Chapter 13: A Song in the Night

The Obsidian Fortress was silent, the kind of silence that felt thick, wrapping around the halls like an unseen mist. Cassia lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, but sleep refused to come. The day had been overwhelming—the journey, the grandeur of Kadia, the Emperor's warmth, and Lucius's shocking revelation.

Guild Master of the Golden Concord.

She turned on her side, frowning. How had he kept such a thing from her? And why did it bother her so much?

With a frustrated sigh, she slipped out of bed. Maybe a walk would help clear her thoughts.

As she moved down the dimly lit corridor, the flickering lanterns cast long shadows on the cold stone. The silence was soothing—until she noticed a faint glow spilling from an open doorway.

Cassia hesitated, then peeked inside.

Lucius sat at the edge of his bed, his tunic undone, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. He was struggling to wrap a bandage around his side, his movements precise yet hindered by pain. Blood stained the cloth, seeping through the crude attempt at dressing the wound.

Something in her chest tightened.

Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and pushed the door open.

"You're terrible at this," she said.

Lucius glanced up, startled for the briefest moment before his lips curled into an amused smirk. "I don't recall asking for help."

Cassia crossed her arms. "And yet, here I am."

Lucius exhaled through his nose, but he didn't argue.

She moved closer, taking the cloth and salve from his hands. He didn't resist, only watching her with that same unreadable expression.

As she dabbed at the wound, he barely flinched. But she felt the tension in his body—the way his muscles coiled beneath her touch.

And suddenly, the air between them felt different.

To distract herself from the way her hands trembled, Cassia hummed softly—a melody she had known since childhood.

Lucius stilled.

Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, but the tune carried through the quiet room like a whispered lullaby. There was something mesmerizing about the way the notes lilted, wrapping around them like an invisible thread.

"You sing," he murmured.

Cassia blinked, suddenly self-conscious. "I—yes, I suppose I do."

Lucius's gaze darkened, something almost reverent in his expression. "It's beautiful."

She felt warmth crawl up her neck. "It's just an old song."

"That doesn't make it any less enchanting."

Cassia busied herself tying the bandage, trying to ignore the way his words made her heart stumble. "You're good at this," Lucius noted.

"I've had practice," she admitted.

"With your uncle?"

She hesitated. "Yes… but also at the orphanage."

Lucius didn't speak for a moment. Then, with surprising softness, he said, "You're kind, Cassia."

Her breath caught.

No one had ever told her that before.

She looked up at him, and for the first time, truly saw him—not as the unreadable, calculating merchant, but as a man who carried his own burdens. A man who, despite his sharp words and distant demeanor, had moments of warmth beneath it all.

She found herself lingering, eyes tracing the angles of his face—the way the candlelight cast golden hues into his irises, the way his lips parted as if he, too, felt the weight of this moment.

Her heart pounded.

Why does he affect me like this?

She swallowed, suddenly unsettled by the intensity of her thoughts.

Cassia's hands trembled slightly as she finished securing the bandage. She needed to leave. Now.

She stepped back, but just as she did, Dorian and Castor walked in without warning.

"Ah," Dorian smirked. "Are we interrupting?"

Castor arched an eyebrow. "This is becoming a pattern, isn't it?"

Cassia's eyes widened in horror. Not again.

Lucius sighed deeply. "Do you two ever knock?"

Dorian leaned against the doorframe, grinning. "We could ask Cassia the same thing."

Cassia's face flamed. That's it. I'm leaving.

Without another word, she bolted from the room, practically running back to her own.

Once inside, she slammed the door shut and pressed her back against it, her breath unsteady.

Her hands went to her chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart.

Why?

Why did Lucius unsettle her so much? Why did he make her feel like she was standing on the edge of something dangerous—something she wasn't sure she could escape?

I shouldn't feel this way about him.

Her fingers curled into her nightgown as another thought slipped into her mind—Prince Valerian.

The memory surfaced unbidden, pulling her back to a time when she was just a child.

She had been only seven years old when she first met him.

The Celestial Palace of Astraea had been overwhelming, a place of marble columns and golden tapestries, of whispering courtiers and bowing attendants.

She had wandered too far from Uncle Marcus and stumbled into a garden.

And there, beneath the shade of the Amaryllis Tree, sat a boy—silver-eyed, alone, and solemn.

"Why are you sitting here by yourself?" she had asked.

The boy had looked up, startled. Then, after a pause, he had murmured, "Because I have no one to play with."

Cassia had frowned. "That's stupid. Play with me."

And just like that, they had spent the afternoon running through the gardens, laughing as they chased fireflies.

When the sun began to set, the boy had taken her hand, his silver eyes serious.

"Then I'll marry you, Cassia. Because you're my only friend."

She had giggled at the time, not understanding the weight of his words.

But now…

Cassia clenched her fingers against her chest.

Prince Valerian had been her first friend. And she had promised—no, he had promised—that one day they would wed.

And yet, Lucius made her heart race in ways she couldn't explain.

She closed her eyes, trying to still the storm inside her.

What am I supposed to do?

For the first time in her life, she wasn't sure where her heart belonged.

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