Cassandra

by Nicola Shill

  She sensed the tug. She felt his body attempting to draw on hers and battled to maintain the stream. It petered out within seconds.

  Cassandra thought about the love Lorcan had packaged with his transfer to her. Inspired by that, she tried again. This time, when she sensed the tug, she poured forth all her love for Lorcan.

  It seemed to be working.

  His body drew energy hungrily from hers and she felt his wings twitch. He started to roll over and she slid off him to avoid becoming squashed underneath again. He flopped on to his back and she hunched tightly beside him as the heat began to overwhelm her body and her mind.

  ‘Come on, Lorcan!’ she screamed. ‘Wake up and save us!’ The air was starting to scorch her lungs again.

  Something was wrong. He had stopped moving. She pressed the side of her face to his chest and knew instantly that he’d succumbed, once again, to death.

  She remained slumped against him as the fire cut through her shield. She wept from emotional and physical agony, although her parched eyes could no longer form tears.

  ‘Lorcan, please!’ she sobbed. ‘Please try. I can’t do this on my own. I don’t know what to do.’

  Everyone must have known how unlikely it was that she would be able to do this, Lorcan included. Everyone but her. They hadn’t lied to her; they had told her there was a risk. Okay, so their exact words were that there was a very great risk, but after everyone had moved past their initial reservations about Lorcan being her paladin, they had continued all the way through to optimism, and swept Cassandra along with them.

  Rage surged through her. Even if healing was an innate fae ability, everyone knew it required a healer – someone who had learned the skill over many years of apprenticeship – to do the hard stuff … like bring back a dead person! Zabeth had said that the transmutation energy would compensate for her lack of practice, but Cassandra didn’t even know what transmutation energy should feel like, so how could she gauge if she had received enough – or any at all?

  Lorcan’s beautiful lips were split, his skin was charred and his hair had burnt away. The tendons in his hands had started to contract, pulling them into claws. Lorcan the invincible; these fae were such frauds. Great knowledge was given to them as a birthright; they didn’t have to discover it for themselves. Health and longevity were taken for granted; they rarely needed to work for them as humans did.

  If Lorcan had been human, he would have taken her feeble bit of reviving energy and worked with it. He would have refused to allow death to reclaim him. A human’s spirit hung on for more than a few minutes; Cassandra had often heard of humans being brought back to life after longer than that – not a lot more, sure, but still more.

  But there was a limit to both human resilience and fae protection, and Cassandra had reached both. Her tormented mind and body needed to succumb to the siren call of death.

  Let go and the pain will end.

  She didn’t mind now. She would rather die than be found alive beside Lorcan’s dead body. With her eyes squeezed shut, she hauled her tortured body on top of him and cuddled into his chest, trying not to breathe because it hurt too much. This was how she wanted them to be found.

  She held on for just a second more as she gave herself a moment to mourn the end of her own life.

  And in that last second, she experienced a moment of clarity.

  If she was going to die anyway, she should at least try to make some good come of it. If Lorcan could pass his quiddity to her at his moment of death, then why couldn’t she pass hers to him? If she could revive him once more and, this time, give him a dose of human resilience then maybe – and she knew it was a long shot, but there was nothing left to lose – maybe it would be enough to sustain his life force until he was able to do it for himself.

  Cassandra’s brain was becoming muddled. It required desperate concentration just to process logical thoughts. She fixed a vision of Lorcan alive and healthy in her mind’s eye, then tried to imagine her humanity: her life, her memories and, most of all, her love.

  She let go, channelling it all into Lorcan, and embracing her own death willingly and unreservedly. The excruciating heat of the fire blanketed her prostrate body, but she didn’t even have the energy left to scream.

  As oblivion claimed her, she thought she felt Lorcan’s hands slide over her shoulders.

  — CHAPTER 78 —

  Welcome Back

  Hands were lifting Cassandra.

  She needed to stay where she was, on top of Lorcan, and keep trying to revive him. He should be alive, not her. She wanted to argue, but could manage no more than a whimper. It felt as though the flesh from the entire back of her body had been ripped off.

