Instead, the Cataclysm is sprawled across his chair in the corner with his feet casually resting on what appears to be a massive antler.
“Good morning, little Conduit.” A smug smile etches across his face at my attention.
I push up into a sitting position, leveling my gaze on the antler as he obviously wants me to. My long-sleeved, high-necked silk nightgown is a light blue today, and my hair feels silky, wispy across my shoulders as if recently brushed.
I have no doubt there are commands etched through the blood runes meant to make me compliant as well as caging me, cutting me off from the essence that threads through the world. But today, I can feel the embers of rage deep within my belly, simmering at the ready.
The Conduit isn’t supposed to be emotional or irrational. My opinions, my wants and needs, are all secondary to what the universe demands from me. A personal vendetta is trite, completely beneath me.
But that rage slowly simmers within me, and as soon as it’s within my reach, within my grasp to wield, I’ll wipe the smugness from the Cataclysm’s face.
My aunt might not have been willing or even able to kill him. They were soul bound, after all. But I’m the Conduit now.
I settle back against the pillows, keeping my gaze leveled on the creature across from me. I’m fairly certain now that I have Bellamy to thank for this cage, though I cannot fathom her blood being powerful enough to hold me. It’s likewise difficult to imagine that the cunning creature regarding me from across the room is capable of painstakingly creating this containment web.
No, the antler that’s clearly been wrenched from the head of a beast of myth and legend is much more his style. It’s also evidence of yet another childish tantrum from a creature with too much power. Power he wields without any moral judgement.
Bone white but iridescent where the light from the milk-glass lamp reflects against its curves, the antler has clearly been snapped off near the base, where it’s still spattered with blood.
I know of only one beast with antlers like that. A beast I hadn’t even known existed until the week before I was taken. And, I have to admit, if only to myself, that it feels like even more weeks have passed since then.
A celestial dragon.
My soul-bound mate.
Rath.
Rath went up against his father. That’s what’s kept the Cataclysm away for these few days, giving Jewels the opening to help me. Rath is trying to get me back. Or at least he knows — they know — that the Cataclysm is responsible for my absence.
“If he was dead,” I say dismissively, my voice still a painful tangle, “you would have brought me his head.”
“Next time,” the creature that resides within the Cataclysm snarls with deadly promise. Unable to hide his anger at my lack of concern or fear, he shoves off the chair, kicking the antler out of his path as he strides to my bedside. “Next time, I’ll take his heart with a knife carved out of his own —”
“Still won’t be enough to kill him,” I say. Thankfully, I sound sure, because I’m not entirely certain of that.
The Cataclysm looms over me. “A weapon of his own flesh? Dipped in your blood? Even a mythical dragon tied to the Conduit will fall to that blade.”
I sigh as if utterly bored. “Is that how you killed your brother, Oso? With my aunt’s blood?” I say mockingly. “Did you give Disa his heart on a silver platter? Did she love you forever and ever after?”
“Love is for simple creatures.”
I meet his gaze steadily. “You were never enough,” I rasp through my damaged vocal cords. “Never enough without your brothers. I know, because once you killed Ward, she had no use for you and Ari. It was three or none.”
I don’t actually know anything of the sort. In fact, I’m pretty certain I’m wrong. But on some level, the Cataclysm believes me. Because he heaves me off the bed and sinks his teeth into my neck, not caring if he hurts me, damages me.
This time, though, I only pretend to go limp in his arms.
Only half drained and half dead is better than all the way dead, after all.
Still, the Cataclysm siphons enough of my essence, blood streaming down from the wound to soak my silk nightgown, that the room goes hazy. Right before I black out, he tosses me onto the bed, striding out of the room without looking back. Without noticing me watching him, even as the wound on my neck radiates pain throughout my system.
I catch sight of Jewels in the hall. Seeing the Cataclysm, she cowers, falling to her knees, but he simply snarls at her and strides out of my sight.
Jewels catches my gaze and holds it steadily for the entire time it takes for her to straighten and yank the door shut. With her on the outside.
I can’t remember the last time someone held my gaze like that without fear or awe, but I know it’s Jewels’s desperation fueling that courage. A desperate hope. And I already know it’s not herself she wants me to save. Not solely, at least.
The door latches, and the locks clunk back in place. Only then do I look to the antler now lying alongside my bed.
