“I feel that way before every battle. We’ll be okay. We’ve prepared. We have thousands of fighters from three different territories on our side.” He rubbed the back of her neck, and she relaxed slightly. “Do you want to try mind-jumping into Eamon’s present again? Maybe it’ll work this time.” An attempt to soothe her anxiety and nothing more. He doubted it would work any better today than it had the past few times they’d tried.
Cassandra shook her head. “I can’t stop thinking about what Reena said after she sent my soul back. That we’d see each other again sooner than I could imagine.” The fear dampening her bright, blue-gray eyes wrecked him. “What if…what if I die again today?”
He pulled her into him, running his wings along hers and relishing the little shiver that coursed through her body. “You are not going to die today. Or ever again. I won’t allow it.”
She released a breathy little laugh, then parted her lips—probably to continue arguing with him. But before she could say a word, a boom echoed across the hill.
Signys landed in a clearing, then laid down a wing.
Cael climbed down and even from this vantage point, Tristan could see the shock and confusion on his Captain’s face.
Tristan’s stomach dipped as he rushed for Cael, meeting him halfway across the field. “What?—”
“It’s empty,” Cael said. “The palace is empty.
“Your brother is no longer in Delos.”
The Crystal Throneroom of the Imperial Palace in Delos was the most beautiful place Cassandra had ever seen.
Crafted entirely of gold-veined white marble, the circular room was ringed by arches on the first floor and topped by a mezzanine of sculpted columns. Far, far above, a massive domed ceiling was decorated in gold filigree and sported ornate frescoes honoring the Erabis family’s conquests. Scaffolding branched out beneath one stark white section bearing a spiderweb of sketched lines.
Eamon’s unfinished addition.
But despite the room’s undeniable beauty, the scene that awaited the rebels was gruesome.
A golden-haired Beastrunner male wearing an Imperial soldier’s uniform sat atop the throne in a growing pool of blood. Rivulets of red trailed down the translucent crystal, and the Typhon steel spear pierced through his chest had a folded letter tacked to the end.
The male himself was motionless. Long-dead, Cassandra supposed.
And as terrible a sight as that was, the scene leading up to the throne was worse.
Piles of human bodies lined the aisle. Men and women of all ages, sizes, and races.
No children, praise Anaemos.
The bodies were intact. Preserved, even. Cassandra didn’t scent a hint of rot.
Even so, someone retched behind her.
Tristan and Cassandra and their Council had entered the palace easily.Tooeasily. Not a single door nor gate had been locked, and there wasn’t a soldier in sight.
“What the fuck happened here?” Cael breathed out, a step behind Cassandra.
A vein jumped in Tristan’s jaw as he answered. “These are the obliviates that Eamon had shipped from the colonies. Darius—” Tristan’s sad eyes flicked to the male pinned to the throne “—told me he’d seen them. But he didn’t know what Eamon was doing with them.”
“Whatwashe doing with them?” Cassandra asked, her voice barely a croak. The level of devastation spread out before her was…numbing. A cold emptiness that frosted out every other emotion.
Tristan stepped onto the dais and leaned down to examine Darius.
The male awoke with a shuddering wet cough, his bloodshot eyes darting madly as the group jolted back.
“He’s gone,” Darius garbled out. “They’re all gone.” He grasped for the spear in his chest, attempting to remove it, but was too weak to manage it.
Tristan knelt down before him as Cassandra, Cael, and Ronin crowded in behind.
“Shh, Darius, it’s alright,” Tristan said, placing a hand on the male’s leg. Darius was seconds from death. Cassandra couldn’t believe he’d held out this long. But perhaps he’d been preserving himself for this very moment? “What happened to these humans?”
Darius coughed, blood bubbling down his chin. “He was using their bodies. Hijacking their obliviated souls to spy on her. To spy onus. He enslaved a chronomancer to help him.”
