Even two floors below Arabella's chamber, Cassius could still hear Esme's laughter echoing down the stone stairwell— that mirthful ringing laughter echoed with that grating mockery she wore like perfume. It clung to him, needling him with every step the guards forced him to take, as if she wanted him to feel her triumph nipping at his heels.
He rolled his eyes, more irritated than anything, and exhaled slowly through his nose. But his mind didn't stay on Esme for long. No— his thoughts slipped back to Arabella's face in those final seconds before he had bowed and allowed himself to be dragged away. That flicker of anger, then hurt, then something like confusion… and then resolve sharp enough to wound him.
Gods, how he despised this role.
