Page 52 of Petals for Vicious Secrets

“I didn’t mean that,” Ciaran said, pausing. “I mean that Theon Chloid is not who you think he is. And you would regret donating part of your magic to him for the rest of your life.”

Before Lenna could tell him to fuck off because no one had asked his opinion on her personal relationships and that he could shove the donation information somewhere she had no interest in seeing, Ciaran stood up abruptly.

Half a second later, a sweaty Indianna stormed through the door to the rooftop and started running towards them. Carson, Brendon and Sasha had stopped their game, worry in their frowns.

“What the fuck?” Lenna asked.

Indianna reached their corner, panting. Lenna felt Ciaran lifting an invisible barrier surrounding them, as if he had Given it silence. A way to ensure those curious looks from all the other busy tables minded their own business.

“Catch your breath, girl,” Sasha put a hand on Indianna’s shoulder, her usually immaculate black bob all over the place from the running. And to be in such a state, Lenna had almost no doubt that she probably had run from the other side of Corentre, where her workplace was.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ciaran, and he opened his hand towards her. She inhaled deeply, thanks to the presumably hyper oxygenated air he Gave her.

“Found out,” Indianna managed to say, still panting. “Furious.”

Lenna clenched her jaw with impatience. She knew she was not the only one who didn’t understand anything. Sasha pulled Indianna down onto one couch while Ciaran opened his hand a few more times, allowing her to take some deep breaths.

Indianna’s brown eyes finally focused. On Lenna and Ciaran. She lifted her head to the sky, and she almost looked like she was going to cry. Lenna was going to cry from frustration soon too if this woman didn’t chill and talk.

“Sorry,” Indianna said. “The Organ Mandor brought Raoul to the Beftac Center an hour ago. He ordered us to put him in the highest security medical vault, and to not provide any care until he found out who had brought him back from Verdania after being discarded by panom order. I came as soon as I could leave the unit.”

Lenna felt the floor disappearing from underneath her feet, and thanked the five Cardinals for being sat down already, immediately regretting any thankfulness and damning every single one of them. They were fucked. She looked at Ciaran and saw the concern in his frown, too.

Raoul had been in the West House, cared for by their healers all this time. Lenna knew Ciaran and his father wouldn’t have informed the Organ Mandor of his body’s return to Thyria—because who knew where his mind was—, so this would most definitely be considered treason. Even if they never clarified how Raoul had arrived there, Lenna had a feeling that nothing would convince the Organ Mandor of their innocence.

Ciaran and Cobrian Castel were going to be punished for trying to keep Raoul alive. Every single one of those healers was probably going to be killed, unless the Organ Mandor felt generous and discarded them instead. And why would he feel generous, when a discarded being had returned against his orders, and it had been kept from him?

Lenna felt a sting in her arm at the same time as Ciaran twitched his biological arm. Both looked at their skins simultaneously. She knew that every panom in Thyria had just received Rhei Coralt’s ink. And that every panom would also have felt the pain, because it was not normal ink, Lenna realized with horror. It was bleeding ink.

Lenna tried to wipe the Organ Mandor’s bleeding ink from her arm, but it was not going away, and she was only getting her forearm red all over. She had already tried Taking it from her skin with no success. Next to her, Ciaran was not bothering, the dripping drops of his blood still dry on his arm underneath where the ink read its message.

“It will not go away until we’re there,” he mumbled, as if his mind was somewhere else.

“Good, that the dead of night is minutes away,” she said, standing up to stretch her legs in Ciaran’s living room. The bleeding message could have also read twelve ante meridiem, but that the Organ Mandor had not picked those words was not a mere coincidence. His message had been very clear.

Ciaran had moured all of them from the rooftop to his apartment in Corentre. All of them except Theon, who had been so busy playing with the woman that had missed the commotion Indianna’s sprint had caused in the other tables. And who, by the time Ciaran started mouring them, was nowhere to be seen. Nor did his companion.

Ciaran put his metallic hand over his eyes as he muttered, “Something is very wrong.”

“I agree,” Lenna said. “We’re cardinally fucked.”

Ciaran only shook his head slightly, his silver fingers protecting him from the light in the room, as if he was trying to concentrate.

“I’m pretty sure if we are late to this summoning, it will be five times worse. Shall we go?” she said. Ciaran ignored her, still shaking his head. Lenna wasn’t sure if he had even heard her, so she insisted, “Ciaran Castel, can you moure us to the Cardinals Temple right now, please?”

He finally stood up and placed his hand on the back of her neck. Lenna couldn’t identify the dark glimmer in his eyes. Her best guess would have been extreme dread or extreme worry. She would definitely agree with both.

32

Hope

Marcus walked to the doorway that opened to the rest of the cellholt, where all the courtrades were standing in line.

He walked between both lines, his firm steps not faltering, as he said, “We are less than forty hours from reaching the tunnel underneath Corentre. The tunnel that will take us to the city above the net of vessels, where the Thyrian courtrades will be ready to assist us.”

“But it looks like the roixers have somehow detected that this is a rogue cellholt, and are pushing vessels around to intercept us.” His voice was as sharp as the blades Hope and Aridian had been throwing minutes before. “I do not plan on dying in the middle of a Llunal-damned vessel, nor letting any of you die at their hands, either.”

Hope saw a few courtrades nodding in silence. Marcus continued, “I want everyone of you armed to the teeth with every single weapon you have. I want everyone to put two food rations in your pockets, packs or wherever you deem comfortable. I am going to set up multiple automatized vessel jumps in the living map to mislead them and make them waste as many of these forty hours as possible chasing us. Not us. Chasing an empty cellholt. While we run on foot through the vessels until we reach our destination. And we start running in fifteen minutes.”

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