Chapter 26
When Cassian finished, Adelaide’s chest suddenly felt tight.
It all made sense in a way she had so desperately wanted. He had been rebellious before, desperate to make his own way in the world, and it had ended in tragedy.
And yet, now that she understood the truth, it was almost unbearable.
She thought of the boy he must have been, terrified and frozen, the fire roaring around him, his father trapped, his mother pleading.
He had carried the burden of his father’s death all that time, and even then, he had thought he was culpable.
“I never would have thought…” she trailed off.
“I know you saw my mother’s scars,” he rasped. “You knew that something had happened.”
“I knew from the moment I saw the charred walls outside. The day we arrived here, I knew that something had happened, but I never expected it to have been so…”
“Tragic?”
“I-I suppose, yes.”
“That is what they all called it. A tragedy, or an accident. I hated that even more than when they accused me of starting the fire. I at least knew that I did not start it.”
“You were not to blame for any of it!”
“But I was. And you know what? I prefer it that way. It is better for my father to have died by my hand than some freak accident. A great man like him could not have been taken away by something so simple as a fire.”
He was deep in denial, but he was in no mood to be corrected either. Adelaide wanted to comfort him, and she wished she knew how.
“And you have always carried all of that alone,” she said instead.
Cassian looked up from the floor, his expression unreadable. “I did what was necessary. It is better that we all believe it was me.”
“Is it?” she challenged softly, taking a tentative step closer.
“What you did was not necessary. You were brave in accepting the blame, but it is not your fault that everyone else misunderstood. They blamed you for things that were not your fault, yet you survived it. You did what you had to do, and you cannot be blamed for that.”
He shifted slightly, as though her words were too much, and his jaw tightened. “I do not need your pity,” he gritted out.
“It is not pity,” she insisted, her hands clenching at her sides. “It is recognition. Seeing what you endured and what you survived, it is extraordinary that you are even half the man you are today.”
Cassian’s shoulders stiffened, and she saw it, the wall that slammed up when he decided that she had come too close.
“Recognition changes nothing,” he said quietly. “The past is the past, and there is no changing it. It need not be dwelled on.”
“I am not the one dwelling,” she pointed out, frustration creeping into her voice, even though she knew it was best to remain calm. “I just—I needed to understand. I needed to see the truth of who you are, what you’ve endured. And now I do.”
“And now you do. Are you satisfied?”
“Do not say it like that. You make me seem like the villain.”
He ran a hand through his hair, and she caught a glimpse of his true feelings. Then he stepped back, just enough to put distance between them, and he hardened once again.
“I should not have shared this,” he muttered. “It was not meant for you, Adelaide.”
Her chest tightened, a pang of helplessness that she had felt each time he closed himself off. She was his wife, and even if he did not love her, she deserved to know the truth.
“I am not here to judge you,” she whispered.
Cassian’s eyes darkened for a moment, and then he looked away.
Before she could say anything more, he turned and left the hall, leaving her with an ache in her chest. It did not matter that she knew the truth, nor that she wanted to help him. He did not want any of it, and there was no changing that.
For the first time in a long while, she struggled to sleep that night.
The following morning, the sun felt like it was burning her. As she went down for breakfast, she paused at the charred threshold of the west wing. Her pulse quickened, knowing that she was forbidden from entering it. But knowing what she did now, she could not help but be drawn to it.
She quickly looked around to make sure that nobody was watching. If she was going to do it, it had to be now, or else she would never be able to venture here again.
She stepped inside, the floor crunching beneath her shoes.
It smelled like smoke despite the years that had passed.
Broken beams leaned precariously, their blackened edges stark in the sunlight.
Scorched portraits hung askew on the walls, their frames peeling.
She ran her fingers over one, hesitating where the wood had cracked and splintered.
It was impossible to know who was in the portrait.
She lingered before a half-collapsed window, sunlight falling across the blackened floorboards.
A shiver ran through her as she realized that she had crossed into more than just a room. She had entered a part of Cassian’s life that no one else had touched, one that she had promised not to intrude on.
At last, she truly understood the distance he kept, the composure he displayed, and the walls he had built.
“Adelaide.” His voice was sharp, controlled, but threaded with disbelief.
She whirled around, startled, a flush rising to her cheeks. She knew that she should not be there, but she had not planned to stay long. She only wanted to understand.
“Cassian, I—”
“You were explicitly told not to enter this wing.”
His gaze swept over her, lingering on the way she stepped lightly on the ash-covered floorboards. She wanted to disappear, to go anywhere else where she would not have to see the betrayal in his eyes.
“I forbade it for a reason.”
“I know,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “But I had to see it.”
“You had to see it?” he echoed incredulously. “This is not a curiosity for you to satisfy. This is—”
He faltered as he looked around the wing, then composed himself. Adelaide realized then that it could well have been the first time in years that he had set foot in there.
