63. Show No Weakness

Show No Weakness

T he sword took Cass in the shoulder, piercing just under his collarbone as he threw his bleeding, broken body across me. Power struck the princess like a warhammer, vicious retribution dealt by the Court of Mercy for a royal who dared to attack her own bloodline.

The world went silent.

For one timeless moment, I met her sapphire eyes, seeing only confusion. Then she crumpled, her body dissolving into ash and slumping down like snow. My eyes went wide, horror a cold knot in my chest. Mercy had more than killed her. Mercy had destroyed her, would have done that to Cass —

"Cass," I whimpered, dragging myself out from under him. My blood dripped onto Tarra's ashes in crimson accusation.

He was making sobbing sounds, covered in blood, a sword and seven arrows impaling him. Iron, he had iron in him, iron and poison —

"What do I do, Cassie?" I sobbed out, holding my hand against my bleeding side. "What do I do?"

He grabbed the sword by the blade and pulled it out, inch by inch. "Arrows," he said, gasping the word. "Take them out. I… I…"

Can't heal , I finished in my head, but I was already moving. I already knew. Had known from the moment I'd seen the blood soaking his back.

I'd never removed an arrow before, but I'd been out fishing before, and an arrow was kind of like a really big fishhook. The barbs held it in, and you only ever ripped them out if you were fishing for keeps. Ripping a fishhook out of a fish's gullet was a death sentence. I didn't have one of those lovely metal graspers people used to take fishhooks out, but that didn't matter. I was a resourceful girl.

My hands didn't shake. I snapped off the ends of two of the arrows, jammed them into the first wound, and prised his torn flesh open. A wash of blood flowed down my side.

Cass screamed in pain, an animalistic sound that echoed up the valley. Voices answered, fast and frightened and not nearly far enough away. No one could know how badly he was hurt. They would only do it again—better this time.

I gripped the arrow in my teeth, arms trembling from the force required to keep Cass' body from clinging to the tines of the arrowhead, and pulled it out of my soulmate.

He cried out for the second. Sobbed on the third. Was silent for the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh.

He didn't stop bleeding.

It soaked the ground, pooled around us, so much; too much. His skin was ashen and cold. He wouldn't make it until a healer could be found. He wouldn't make it at all.

No , I thought viciously, focusing on the Court. You cannot allow this .

Mercy felt distant, remote, my connection attenuated almost past my reach. Cass was Mercy's beloved, but I was Cass' beloved, and Mercy still answered to me. I'd reached it once. I could do it again.

I was mortal. When I called on the Court of Mercy, it answered with time and slaughter. Men dropping dead, corpses rotting, even steel turning to rust.

Cass' body wasn't dead; not yet. If he could heal before he bled out, not in months but in moments… if I could find a way to bind my connection to the Court back to him…

His blood. He's in his blood.

I shoved my blood-soaked fingers into the wound on my side, agony singing through me, and demanded, Give me time !

Mercy answered.

Faery's wild power thundered into me—into us , turning the clock forward. Pain ripped through me, every sensation cranked to eleven.

My wounds sewed shut, sealing Cass' blood inside me. His flesh closed. Sharp feathers tore through his clothing. Claws sank into the ground. My soulmate's body arced up in a rictus of agony, the Court raging through him, saving him, killing me, time running through us like water—

"No, stop—!"

Cass. His voice—terrified.

I jerked back, the power of the Court cutting off suddenly. Every inch of my skin ached. My hair felt heavy, and when I shoved myself up off the ground, it fell past my shoulders.

"Q…Quyen…" Cass panted out my name, holding his body off the ground with one hand. He trembled, pain in every line of his body, pain I couldn't feel , it was like he was gone — "Don't panic," he said, that agony in every word. "Lioness, please."

People ran down the slope for us. "Your majesties!"

My focus snapped to the here-and-now; to the guards racing to help, and to every eye that would be on us. "Up," I hissed. "Act like it doesn't hurt. They can't know."

His eyes widened, then hardened. He didn't have his magic, but Cass knew control. He got up with the sleek power of a panther and held a hand down to me.

I took it and stood, then turned and steadied myself. Every part of me hurt. It was like some core aspect of me had been scooped out and left bloody, a void inside my soul that would never heal.

"Good. You're here," I said, making my voice cold. I didn't think Cass would be able to speak without sounding injured.