  Darkness reclaimed her.

  When she next awoke, she was lying on her back, wrapped loosely in a soft blanket and feeling no pain. Healing and vitality infused into her body from the numerous hands touching her.

  Not dead then.

  So, she had failed.

  Through scorched eyes, she glimpsed a blurry view of Eerin, Zabeth and Tani standing over her. Healers, none of whom she recognised, laid on hands and fixed her ravaged body. Oonnora appeared from above, trying to maintain a wobbly smile. ‘Welcome back,’ she whispered and then dripped soothing liquid into Cassandra’s eyes.

  Cassandra wanted to sit up and look for Lorcan’s body, but she was too weak. A picture of him charred and blistered was burnt into her brain. She knew he was dead: she could sense it – sense him, as though his spirit, now free of his body, had come to live within her. She revealed to him her sorrow and guilt, told him she had failed him, but his loving presence didn’t waver. Death had certainly calmed his demeanour.

  She wished she had died, too.

  Why were all these healers fixing her up? She was a human who had just killed one of them. Why were they bothering to save her? They easily counteracted her attempt to sit up. In truth, she wasn’t so eager to see her worst fears confirmed that she fought very hard.

  ‘Where’s Lorcan?’ she croaked.

  A dark shadow loomed over her. ‘Here,’ he said.

  He was the most glorious sight in the world. All traces of damage and trauma were gone and, most importantly, he was very much alive. He had bathed and dressed in his clothes that had been made especially for tonight’s celebration. He wore heavy black linen trousers and a top made from the same black linen but embroidered so luxuriously in a silver and gold waffle-weave pattern that the black background was barely visible. His obsidian pendant, that he had removed for the ordeal, was now back in place.

  She felt his joy in her head.

  ‘When are you going to stop lazing around and get ready for our party?’ he asked.

  This time, nothing could prevent Cassandra from lurching unsteadily to her feet and falling into Lorcan’s waiting arms. She burst into tears against his broad chest and he picked her up as if she were a baby, tucking the blanket securely around her. He held her until she had cried out all the fear, anger, pain, guilt and sorrow that had built up during the course of the ordeal. Over her last few sniffles, he whispered into her ear, ‘You’re a fairy now.’

  They laughed together at their good fortune and shared a long, passionate kiss, oblivious to the raised eyebrows and poorly stifled giggles around them.

  Oonnora averted her eyes for a reasonable length of time to wait for them to finish, but when they appeared to be settling in for a long and heavy petting session in the middle of the most public area in Gillwillan, she intervened. ‘Perhaps you could carry Cassandra home for me, Lorcan. She needs to get ready for the celebration.’

  A little later, when Cassandra re-emerged from her house, Lorcan was waiting outside. He smiled and raised his eyebrows. ‘Wow!’

  Cassandra basked in his admiration. She knew she looked beautiful. She was dressed in the same colours as him, in a simple long-sleeved black velvet dress, expertly tailored in the bodice to fit her torso smoothly, with a low, scooped neckline and a full, floor length skirt,
made all the more voluminous by layer upon layer of silver and gold tulle petticoats which peeped out at her feet as she walked. The neck and sleeve edges and hemline were finished with gold overstitching, and around her shoulders sat a fine wrap of silver and gold gauze. Her hair was piled loosely into a mass on top of her head with tendrils curling down here and there. Gold pins topped with jewelled dragonflies, which had been created especially for her, finished it all off. Around her neck, one of the emeralds from Grandma’s ring hung from a fine golden chain.

  Lorcan stepped forward and picked the emerald up, supporting it in his palm while he studied it. ‘You know, it’s customary for fae parents to give their children, at their initiation, a gemstone pendant which will be theirs for life,’ he told her. ‘We call it a ‘kindred stone’. There’s a traditional story about it representing the connection to family and also to the earth. It reminds us that everything on the planet, even the ground beneath our feet, is part of our family and must be valued and cared for.’

  Cassandra touched the emerald. ‘This was my grandmother’s. Zabeth had it made into a necklace.’

  Lorcan nodded and dropped the pendant, watching it snuggle back into her cleavage. He slid his arm around her waist and escorted her to their special revelry.