“This is a part of my life that is not yours to explore. And certainly not without my permission.”
Adelaide took a step closer, undeterred. “I had to see it, Cassian. You know that I would never do anything to offend you, but I had to see it. I have a right to explore my own home.”
“Do you think that justifies disobedience?” His voice rose. “Do you have any idea what could have happened if the floorboards had given way? If—it does not matter. I told you not to come here. That was not an invitation to push me.”
“I was careful,” she insisted, her frustration flaring, even though she knew she was at fault. “I did not touch anything important.”
“You did not touch anything important?”
His laugh was bitter, harsh. She had never heard such a sound come from him, but then she had never done anything like this before.
“You were in a ruin that still smells of smoke and ash, a ruin that holds the memory of my father’s death. That may not be important to you, but it means everything to me, and now it is no longer his final resting place. It is a place you decided was yours to explore.”
Adelaide’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “I am your wife. I care about you. Do you not want me to understand the man I married?”
“Wanting to understand does not give you the right to intrude. Some things are not up for discussion, and this is one of them. I could not have been clearer about that.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” she demanded, her voice rising in desperation. “Stand aside while you hide from your past? Stand back while you bear it alone, like you always have?”
“I bear it alone because it is mine to bear. Because no one else can shoulder it, and because no one else would understand the weight.”
“I am trying to understand!” she cried. “I am trying, Cassian!”
“You are trying too hard. Curiosity is not compassion. You are stepping into a place that will only hurt you and me. I warned you. I forbade you.”
“And yet here I am.”
“Because you believe you have the right.”
“Because I cannot watch from a distance while you remain stuck here after all these years. I will not stand by and let you choose to suffer, when you should have begun to heal long ago.”
Cassian faltered for a moment, the fury in his eyes flickering out. She wondered what he was thinking, aside from the many awful things he likely thought of her at that moment.
Then he straightened, stepping back. There was nothing on his face anymore that she could discern, and that frightened her more than his anger ever could.
“You have crossed a line,” he said, his voice low but firm.
“You have ignored the one rule I needed you to adhere to. If you want to know why I never told you what happened, it is because I knew you would do this. In giving you something small, you expected more. It is clear to me now that that will not change. You will always want more from me.”
Her chest ached at the finality in his tone, but she did not retreat.
“I will not ignore it,” she declared firmly. “I will not pretend that I do not see your scars, nor that I know your history. You cannot shut me out forever.”
“Is that truly what you think?”
“I know it to be true. It does not matter how much you try; you and I both know that you want to let me in. You can fight it all you want, but it is the truth.”
Cassian’s eyes darkened. For a long moment, he did not respond. Then, with a controlled breath, he turned and walked away.
“Cassian?” she called.
“Leave this wing whenever you please. If you know best, then so be it.”
“Cassian—”
“No, you seem to know me better than I know myself. If I am going to give in eventually, then you need not concern yourself with me. I will come to you when I decide to. Doesn’t that make sense?”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
But he kept walking, leaving her in a hallway that smelled like smoke and death.
She no longer wanted to be there. She wished she had never set foot in there, but she had, and she could not have regrets. He could not conceal it from her forever.
Even so, Adelaide hurried after him, her heart pounding and her skirts brushing against the steps as she left the wing. She caught sight of him in the hall, already moving toward the front of the house.
“Cassian!” she called again, quickening her pace. “Do not walk away from me! It does not matter that you are angry with me. I do not deserve it.”
He did not turn.
She reached the bottom of the main staircase just as he stopped near the front door.
“It does not matter how I feel.” He laughed coldly. “As if I did not already know that.”
“Where are you going?” she demanded, trying to catch her breath.
He finally glanced at her, his eyes sharp. “I am leaving. Business requires my attention for the next three days.”
Her stomach sank. She knew that she was wrong and that he was angry with her, but she had not expected that he would leave her.
She did not think she deserved that.
“Three days? My friends are due to arrive within the week. What of that?”
“I will be back in time for their visit,” he said curtly, before turning to the nearest footman. “Prepare the carriage. I wish to leave immediately.”
Adelaide felt a pang of helplessness as he yanked the door open and stepped outside. The carriage arrived, its steps were lowered, and he walked toward it. She reached out as if to stop him, but he ignored her, his attention fixed on the preparations.
“So you are leaving?” she asked, her voice tight.
“Yes,” he said simply. “I have matters to attend to. Three days. That is all you need to know.”
Before she could protest again, he climbed into the carriage. The footman closed the door after him, and the vehicle lurched forward, wheels crunching over the gravel.
Adelaide remained on the front steps long after the carriage had disappeared from view. Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her, followed by a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Try not to worry,” Iris soothed. “I told you, the fault was his. You need not blame yourself; it is who he is.”