The day is nothing short of exhausting. Hours of grueling legal arguments, case studies, and endless writing leave me drained. By the time I get home, all I want to do is collapse into my bed and sleep. But peace is a luxury I rarely have in this palace.
Just as I sink into my pillows, the door swings open, and Cassian strides in, his face clouded with seriousness.
"Celeste," his voice is firm. "Queen Mother complained that you ordered your guards to beat up her staff. Did you do that?"
I blink, momentarily stunned. Shea said that? Or is the queen just stirring up more trouble for me?
I scoff, rolling my eyes. "I didn't order anyone to beat her up," I say flatly. "The girl saw me and walked right past without greeting me. Esther was there, she can tell you what happened. Before I could say anything, a guard stepped in and demanded she greet me properly. She did, but not without attitude."
Cassian frowns, his jaw tightening. "Why would she ignore you? A mere maid?"
I shake my head. "That's what I found strange too. I've never had any real interaction with her before."
He exhales sharply, his expression darkening. "I'll talk to my mother and get to the bottom of this. Don't stress over it."
With that, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. The tension in my shoulders eases, and I relax against him.
I watch as he walks out of my chambers, debating whether to tell him about the suspicions surrounding Shea. But I decide against it. It's just gossip. And Cassian and I don't waste our time on baseless rumours.
For now, I need to focus on my exams. But something tells me this isn't the last I'll hear of Shea.
***
I'm deep into my law books, flipping through pages and jotting down notes when the door creaks open. Cassian walks in, his presence instantly pulling me out of my study trance.
"How's it going, my love? You mind taking a break?" His voice is warm, teasing.
I smile, pushing my books aside as I stand. "My husband wants me?"
He steps closer, wrapping his arms around me. "I always want your attention."
We hold each other, our gazes drifting to the large portrait hanging on the far wall - the portrait of King Lucien, Cassian's late father, the legendary Judge King.
"I want to be like him," I say, my fingers brushing the edge of the frame. "A ruler of justice."
Cassian arches a brow, turning to face the portrait. "Are you sure? You won't be boring?"
I laugh. "I won't. It's my biggest dream."
He doesn't respond immediately. His silence makes me glance at him. His jaw is tight, his expression unreadable.
"What was it like having him as a father?" I ask.
Cassian's hands drop from my waist, and he moves to my chair, sinking into it.
"He was strict. A disciplinarian. Straightforward to a fault." His voice is distant, his mind clearly elsewhere.
I study him for a moment, choosing my next words carefully. "When did he pass?"
"Five years ago," he says simply.
A strange sadness creeps into my chest. "What happened? Was he sick?"
Cassian exhales, running a hand through his hair. "He suddenly fell ill. His doctor; the best in Matica, couldn't find the cause, nor a cure. Then he died. Just like that."
A shiver runs down my spine. That doesn't sound right.
"I can only imagine the grief," I murmur, sensing there's more to the story than he's saying.
We stand in silence, both of us staring at the portrait as if it might answer the unspoken questions hanging between us.
After a moment, Cassian clears his throat and stands. "I came to tell you I'll be in town for a couple of days. I have business to handle."
I blink. "Oh."
This is the first time we'll be apart since our second marriage. A strange feeling twists in my stomach, but I force a smile.
"It's fine. I'll miss you," I say, wrapping my arms around him.
"It's just two days," he reassures me, kissing my forehead. But something about the way he says it makes me wonder; what kind of business is taking him away?
That night, I lie in bed, staring at the empty space beside me. The sheets are untouched, still carrying Cassian's faint scent. It's the first time we've been apart since our second marriage, and though I told myself I'd be fine, I can't shake the strange loneliness creeping into my chest.
I roll onto my side, pressing my face into his pillow, inhaling the comforting trace of him. Just two days. He said it so easily, but I can't stop my mind from wondering; what kind of business is taking him away?
Just as I close my eyes, something unusual catches my attention.
Footsteps.
Close.
Too close.
My heart skips a beat.
I hold my breath, listening. At first, I think I'm imagining it. But then I hear it again; soft, careful steps moving outside my window.
Then a whisper.
Low. Murmured. Unclear.
I jolt upright, my pulse slamming in my ears. My bedroom is on the upper floor, far from the main corridors, with guards stationed outside. Who would be creeping around here at this hour?
I swallow hard, my body tense as I slowly slip out of bed, my bare feet barely making a sound against the cold marble floor. I inch toward the window, pressing my back against the wall, straining to hear.
Another whisper.
A second voice.
Then …silence.
A heavy, deafening silence that makes my skin crawl.
I reach for the dagger hidden beneath my bedside table. My fingers close around the hilt just as something outside scrapes against the window frame.
I freeze.
A shadow moves against the moonlight.
Then, a sharp knock at the window.
I gasp, stumbling back as my heart pounds violently in my chest.
Who's out there?