The first rays of dawn had barely touched the spires of the Ashenfang Mountains when Cassandra’s eyes fluttered open. It was a habit ingrained by years of discipline, one that persisted even within the relative safety of the Eclipse Castle.
Her first conscious thought, as it often was these mornings, was of the training grounds. A part of her mind, still wrapped in the remnants of sleep, anticipated the familiar sight of a certain young man pushing his limits against the morning chill.
A faint, expectant smile touched her lips before reality reasserted itself.
’Right... He’s not here.’
The memory crystallized with a dull thud in her chest. Amaniel had left for Derier City on family business yesterday. He didn’t come back either.
A sigh escaped her, misting slightly in the cool air of her room. "...I should have gone with him." The murmured thought was out before she could cage it. ’That way, they could have spent more time...’
Her eyes flew wide open.
’Spent more time doing what?’
The unbidden completion of that thought sent a jolt through her. Heat rushed to her cheeks, a warm flush that traveled all the way to the tips of her ears.
She shook her head sharply, as if to dislodge the notion, and buried her face in her hands for a moment.
The image of his focused expression, the way he’d sometimes look at her with that mix of understanding and gentleness, flashed behind her eyelids.
Her fingers curled into tight fists on the silk sheets.
It took several minutes of focused breathing for the flustered feeling to recede. Finally calm, or at least pretending to be, she rose and began her morning routine, the cool water helping to banish the last of the lingering warmth from her face. This update is available on novel⸺fire.net
Dressed and composed, she sat at her desk and summoned her system interface. The familiar golden screens materialized in her vision.
This was a grounding ritual. Numbers, profits, logistics... these were things she could control.
She reviewed yesterday’s earnings from her various ventures, the system instantly calculating margins and projecting trends. A few quick mental commands sent instructions to Little Sara and her temporary manager in the Legacy Emporium.
Just as she finished and was smoothing down her dress, a notification flashed, bright and urgent, at the edge of her visual field.
[Tracking Feature Alert: The target is within close proximity of the host.]
Her heart gave a single, hard thump against her ribs. A reflexive impulse urged her to her feet - to go out, to see him, to confirm his safe return with her own eyes.
But then she hesitated, her hand pausing halfway to the door handle.
Would it seem too eager? Too forward? He had just returned; perhaps he was tired. Perhaps he wanted to see his family first.
A dozen questions and social calculations spun through her mind in a split second, leaving her rooted to the spot, caught between inner desire and propriety.
What was she thinking again? Getting all flustered over a simple notification. He was probably just returning to his own quarters. It wasn’t like he was coming to see her specifically.
Yet, even as this logical thought crossed her mind, her legs seemed to have their own ideas. Almost of their own volition, they carried her out of her room and down the familiar obsidian corridors of the castle.
Before she could properly process her own actions, she found herself standing at the entrance to the bustling castle kitchen.
The head chef, a robust woman named Monaliza, and her assistants noticed her immediately, pausing their work to offer polite bows and greetings.
"Good morning, my lady."
Cassandra waved a hand slightly, her expression cool and composed. "There’s no need for formality. Please, continue with your work."
Monaliza wiped her hands on her apron, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Here to put in an order, my lady? Should we prepare the ’usual’?"
Cassandra found herself nodding almost subconsciously before the words had fully left the chef’s mouth.
Monaliza’s smile widened into a full-blown grin. "We knew it! We already prepared it the moment the young master’s return was announced at the gates." She gestured to one of her assistants, who promptly brought over a neatly packaged lacquered box. The chef winked conspiratorially. "You must love your husband dearly, huh? To be so attentive every day."
Cassandra opened her mouth to offer a deflection, a logical explanation about nutritional balance, or simply fulfilling a duty, but no sound came out.
She simply gave another short, silent nod, turning her face slightly away under the pretense of examining a nearby simmering pot, hoping the steam would account for any hint of color on her cheeks.
Monaliza giggled softly at her reaction. "Sir Lumin is a lucky man to have a wife like you, who cares for him so much."
The assistants nearby nodded in enthusiastic agreement. "You two really match each other!" one of them added.
To her own horror, Cassandra found herself giving a subtle, almost imperceptible nod of agreement. A frantic internal monologue screamed in her mind: ’It’s all for the act! I’m just pretending to be a dutiful wife! This is part of the cover story!’
But the warm, fluttering feeling in her chest stubbornly refused to listen to reason.
"Thank you," she managed to say, her voice thankfully steady as she took the offered box. She offered a final, slightly stiff nod to the kitchen staff. "I will take my leave."
With the box of food held securely in her hands—a tangible, undeniable testament to her actions—she walked out, the kitchen’s cheerful, knowing atmosphere lingering behind her like a ghost, challenging her every attempt to maintain her cool facade.
Her legs carried her forward, following the path her eyes had already charted across the snow-dusted courtyard. She barely registered the bite of the cold morning air, her focus narrowed to the destination that had drawn her there almost magnetically: the town’s infirmary.
Her hands, seemingly operating on their own volition, lifted and knocked on the heavy wooden door before her resolve could waver.
A few moments later, the door swung inward, and a familiar figure filled the doorway. Amaniel looked slightly surprised to see her, his eyes widening a fraction before his expression smoothed into a warm, welcoming smile.
"Oh, good morning, dear," he said, his voice pleasant and light.
But simultaneously, a separate thread of thought brushed against her mind, crisp and clear through their mental link. {Sorry, there are people behind me.}
Cassandra’s own smile was a practiced, graceful curve of her lips, perfectly matching the tone of his spoken words.
"You’re back, dear," she said aloud, her voice carrying a warmth meant for any eavesdropping ears.
Inwardly, her mind was a whirlwind, but she held her composure, the lacquered box feeling both like a shield and a confession in her hands.
"Yes, I’m back," Amaniel nodded, gesturing for her to come in. "Sorry for not telling you. I returned not long ago. I didn’t want to wake you up."
She shook her head, the picture of an understanding wife.
"No, it’s alright. I just wanted to deliver your breakfast to you," she said, her voice soft and demure as she held out the lacquered box.
Amaniel accepted it with both hands, his fingers accidentally brushing against hers for the briefest moment. A spark, real or imagined, seemed to jump between them at the contact.
"T-Thank you, my dear," he said aloud, his smile gentle and appreciative.
Simultaneously, his mental voice added, a private promise meant only for her: {We will talk later.}
Cassandra gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, her eyes meeting his for a heartbeat longer than necessary. {...Alright,} she thought back, the single word carrying a weight of unspoken questions and a flicker of anticipation.
"I’m going back now," she announced to the room, her tone shifting back to a politely distant warmth. "Have a good day at work."
With that, she turned, her robes whispering against the floor, and made her way back out into the cold morning air.
The door closed behind remained open for a bit longer before closing, leaving the warmth of the infirmary and the confusing, thrilling turmoil of her own feelings securely shut inside. The echo of his mental voice, a quiet vow in her mind, was the only thing that followed her home.