Chapter Thirty One
Cassara moved quickly through the halls of the training wing, boots ringing against stone as she hurried toward practice.
Spireglass rested easy across her shoulders now—less weapon, more extension of self.
She was late, and Gideon would have something to say about it, but she hadn’t rushed breakfast. Not when students were still stopping her in the dining hall to congratulate her.
She was rounding the corner when a hand shot out from the shadows, catching her wrist in an iron hold.
She spun, breath catching.
Julian.
Before she could pull away, he dragged her into the alcove, twisting her around so that her back hit the wall while his body moved to pin hers in place.
She tried to jerk her wrist free, but he didn’t loosen his hold. “Julian. This is really getting old. I’m already late.”
“For practice?” His voice was low, his thumb brushing idly over her pulse like he was counting the beats for himself. “Or for another private celebration with your dear captain?”
Cassara went still.
“Tell me,” he murmured, “did Gideon earn your loyalty in the training yard—or somewhere… quieter?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
But even as she snapped at him, she saw the suspicion in his eyes. It wasn’t just jealousy anymore.
“You’ve changed since the gala,” he said, his free hand planting against the wall beside her head. “The way you walk. The way you carry yourself. That look in your eyes. Confidence, yes… but more than that. There’s a softness in you now and I’d bet good money it has something to do with Delvanir.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Am I? You look like a girl who’s been thoroughly ruined.”
Heat surged to her cheeks, not embarrassment, but fury. She shoved at his chest. He didn’t budge.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being realistic.” His grip tightened. “I saw the way he touched you. The way you looked at him after the match. You think I don’t know what happened after you slipped away from the party?”
“No one—”
“No one’s claimed you?” His smile turned cruel.
“We played this game last time, Cassara. From where I’m standing, it looks like Gideon has already had his way with you on several occasions.
I wonder what your father would think. An Allencourt heir, tangled up with a Delvanir. All it would take is a single letter.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You think so?” His thumb stroked her wrist again.
“Your father already doubts your priorities. Imagine what he’d say if he knew you were whoring yourself out to a disgraced bloodline.
That glow of yours? It’ll fade fast once the wrong person sees the wrong kind of closeness.
The kind that violates conduct codes. The kind fathers and headmistresses don’t take kindly to. ”
She shoved at him again. “You manipulative bastard—”
“Come now, Cassara,” he cut her off. “We both know this was never about affection. This was about control. Yours slipping, mine tightening. And from where I’m standing, you’ve been very… uncontrolled lately.”
“Tell me,” he breathed, leaning closer, “was he good to you? Did he make you feel special? Safe? Was it worth it?”
She bared her teeth. “I told you there is nothing to tell.”
“Then prove it.” His hand left the wall to cup her face, fingers digging in with just enough pressure to border on painful. “Kiss me. Right here, right now. Remind me who you belong to.”
Revulsion twisted through her gut. The thought of Julian’s mouth on hers after what he’d done, what he’d tried to do.
“No.”
A dangerous gleam flared in Julian’s eyes. “No?” His voice sharpened. “You still think you get to say no to me? I am inevitable. The contract is signed. The decision has been made. You can keep playing pretend, but in the end, you’ll belong to me.”
“Go fuck yourself, Julian,” she said.
His smile vanished. The hand at her jaw squeezed, and his other rose—fist or palm, she couldn't tell. His voice dropped to something lethal. "You're going to regret—"
“Cassara.”
Gideon stood at the end of the hall, framed by shadows, posture rigid. No instructors. No students. Just intent.
“You’re going to be late,” he said, but his attention was fixed on Julian with predatory focus.
Julian didn’t release her, didn’t step back. “We were just having a conversation about old times. Weren’t we, dearheart?”
The endearment made Cassara’s skin crawl, but it was the possessive way Julian said it, like a claim, or a warning, that made Gideon grit his teeth. “Nevertheless, let her go.”
Julian’s grip stayed fixed, but something in his shoulders twitched. His smile returned, ugly at the edges. “Why? Afraid she might remember where she comes from?”
“Julian,” she warned. Still, he ignored her.
“What exactly do you think you can offer her, Delvanir?” Julian’s voice dripped venom.
“A tarnished name? A ruined house? Nothing but scraps from your father’s failures?
Cassara is promised to me. That’s not something you can charm your way around with gallant little stares and battlefield speeches. ”
Gideon didn’t rise to it. He only extended his hand toward her. “The rest of the team is waiting.”
