Chapter 13
Once emotions enter the equation, logic quietly packs its bags and leaves.
Let me tell you a story of betrayal.
Not my version of it - not the Amanda - fell - into - a - river - and - woke - up - in - a - poorly - written - novel version - but the original story. The one about Cassiane. The real one.
The one who managed to make every possible wrong decision with remarkable consistency and commitment.
Because somewhere along that timeline, after she discovered her overwhelming and deeply questionable dark magic and was exiled for it, she wandered into a forest and came across a wounded boy who had been left there to die. He was barely holding on.
Naturally, instead of walking away like a sensible person and avoiding a future disaster, she used her magic to save him.
The kind of magic the story described with excessive dramatics and absolutely no practical explanation, as though saying dark power surged violently was enough to explain anything.
She healed him with that magic, and when she did, she sensed the power inside him.
It was not ordinary magic, nor was it the kind that came from years of training. It was something deeper and far more dangerous.
Any sensible person would have taken that as a warning.
Cassiane did not.
Instead, she kept him, which in hindsight was less an act of kindness and more the beginning of her downfall.
He stayed with her, grateful that she had saved his life, and eventually began helping her with whatever she needed.
Apparently, in stories like this, saving someone's life naturally leads to long-term companionship, unquestioning loyalty, and an alarming lack of boundaries.
Together, they began setting her plan into motion-the plan that had been doomed from the start.
They hunted, planned, and made repeated attempts to kill the princess. With every failed attempt, Cassiane grew worse. She became more unstable, more desperate, and increasingly consumed by something that had long since stopped being simple revenge.
Eventually, he made his move and kidnapped Lysenne.
During the time they were together in captivity, something unexpected happened.
He had a near-death experience, and Lysenne ended up saving him. That changed something between them.
Spending time together under those circumstances forced them to see each other differently, and over time, they grew closer.
That was the turning point, because instead of remaining loyal, consistent, and predictably dangerous, he changed.
He saw Lysenne's kindness, her composure, and what stories loved to call her true nature, as though basic decency was some kind of irresistible magical force.
Naturally, he fell in love with her.
Caught between his eternal devotion to the princess and his promise to help Cassiane, he ultimately chose the former-or, to be more precise, he chose the safer and significantly less insane option.
He remained by Cassiane's side after that, but not out of loyalty. He stayed to watch her, anticipate her next move, and protect Lysenne from her.
Cassiane either failed to notice the shift or refused to acknowledge it. To her, he was still her partner in crime, the one person she trusted, and the only one who had seen her at her worst and stayed.
He was the person she confided in, the one who listened to her anger, her grief, and every bitter thought she refused to share with anyone else.
Then came the final descent.
By that point, Cassiane had developed a deeply unhealthy obsession with Prince Lucien, and when news spread that Lysenne and Lucien were to be married, she finally decided that the obvious solution was murder.
As one does.
Her magic spiraled out of control, her restraint shattered, and the violence escalated until she nearly killed Lysenne.
He intervened.
He stopped her using his own magic, and in that moment, Cassiane understood everything.
She saw the truth. She saw the distance between them. She saw the choice he had already made.
And worst of all, she saw the betrayal.
She faltered for one fatal second, which was, unfortunately, all Prince Lucien needed to kill her.
And that was the end of Cassiane.
Story over. Moral lesson delivered. Evil defeated. Everyone applauded, presumably.
Very moving.
Personally, I have one very clear opinion about this entire sequence of events: either be evil or be good.
This emotionally confused, devastatingly attractive, morally flexible individual who spends the entire story switching sides at critical moments is deeply inconvenient.
You must be wondering who this "he" is that I've been ranting about.
It is none other than Rhaevan-the same skinny boy I saved from thugs in an alley, gave my food to, and who later snuck into the palace for the sole purpose of asking my name.
And why am I telling you all this?
Because unfortunately-
he is lying unconscious in the next room.
-
It has been two full days, and he has spent all of them peacefully unconscious in the healing room, looking like someone who has absolutely no intention of causing future emotional devastation.
Meanwhile, I have somehow been assigned the responsibility of cleaning his wounds and changing his bandages.
Under normal circumstances, that would have been manageable. Routine, even.
The problem is that these are not normal circumstances.
The first time I helped him, I had no idea who he was.
Now I do, and somehow that makes everything significantly worse.
The only upside is that there is still a chance he will not recognize me when he wakes up. Ideally, I would like to preserve that outcome by being nowhere near him when it happens.
I will deal with that particular headache later.
-
"You have been avoiding the room."
Miss Ann's voice was casual, her eyes were anything but.
I stiffened and answered far too quickly, which, in hindsight, immediately made me look guilty.
"No. No. Who, me? Never. What gave you that idea?"
She narrowed her eyes.
Based on past experience, that expression usually meant she had already seen through all my lies and was merely deciding how much she wanted me to suffer.
"Good," she said simply. "Go check on him."
"Of course," I replied, because resisting authority had apparently never been one of my strengths. As I turned away, I muttered under my breath, "I am absolutely thrilled."
-
Before reaching the room, I had to mentally prepare myself to avoid having an unnecessary anxiety attack.
"This is fine," I muttered under my breath. "Everything is under control. He is unconscious, I am competent, and this is entirely manageable."
With that deeply unconvincing reassurance, I stepped inside and quietly set the materials down.
I had every intention of keeping my eyes strictly on the bandages and absolutely nowhere else.
Unfortunately, I made the mistake of glancing at him.
He was no longer the skinny boy I remembered. Somehow, over the last four years, he had transformed into exactly what the novel had promised: devastatingly handsome in a way that felt almost offensive.
His dark hair now fell to his shoulders, slightly tousled even in unconsciousness, because apparently aesthetics remained a priority even during medical emergencies.
His jawline looked unfairly sculpted, his skin carried a warm tone that made him look annoyingly alive for someone who had nearly died, and he was shirtless because, of course, his injuries had to be on his upper body.
Naturally, this meant I was forced to acknowledge the existence of a very well-built torso, broad shoulders, and absurdly defined abs that suggested he had somehow been unconscious and working out at the same time.
What exactly had happened to him in four years?
To be completely honest, I had secretly had a crush on him while reading the novel, so perhaps my current lack of objectivity was not entirely surprising.
It took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize I was shamelessly staring.
Focus, Cassiane, I told myself.
I forced my attention back to the task and began changing his bandages, concentrating entirely on my work, because at this point, distraction had become my most reliable coping mechanism.
After finishing his treatment, I cleaned the area and got to my feet.
I was just about to leave the room, silently thanking every god willing to listen for granting me this small mercy by keeping him unconscious and, more importantly, blissfully unaware of my existence.
For once, things had gone smoothly.
I was even humming under my breath as I reached the door.
"Cassiane?"
I froze.
So much for divine intervention.