  — CHAPTER 79 —

  Coming Clean

  The minute Cassandra and Lorcan stepped into the agora, they were mobbed.

  They both now pulsed with clean, bright, yellow-white auras, coppery around the outer edges, echoing the transmutation fire and only ever seen around those who had endured it. The pulsations were evidence of an excess of energy resulting from the ordeal. It was uncomfortable for both of them, making them feel hyped-up and jittery, but it was considered to be very fortunate for others to touch the supercharged bodies and absorb some of the special energy. It was mutually beneficial because each touch reduced the energy excess. Cassandra and Lorcan both gave Gita long cuddles, ensuring that she absorbed as much energy as possible.

  Circulating through the crowd as a couple – a fae couple – filled Cassandra with an incredible feeling of rightness and joyous contentment. It was made all the more complete by the knowledge that Lorcan, having undergone a long overdue catharsis, was now experiencing an inner peace that he had not known since the disappearance of his parents. He’d obviously come a long way since Cassandra had first met him because he seemed to be enjoying his popularity. He was making genuine, interested conversations with those who pressed forward to meet and touch him rather than using his autopilot artifice.

  Cassandra was not the only one who had noticed Lorcan’s progress. The crowd in front of them parted and Eerin swept regally through.

  ‘Congratulations Cassandra, Lorcan.’ She nodded to each as she spoke. Turning back to Cassandra, her tone became more maternal. ‘You had us worried for a while there, Cassandra. You were dead when we found you and it took quite some time to revive you. We didn’t know how long you’d been dead for. We weren’t sure if it was even going to be possible to bring you back.’

  This was the first Cassandra had heard that there had been concern for her. Apparently, everyone else had decided against telling her. It explained the worried expressions she’d noticed in the faces when she’d surfaced and also how Lorcan had managed to be fixed up, cleaned up and dressed while she was still lying on the ground. Had he gone off to bathe and dress while her survival was hanging in the balance? She shot an uneasy glance in his direction, but Eerin intervened before she flung the accusation at him.

  ‘He didn’t know. Lorcan was alive when we found you, but only just. He didn’t know that you had died. We didn’t let him know, and he thought he wasn’t supposed to see you until he was presentable.’

  Lorcan faced Cassandra with an injured air. ‘How could you think I’d abandon you?’

  ‘Truly, Cassandra,’ Eerin assured her, ‘we let Lorcan believe that not only were you fine, but that it was customary for proselyte and paladin not to see each other again until you were both dressed in your triumphal clothes.’

  ‘You lied to him?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Cassandra felt Eerin’s pique – she actually felt it. This was going to take some getting used to. ‘He was just easy to steer because he was still recovering from the ordeal. When he came out of his house, all bathed and dressed up, to find you alive, but still not conscious, we all thought he was going to kill someone. Only Iznaya was game enough to stand between you and him. She refused to let him pass until he listened to her and understood that if you woke up to sense his worry or see him with a terrified look on his face, it could push you back under.’

  ‘You have no idea the effort it took to pretend to be calm when you woke up,’ Lorcan grumbled. ‘And now I understand why suddenly my brain is full of odd memories and images. They’re yours, aren’t they? You passed your quiddity to me.’

  Cassandra nodded, wondering, with some trepidation, what memories he was seeing.

  ‘That was a stupid risk you took.’

  ‘What did you want me to do, Lorcan? I couldn’t just leave you dead.’

  ‘Why not? That’s exactly what you should have done.’

  ‘Okay!’ Eerin raised her voice over the top of them. ‘It’s good to see that you two are fully restored. I’ll let you get back to it in a moment, but first, Lorcan, the council agreed a few days ago that this ordeal would be proof enough that you’ve overcome your control issues and dealt with the resentment and anger stemming from your parent’s disappearance. Since they were the final obstacles to your acceptance as an adult, your new status will be ratified at a special council meeting as soon as you feel up to being the focus of another celebration.’ She smiled warmly at Lorcan and laid an affectionate hand on his cheek. Then she turned and glided back through the crowd.

