel dragged against the rough wall as she was pulled backwards and laid out on the cold ground. Her rescuer pushed wet strands from her face.

She opened her eyes, and the world fell silent.

She must have had died after all. She was in that beast’s belly having some kind of post-death dream.

Because staring down at her, his amber eyes ablaze with fear and anger, was Tristan.

Tristan .

Her throat was raw, and she tried to speak, but only managed to cough up foul-smelling water.

Tristan’s fear and anger turned to shock as his gaze snagged on her dirty white wings. He cupped her cheeks, a relieved smile brightening his handsome face, then choked out an incredulous laugh.

“Daredevil?”

Cassandra smiled back at him—or what she thought might be a smile, her senses too addled to truly tell—then beckoned him to lean in closer.

When he obliged, his lids sliding closed and his lips parting for a kiss, she pushed up onto an elbow.

And clocked him across the jaw.