I had no idea what I'd done to him… to us. But he was alive. At least there was that.

"Your majesties," one of the guards said. Her eyes skittered across the scene. "Are you…"

"Injured?" I asked disdainfully. "The healer-King and his soulmate? What do you think?" I shook my head, as if disgusted. "Six archers posted in the woods," I said, pointing to them with unerring memory. "They're probably piles of crumbling bone. See what you can find. The infantry was a bit more trouble, as you saw, and the princess," I said, jerking my chin towards the slumped heap of gray ash that was all that was left of Tarra, "was never clever enough to come up with this on her own. Find Yllana and confine her until we decide what to do about her. The Misted Duke, too."

The guard's throat bobbed. "Yes, your majesty," she said, her eyes darting up to Cass, who stood there, silently looming.

I licked my lips, tasting blood. My scars burned. "Take care with your investigation, soldier," I said coolly. "Don't make me wonder how a dimwit princess managed to get six archers and a squad of trained fighters within spitting distance of my palace."

She paled further. "Yes, your majesty," she said again.

I walked over to the closest outcropping, Cass following me in stony silence, and set my bloody hand on it. My veins ached and the Court answered me sluggishly, as if unsure of my right to command it, but it did answer, and the stone of Mercy made a door to our bedroom. "I want the first report at nightfall," I said, and stepped through the door without waiting for an answer.

The second the doorway closed behind us, Cass collapsed. He didn't even stagger. One moment he was standing with his spine ramrod straight, and the next he was on the floor, shaking, making tiny sounds of pain.

I dropped onto my knees next to him, the pain of the impact singing up along my femurs. "Cassie—"

He curled up into a fetal position, his wings clattering as he shook from the pain. I couldn't feel any of it. The lack of that innate connection to Cass – of the biofeedback from his reflexive healing – left me unmoored, like I'd lost one of my senses. Cass was supposed to be in my blood and bones.

"I don't know how to hurt," he said, sounding like he was on the verge of weeping. "I'm— It—"

"Shh, shh." I brushed the hair out of his face, trying to soothe. "It'll be okay, c?c vàng. We're going to figure this out. You're going to be okay, alright?"

Cass smiled for me, the corners of his mouth trembling and his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. They were gold, now, all the way through, the slow change of his body accelerated with what I'd done to save him. "Are you lying for me, lioness?"

"No," I said, my throat going tight. "I'm not a liar. It has to be true. I won't—" My breath hitched. I had to close my eyes and make myself breathe, falling into the habits of meditation to keep my throat from closing with the pain. "I won't let it be a lie."

He tilted his face into my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. "That's good, then," he said, closing his eyes. Even his lashes trembled, the tremors running through his whole body. "I don't think I can make it to the bed," he whispered. "I think I need—" His voice hitched. "—a healer."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and bit my lip, trying to think fast. Whoever had been behind the assassins couldn't be allowed to know that Cass was injured, let alone entirely without access to his magic or the Court's power. They'd clearly intended that – had needed to cut off his ability to heal or respond to the attack – but if they knew they'd succeeded, they'd send more people, and that would be the end.

The palace healers were out. Some of them were probably lovely people, but I had no idea who among them was loyal, who resented Cass, and who saw him as a usurper and outsider. I couldn't imagine people wanted to see any of his noxious family on the throne—but Cass was scary. Terrifying, even; a man closer to god than fae. Someone out there clearly preferred any other Marys to him, and that someone had a presence in the palace.

In the whole world, the only people I was sure wouldn't want to hurt Cass – the only ones other than me – were Vad and Dani.

"I'm going to the Veiled Castle," I said grimly. "They surely have a healer or three there. Stay here and don't die, you hear me?"

"I don't— I don't think I'm dying," Cass said, his voice cracking. "I can wait here for you if you like, majesty, but may I have a pillow, first?"

A sob escaped, trying to be a laugh, and I almost burst into tears. "Yeah, okay. I've got you," I said, forcing the words out. I got to my feet, wobbling, and fetched his pillow and a blanket off of the bed.

Cass lifted his head for me, the corners of his mouth trembling, so I could tuck the pillow under his head. I draped the blanket over him, then tipped his chin up and kissed him. He made a low sound, lashes fluttering closed over his golden gaze.

"I'm coming back," I whispered. "As fast as I can."

"Go," he whispered back. A line formed between his brows. "Come home safe to me."

I went.