Tides

CHAPTER 19--Cassin

Cassin sat back in his throne, a raw ache in his chest. He had dismissed the Nobles so he could grieve in peace. The way Valeno had looked at him...As if he truly meant something to the werewolf. More than he had ever meant to anybody in his entire life except for perhaps his family. His look had touched Cassin's soul, a burning tendril of desire that froze over seconds later as Valeno looked away. Shamefaced and full of regret, he had looked away.

And now Cassin grieved.

That look had nearly broken Cassin's heart.

Fuck it. It had broken Cassin's heart. Sent a tumbling crack straight through it, so deep that Cassin thought he would never be whole again. He wondered if Valeno knew. Knew how much he had hurt him.

If he did, he was a coward.

But it didn't matter right now. Right now he had blood oaths to extract.

Cassin ordered a meal and an invitation to be sent up to the tower that Valeno had been staying in. Because even if he had shattered Cassin's heart, he still deserved to see the ones who had tortured him pay. It was only right.

Rising, Cassin swept from the Hall of Thrones, Terok at his heels.

It was time.

 The Hall of the Gods was quiet when Cassin entered, the first to arrive. He headed for the altar, but stopped as a curious song rang in his ears. A song of open plains and running elk. A melody of a patient hunter and a loyal companion.

Cassin stopped at the alcove of Wyrdynn, and looked into the stone bowl where a few drops of blood had splattered, singing up to him. He recognized the blood's scent, too. A scent of musky pine and crisp, biting air. It was Valeno's blood. In the bowl. Of a vampire god. Cassin felt his lip curl. If that coward ever thought he was worthy of Wyrdynn's attention...

Oh well. He would have the blood washed out. Wiped off the face of the sacred stone. As it should be. If Valeno wasn't deserving of Cassin, he certainly wasn't deserving of a god.

The doors creaked farther open and the Nobles entered, each pale face showing their fear. All except for one. Sytharr's emerald eyes blazed in an angry expression, defiance written all over his features. He was going to fight his oath with all his strength and willpower. Lovely.

Behind the altar, the hidden door swung open and the coward entered, bare-chested again.

"Valeno," Cassin said through gritted teeth. It hurt to even look at him. The werewolf gave a nod in Cassin's general direction, gaze bouncing around, never actually landing on Cassin.

Coward.

"Nobles," he acknowledged, a different sort of barb in his tone.

"My King."

Cassin had never seen so many sets of clenched teeth in his life. He bared his fangs in a menacing smile. "We begin. Mythrim, I call on you first."

A desperate sob escaped the Lady of the House of the Silver Lake. "My King, I beg of you. Mercy, I plead mercy."

Too late. Much too late. Should've thought of that sooner. "There is to be as much mercy given to you as was given to my guest."

The Lady sobbed again.

"I have a son!"

"And I have shit to do after this. Get up here!" Cassin barked.

Mythrim stepped up to the altar, slowly, her long gown trailing behind her. It was the same gown she had worn to dinner, black threaded with silver, the bust line a whorl of silver embroidery. A quick slash with the ceremonial knife, and Mythrim's palm ran red, the excess dripping into a glass vial that Cassin held beneath the wound.