“For now.” Eamon said.
Tristan stood and turned to leave the room.
“Oh and brother?” Eamon piped up, dragging Varuna into his lap and arranging her wings over his shoulder. “There isnothingI would not do to protect our family’s interests. I’m delivering a speech to my subjects in a little over a week. I expect a name by then—a rebel I can make an example of. If you dare betray me or fail to deliver, I’ll have Mistress Fortin shipped to Tartarus as entertainment for the inmates. And will send you there in Nessite chains to watch.”
Tristan’s wings involuntarily shivered at the mentions of both the notorious continental prison and the elemental power-suppressing chains he remembered all too well from that night on Maksym’s yacht.
He shot his brother a wicked grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Imperial Majesty.”
Eamon nodded as he turned to Varuna and whispered in her ear, running his hand up her thigh. She giggled like a schoolgirl before Tristan, barely able to hide his disgust, pulled the door shut.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Cassandra clung to Hella’s broad shoulders, hanging on for dear life.
She normally relished moving through the clouds above her beloved jumble of a city. Loved watching the tiny people flow against each other like ants gathering food into their hill.
But she was normally doing so at a pace that didn’t make her want to hurl.
Cassandra had quickly learned that Hella did nothing half-assed.
She’d nearly screamed when the red-winged giantess had barreled into her room this morning, crowing some nonsense about early worms and birds, then dragged her into the backyard for an invigorating workout session. Claimed they’d be doing it every morning while Hella was staying at the bungalow with her to keep herspirits up.
And the sessionhadworked to keep Cassandra distracted from the reason her spirits were down in the first place—that heart-wrenching conversion she’d had with Tristan last night, the revelations on his history and his one true love.
Hella was a glorious training leader. At turns aggressive and encouraging, she’d pushed Cassandra to the brink of her capabilities and then nudged her just a bit further. It was the most empowering workout Cassandra had performed in years. It had allowed Cassandra to put her armor back on, refusing to mope around like some lovesick, heartbrokenfool.
The update at breakfast had also helped bolster her mood. Hella had received a windwhisper from Tristan, informing them that Arran Zephyrus had taken down Maksym and rescued Cael and Xenia. Palpable relief had loosened some of the weight bearing down upon her. Though she knew it wouldn’t fully lift until she saw her friend again in the flesh.
After breakfast, Cassandra had asked Hella if she would accompany her to the Temple. She wanted to check on how things were going since she’d been away, how the Temple and the supplicants had been faring since the Emperor had made weekly memory pullings mandatory. And after that, she planned to go to the Fang and Claw to see if Reena could enlighten them on the meaning of that symbol.
“Hold on,” Hella grunted as she tucked her wings and began a petrifying free fall towards the red-roofed Temple.
Cassandra closed her eyes and chomped down on her lip, caging in a scream as they fell out of the sky at maximum velocity.
Just when she was sure they were going to crash into the courtyard, Hella’s wings snapped out like a clap of thunder. As the female settled gently onto the ground, Cassandra opened her eyes and took a deep breath, her faith in the High Gods spiking since they’d seen fit to save her from death by Windrider.
Cassandra grabbed Hella’s arm to steady herself, to keep the world from spinning, and attempted to smooth her windblown hair.
“Wimp,” Hella snickered.
“You’re going to have to give me a few flights to get used to that,” Cassandra grumbled before turning away and starting at the scene in the courtyard.
Several red-jacketed Empire soldiers brandishing stun pistols had lined up a group of twenty obliviates in front of the Temple. Their family members were gathered around, watching with pinched, horror-stricken faces. One woman in a dust-blue factory uniform was wailing on a stone bench, crying out for her husband.
Borea stood on the steps of the Temple, a mellow breeze stirring her platinum hair. Though the Beastrunner appeared to be the portrait of preternatural calm, the claws curving down from her knuckles and the tense line of her lips suggested she was anything but.
Cassandra motioned for Hella to follow her as she slipped around the edge of the crowd and made her way towards Mother Superior.
Borea’s eyes darted to Cassandra, bulged briefly at Hella, then snapped back to the courtyard. As if she didn’t dare take her gaze off those Empire soldiers for a single second.
“What’s going on?” Cassandra asked, fists clenched.
“A new Imperial decree,” Borea answered in a low, guttural growl. As if her polar bear were about to take over. “Newly created obliviates are being shipped to the continent.”
Nausea gripped Cassandra’s stomach.
Obliviated humans had always been allowed to remain with their families. Or to find a place at one of the four Temples throughout the colonies if they had no family to return to.