Cassara hesitated only a moment, but it was long enough for Julian’s fingers to clamp down harder than before, fingers digging into flesh and bone with unbridled malice.
“We’re not finished,” Julian hissed. “She stays with me.”
“Is that so?” Gideon said with a low laugh. He slowly began rolling up his sleeves. “You know, Tremaine. The last time you ran your mouth, there were instructors watching. You really want to try again without an audience?”
Julian’s jaw flexed but his grip didn’t ease.
Gideon moved closer until he stood inches away. “No one’s watching now.”
Julian faltered, only slightly. “Touch me, and I’ll file a report so fast—”
“You already did, didn’t you?” Gideon’s voice didn’t rise, didn’t crack. “Implied she violated code. Suggested something improper. All very careful, very clean. But I wonder, did you think that would protect you from me?”
Cassara could feel the shift. The cold burn of Gideon’s fury, it wasn’t explosive—which made it that much more frightening.
Julian sneered. “I’m a Tremaine. You so much as bruise me, and your family sinks permanently. You don’t have the weight to make threats.”
“I’m not making a threat.” Gideon’s eyes never left Julian’s face. “I’m making a promise. Let her go—or I will make sure the next time you touch her, it’s with a broken hand.”
Julian held his stare for a moment before his grip slowly loosened, his fingers sliding away from her wrist with deliberate reluctance, like he was savoring every last moment of contact. Cassara jerked away from him, her wrist throbbing, angry red marks already beginning to surface.
Gideon’s hand was there before she even looked up, steady and waiting.
She hesitated, pride warring with the sick twist in her stomach, but her fingers found his, and the moment they touched, the tremble in her spine steadied. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t speak, just held her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But Gideon’s expression darkened as his eyes focused on her wrist and the marks Julian had left behind. “You bastard,” Gideon breathed, his voice deadly quiet.
Julian straightened his jacket with casual arrogance, smoothing down the fabric like nothing had happened. “Careful, Delvanir. Your feelings are showing.”
He moved to brush past them, but paused just close enough that his words would carry. “Don’t worry, Cassara,” he said. “Once we’re properly married, I’ll make sure to leave marks where no one else can see—”
Gideon moved before the words finished leaving Julian’s mouth.
His fist collided with Julian’s jaw in a sharp, brutal arc, the crack of bone on bone echoing off the corridor walls.
Julian staggered, teeth bared in shock, and immediately retaliated with a hook to Gideon’s ribs, fast and practiced.
He didn’t waste time with insults, Julian wasn’t the type to scream, just the type to aim for damage.
They crashed together in a tangle of fists and fury. Julian might have preferred psychological warfare, but his body moved with the fluid precision of someone who’d been trained to fight from childhood. His fist found Gideon’s mouth; Gideon’s knee drove toward Julian’s stomach in return.
“Stop!” Cassara shouted, but they were beyond hearing her.
“You think this changes anything?” Julian hissed between clenched teeth as they locked arms. “She’ll wear my name. She’ll bear my mark. And every time she tries to run, I’ll be there to remind her of who she belongs to.”
“You won’t get the chance,” Gideon growled, and this time, when his fist connected, it split Julian’s lip.
“Stop!” Rett’s voice boomed, his arms hauling both men apart with a force that rocked all three of them. Gideon’s chest heaved, blood on his knuckles, jaw tight. Julian shook off Rett’s grip, spitting red onto the floor as he adjusted his collar.
Liri skidded in next, eyes wide. “What’s going on? Cass, are you—are you okay?”
She nodded, swallowing thickly. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Liri’s eyes flicked to her wrist and the bruises blooming there. Her whole expression hardened. “You don’t look fine.”
Oliver emerged from behind them, crossbow in hand though he lowered it when he realized the threat was internal. “Are you insane? Fighting in the corridors where anyone could see?”
More footsteps, and then Verena rounded the corner, her expression shifting from confusion to fury as she took in the scene. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”
“You might want to ask your captain why he’s so eager to throw punches over someone else’s fiancée,” Julian spat.
“Get out,” Gideon said, his voice deadly quiet despite Barrett’s restraining hand.
Julian’s smile was all teeth and poison. “Gladly. But Cassara?” His gaze found hers across the group. “This conversation isn’t over. Neither is our engagement. Some things are bigger than schoolyard infatuations and noble gestures.”