  — CHAPTER 80 —

  Ith’s Gift

  Cassandra began to feel more comfortable as her energy levels ebbed.

  She even gave Chayton a hug to share her energy with him. He’d been standing at the edge of the crowd trying to appear bored and disinterested, but Cassandra had been aware of his eyes following her. There was something about having a near-death experience that caused a realignment of values. Chayton was her brother in this world, and life was too short to hold on to resentment.

  What was she thinking? Life was too short? She had just been given an extra eight hundred or so years! She laughed and brushed her hand over Chayton’s cheek as she stepped away from him. Lorcan surprised her by stepping forward and laying a hand on Chayton’s shoulder for a moment.

  They watched Chayton move back into the crowd with his swagger now even more cocky. Cassandra looked up at Lorcan, and he shrugged. ‘I owed it to him, though I’m not sure he deserved it.’

  ‘Probably not, but we can afford to be generous tonight.’ She was wondering how many more touches it would take for them to reach a normal energy level when she suddenly remembered Ith. She was sure that he would benefit from being touched, and she had almost allowed her excess energy to be used up before she had thought of him. She desperately tugged on Lorcan’s arm and told him of her idea. At first, Lorcan tried to discourage her from going, but she was so adamant that he gave in and accompanied her.

  Cassandra was now so sure of the virtue of her plan that she avoided anyone else touching her as they moved directly out of the crowd and skirted around the edge of the agora until they reached Ith and Iznaya’s house. Although it was after dark, Iznaya and Ith were still outside, Ith dozing in his hammock and Iznaya sitting beside him, knitting, with Boggins asleep beside one foot and her spider spinning web beside the other. Because their house sat on the edge of the agora, the fire lit up their yard and the sounds of the revelry drifted over their hedge. They were frequently visited by party-goers who passed by on their circumnavigation of the bonfire. Zabeth was there now, sitting with Iznaya. She smiled warmly at the two of them as they approached. Lorcan hugged Zabeth and then Iznaya.

  ‘Don’t they look wond
erful?’ Iznaya said to Zabeth. ‘Look at them, standing there, so strong and happy. So beautiful. Haven’t they both come a long way over the past six months?’

  ‘They certainly look better than they did immediately after the fire,’ Zabeth observed.

  Iznaya laughed.

  ‘How did we look?’ asked Cassandra. She had a pretty good idea. She remembered Lorcan at the end: skin charred, hair incinerated and lips split.

  ‘Let’s just say that wings and body size became a useful identification tool,’ Zabeth said. Cassandra gasped. She hadn’t realised it had been that bad.

  Cassandra told them of her plan to help Ith by giving him energy. Iznaya looked as uncertain as Lorcan had, but Ith’s fragile voice called Cassandra over to his bedside.

  ‘Cassie,’ he drawled with a weak smile. His aura was no more than a faint sheen over his waxen skin. ‘Beautiful,’ he slurred.

  ‘I want you to take some energy,’ she said. ‘It might help.’

  He smiled and his hands fluttered ineffectively. Very gently and carefully, Cassandra enfolded Ith’s frail body in her loving embrace. She sensed energy draining from her body into his and she held tighter to ensure that he received every last drop, glad that he was taking it willingly from her. She was about to let go when she felt an immense, dizzying rush. Too late, she realised what Ith had done. She had known the feeling only once before: this evening inside the ring of fire. Ith’s quiddity had transferred to her! When she had absorbed Lorcan’s quiddity, a flood of wisdom had drenched her brain. Ith had lived eight hundred years longer than Lorcan. What she felt now was akin to a dam bursting. It was overwhelming. She abruptly broke the embrace and staggered backwards, feeling nauseous. But it was already too late. The transfer had been instantaneous.

  What had she done?

  She lunged back towards Ith and grabbed his shoulders to shake him, but a gentle hand caught hold of her arm.

  ‘He’s gone,’ Iznaya said.

  ‘But you can revive him.’ Why weren’t they desperately trying to bring him back? At least they should try. Zabeth hadn’t even moved from her chair, but a tear trickled down her cheek.