Lachesis won't pull my thread. Is that what she promised Kassam? I don't remember the wording, but she did promise not to pull me early. Maybe she's getting back at Seth for leaving me here.
Fucking Seth. I turn my hostile glare toward him. "You betrayed us!"
"No, you little fool." He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose as if a headache is forming. "I betrayed you, not him. Him, I'm trying to help. You think we can waltz in, as powerless as we are like this, and conquer anything? We're little better than mortals right now." He gestures at me. "If you die, Kassam returns to his full glory, since you're the only thing holding him back. Then, we'd have the full force of the nature god on our side…but Lachesis has decided to send me one last 'fuck you.'" He shakes his head, as if he's the injured party here. "Try and soothe his anger when he comes back. He'll need me if he wants to take down Riekki. Only together can we hope to bring down any sort of army she has created."
With that, he leaves the room, abandoning me.
I make a wordless sound, still beyond stunned at what just happened.
Seth killed me. Or tried to, except I didn't die. All because he wants Kassam back at his full powers, and he figures I won't be missed. I'm just the mortal part of the equation. The expendable part. And I have no idea how to stop a mortal wound from bleeding, or even what I do now that I'm…what, a zombie?
I don't know what I am. I put a finger to my wrist, feeling for my pulse, but it's not there. I feel at my neck for the same, too, and I can't find anything. Doesn't mean shit, I remind myself. You're not a nurse. You probably couldn't find it anyhow. There's too much blood everywhere, maybe. Gingerly, I get to my feet and find a fresh towel to push against the wound on my chest, and then wince at the sight of my gore-covered skin in the mirror. I pour a bit of water into the washbasin, my hands trembling, and I try to scrub at my face with one hand, the other holding the towel to my wound.
What happens when I run out of blood? Can my wound get infected? What happens to me if Lachesis changes her mind and just yanks my thread after all? I'm shaking as I wipe at my hands, feeling very alone and terrified. Kassam said he wanted to ask the Fates to keep me at his side—does this change things if I'm the walking dead? But…maybe I'm not dead. Maybe he missed my heart and I'm fine. I glance down at the bright red water basin in front of me and then back at the bed.
No way. There's far too much blood. No one can live after losing that much blood.
Numb, I clutch the towel to my chest and move to the bed once more. It's a mess, so I sink into one of the chairs nearby, dazed. My head gets foggy—probably blood loss—and I lose track of how long I sit in the chair. I try to think things through. Kassam—how is he going to take this? Is he going to be mad that he was betrayed? Is Seth right that we still need him to go forward? I worry that he's right. I don't know Riekki or anything about her except what Kassam has told me, but if she was strong enough to imprison him for a thousand years, how strong is she now that she's had that millennium to get even stronger?
And what happens to me now? Is my body going to rot and I'm stuck in it? I'm horrified at the thought, but I don't know what to do. Lachesis promised Kassam she wouldn't touch me, and I don't think we thought that promise through. Seth certainly didn't.
The door to our suite opens and Kassam enters in a flourish, holding a bottle of wine. "Little light! I brought you a present—"
I watch him as he chokes on the words, as his gaze slides from the bloody bed to where I sit on the chair a few paces away, equally bloody towel clutched to my chest.
"No," he breathes, tossing aside the wine. It falls to the floor with a crash, spilling its contents on the stone. Kassam doesn't even look. He drops to his knees at my side, horror in his gaze. Gently, he touches my cheek even as his gaze moves over my body. "No, no. Carly, my light. Don't leave me."
"I…don't think I can," I manage, and a watery, horrible giggle escapes me.
With delicate fingers, he peels the towel from my chest and makes a ragged sound of agony at the sight of the wound between my breasts. "Who did this to you."
I think about Seth's words. About how Kassam needs him if he wants his vengeance, if he wants to be free of Riekki. I clutch at his hand. "I don't think I can die, Kassam. I…I should be dead but I'm not. I think Lachesis won't pull my thread." I squeeze his hand, my body still feeling curiously floaty. "What happens if she doesn't pull my thread?"
"I do not know, my heart. The thread is pulled by the Fates, but it is Death who receives the spirit. I do not know what happens when one conflicts with another." The look he gives me is anguished. "Are you…in pain?"
I shake my head. "I feel strange," I whisper. "But it doesn't hurt."
"What can I do?" He takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my palm. "How can I help?"
I lick my dry lips, and my entire mouth feels like a desert, actually. "Can you help me wash the blood off?"
He gazes down at me, and Kassam suddenly looks furious as he scoops me into his arms and carries me across the room. "I am going to clean you," he states in an icy voice. "And I am going to take care of you. I will never leave your side again. It is my fault this happened. I should have known someone would try to take you from me. I should have known that they would grow jealous of my anchor and seek to return me to the heavens. They think they are helping, but you are my wife." His voice grows more ragged by the moment. "It destroys me to think of you being hurt."
Oh so carefully, he sets me down in the beaten copper tub, and when a fresh stream of blood rolls out of my chest, he flinches, his eyes tormented. "I'm okay," I manage. His pain is tearing me apart. It actually hurts more to see him so upset than my wound does. "Really."
"You are not okay," he growls back, even as he tenderly pours water over my shoulder. "I let this happen to you. I am your husband and I promised before the gods—before your mother—that I would watch over you and keep you safe. I have failed you." His eyes widen and he looks around. "Where are the conmac?"
Is he looking for someone to blame? The thought makes me tired. I know Kassam doesn't like dealing with his feelings. "You sent them away earlier, remember? When we were in bed together."
He looks stricken. "I did not call them back." He clenches the water jug in his hand, his jaw working silently. "I hate this. I hate all of this, Carly."
"It's not my favorite either," I point out. "But it's done. Just help me clean up, all right?"
Kassam makes another unhappy sound, but he helps me wash up, avoiding the wound in the center of my chest. I'm not sure what to do with it either, but it keeps bleeding. When he takes a fresh hand towel and places it over it, I shove it inside the gash and then laugh hysterically as tears bubble up.
"Please don't cry, little light," Kassam whispers, brushing a finger over my cheek. "I hate the anger I am feeling, and the grief, but more than anything, I hate the way it feels when you are sad. Please don't." He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek and then just wraps himself around me, hugging me. "We will figure this out. It changes nothing. We will still go to the gods and ask them to leave you at my side, always. You are still my wife and my anchor. Do you hear me? This changes nothing."