God, she thought. I’m covered in stinking mud and we’re both soaking and I just threw up what felt like the bloody Limpopo. He shouldn’t be kissing me …
She kissed him back, wrapping her arms round him, weeping helplessly. What the hell: she was wet already. And so was he.
‘Cassie, for God’s sake. That was insane. Oh God, Cassie, you’re alive. I love you …’
Warmth spread through her chilled body and darkness crept across her brain.
And then she blacked out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A light breeze rippled through the kikuyu grass, smelling of dust and hot sunshine. Invisible in the bright-red flamboyant trees, birds fluted and sang, and a troop of vervet monkeys racketed through the branches, then paused, curious, to watch the mourners below.
Cassie closed her eyes and breathed the scents, glad the memorial service was over. She was glad to have Ranjit on one side, Isabella on the other; it felt as though they were propping her up.
The three of them and Jake drew away from the dispersing crowd as Cassie glanced back at Sir Alric, in quiet conversation with Richard’s parents.
‘That was beautiful,’ she murmured, ‘but … bloody awful.’
‘Darke’s eulogy was pretty good.’ Jake sounded as if he was clutching at straws.
‘I barely recognised Richard in it.’ Cassie’s low laughter was shaky. ‘I don’t think he would’ve, either.’
Ranjit squeezed her hand gently. ‘We should go and speak to his parents.’
‘I know,’ said Cassie bleakly.
Isabella put an arm round her waist. ‘No hurry, Cassie. They’re surrounded at the moment.’
‘Poor Perry,’ said Cassie, nodding at the American boy. He was openly in floods of tears, consoled by the ever-dependable Ayeesha and a slightly embarrassed Cormac. Some of the other Few had already hurried away – Sara and her gang among them – but others were chatting desultorily, reluctant to go back to the Academy building, waiting their turn to speak to the Halton-Joneses. Cassie was surprised and somewhat consoled by the grief shown by so many of the students, Few and non-Few. Maybe Richard, for all his easy charm, had never really known how well liked he was. She wiped her hand across her cheeks, feeling them wet with tears all over again, and Ranjit kissed the side of her head.
‘I’m still amazed he had it in him,’ said Jake quietly. ‘Who’d have thought?’
‘Me,’ said Cassie. ‘I knew it.’
‘So did I,’ said Isabella.
‘I—’ Ranjit swallowed. ‘I didn’t. I wish I had. He was there for Cassie when I wasn’t.’
Coming to a halt, Cassie turned to him and pulled his face down for a kiss. ‘Don’t be daft,’ she said softly.
‘But it’s true.’ He returned her kiss. ‘And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Ever.’
She knew it. She didn’t think she’d ever been more certain of anything. He hadn’t left her side since she’d regained consciousness in her own room at the Academy, and she had it on Isabella’s authority that he hadn’t left her side before then, either. Cassie was still hazy on the details of how they’d got her down from the mountain, rescued Isabella and Sir Alric and recovered Richard’s body. But the details could wait. Of Katerina and Brigitte, of course, there had been no trace but dust. There had been remnants of Marat, but only that: remains. A piece here, a piece there. Cassie shivered at the thought, remembering his face as he was dragged under …
And if it hadn’t been for Richard, it could have been them who were dust, and the Eldest would be free to ravage a whole world.
‘I can’t put it off any longer,’ she murmured. ‘I’m going to speak to Richard’s parents.’
‘I’m right with you.’ Ranjit hugged her.
She smiled. ‘I know.’
Sir Alric was still walking with a limp. Cassie noticed that, and the remaining bruises on his handsome face, as she shook Richard’s father’s hand and withdrew, letting Isabella take over with her own achingly difficult words of sympathy. The headmaster was clearly planning to intercept the four of them when they had spoken to the Halton-Joneses, and Cassie didn’t have the will or the energy to avoid him. Anyway, she’d barely had a chance to talk to him since the events on Mount Kenya. And there was a hell of a lot to discuss.
Halting in front of them, Sir Alric studied them soberly. ‘Cassie. Ranjit.’ He turned to the others. ‘Isabella and Jake. I’d like you to come to my study, please.’
‘Now?’ said Isabella, surprised.
He gave a shrug of his elegant shoulders. ‘I can’t think of a better time. Our conversation is overdue, don’t you think?’
With a glance at Cassie for confirmation, Ranjit nodded. ‘No sense leaving it any longer.’
Cassie gazed around the study shelves. It was as if nothing had changed since the day she’d arrived this term. It had barely changed since Paris, she thought, as the low table caught her eye. She was even sitting in the very same chair: the one she’d sat in as Estelle Azzedine assessed her, not as a student, as Cassie had thought at the time, but as a host.
Even Sir Alric’s world must have been rocked to its foundations by the recent events, but his study remained an unchanging point of stable certainty. It made her smile, ruefully. The books were lined neatly on the shelves; the lamp shone unbroken on the desk. The only object that had been moved was the Urn, which now stood on the desk, the Knife and Pendant laid beside it. The carvings on all three were opaque, glowing only in the normal dappled sunlight streaming through the window, and the creatures were still and unmoving. Cassie’s hand twitched as she recalled how they had twined round it, binding themselves to her, aiming her strike at the heart of the Eldest in Katerina’s body.