Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Cassius didn’t question her further. Didn’t call her out on her lie.
Which was fine by her.
As soon as they were back in the castle, Cassius disappeared, leaving her to fend for herself. She managed to find the books Marcus had given her, tucked in a drawer in their shared bedroom.
Thalia scowled as she pulled out the tomes, then shoved them into one of the nightstands by her bed. She’d look into them more later. Perhaps they had some sort of clue about whatever madness the Vampyrs had been discussing. But first she had a letter to write.
Thalia stared at the blank sheet of paper on her writing desk. It wasn’t like correspondence had been forbidden. But she also had no doubt her letters would be read by whatever Vampyr sent them off. Which meant she’d have to be careful of how she worded her message.
Thalia dipped her quill into the ink pot, the point hovering over the page.
She set the pen down.
Thalia couldn’t ever recall a time she’d written to her mother.
Ever. Not even when she’d trekked halfway around Agripa on her mission.
She’d never traveled far when she was a child, certainly never long enough to warrant correspondence.
Thalia didn’t even know how to start a letter to the queen.
Did she address it Mother? Or should it be more formal?
Would the Vampyrs suspect anything if she didn’t know how to write a letter to her own blood and kin?
Your Majesty,
I am pleased to say that I’ve integrated myself quite nicely with the monsters Vampyrs here in House Lorenzia.
I have yet to be introduced to my new husband, as he’s been called away to the north to attend to some damage caused by storms. The courts themselves are terrifying foreboding and no one will tell me shit about anything. But they are for sure hiding something—
Thalia made a face, ripping up the paper before she tossed it aside and grabbing a fresh sheet.
She dipped the quill again, the ink dripping onto the wood of her desk.
Mother,
I hope things are running smoothly in Agripa now that the ore has been provided to our people. I’ve acclimated myself nicely into House Lorenzia. The castle is far more opulent than I was anticipating, as are the courts—
Thalia paused, making a mental note to try to figure out more of the castle layout in the morning.
—although I’ve yet to meet my new husband, as he was called away to the north to deal with a bad storm that hit. I truly am surprised at his willingness and the kindhearted soul my new husband appears to have—
Thalia made a face. Was she saying too much? Would the Vampyrs even send the letter if she mentioned that the prince was away from his court? Should she try risking it anyway?
She crumpled the paper up, staining her fingers with wet ink, before she went back at it again.
Thalia hadn’t realized how long she’d labored over writing the letter until the clock above the fireplace chimed the eleventh hour.
She glanced up, her eyes blurry from staring at the words on the page. They’d begun to jumble together, like a mixed bag of nuts. Thalia sighed, leaning back in her chair, and closed her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose, willing her sudden headache away.
The creaking of her bedchamber door had Thalia lifting her tired head. She didn’t have to turn to know who had just entered.
“Can I help you?” Thalia’s voice dripped with ire.
Cassius eased in, shutting the door behind him. They hadn’t spoken since their outing, which had been hours ago, although it might as well have been days.
“With His Highness still gone, I am still meant to act as proxy.” Cassius finally broke the silence.
Thalia’s lip curled, but she knew it would be useless to fight him. Perhaps at the House meeting, she could call a vote to bypass the proxy laws, if only so she could get away from him and finally sleep in peace.
He glanced at her position at the writing desk, then to the ink dotting the surface like raindrops. “What are you doing?”
Thalia’s jaw ached. “Writing a letter to my mother.”
“And it’s taken you all night?” He gave a pointed look at the still-full tray left by a servant for her dinner, then at the scattered, crumpled-up pieces of paper.
A retort formed on the tip of Thalia’s tongue, but she shoved it aside. “I don’t—I mean, I’ve never written my mother a letter before.”
“I see.”
Thalia glanced at him. He still stood by the door, the top of his doublet unbuttoned to expose the strong column of his throat. She looked away.
“Do you need help?” Cassius asked.
Thalia stiffened, her cheeks heating with embarrassment, but she forced herself to nod. Be nice.
Cassius came up beside her, his presence nearly engulfing her as he picked up her current letter.
She picked at her thumbs as he scanned the contents before reading them out loud. “ ‘Mother, I hope things are well in Agripa. House Lorenzia has welcomed me with open arms, although I have yet to be introduced to my husband, as he is dealing with matters outside his court—’ ”
Cassius paused, and Thalia felt her chest hitch.
But then he continued, “ ‘The courts are all just as glittering and opulent as one would expect. The capital here is also just as beautiful, although I do feel as though I must do more to win the people of Irenbis over—to show them that as their new princess, despite the fact that I am human, I wish the best for both our realms. I cannot blame them for their wariness, though, nor can I blame the courts for their hesitancy in sharing their world with me. I hope to continue to earn the trust of House Lorenzia so I might better aid in the issues that this realm faces. Please give my regards to those in the castle. I hope to continue to make Agripa proud. Yours, Thalia.’ ”
Finally, he handed it back to her. “Why are you worried? It seems fine to me.”
Thalia huffed out a laugh. “Because I don’t know how she’s going to receive it.”
“She’s your mother; she’ll be glad to know you’re safe.”
Or livid that her daughter hadn’t yet taken out the Vampyr courts. But at least Cassius hadn’t seemed wary of any of the information she was sending. A small mercy.
Thalia chewed the inside of her cheek as Cassius moved to the bathing chamber. The sound of water running drew her in; she knew he’d turned on the sink, no doubt getting ready for bed.
Honestly, the whole proxy thing was ridiculous. Especially considering that half the prince’s court wasn’t even present. Thalia made a mental note to ask Camilla about that in the morning.
Thalia found herself going to the bathing chamber, stopping on the threshold. Cassius stood before the sink, his shirt off. Water ran down his face and neck, pooling into the crevices of his sculpted stomach.
“Can you send it for me tomorrow? Well, two letters—I don’t know how,” Thalia blurted out.
Cassius met her gaze in the mirror. “Two?”
“I wrote one for Katrina.” The mention of her handmaiden sent a pang of loneliness through her stomach.
She’d been a bit more honest in that letter.
Well, at least about how horrible it was to be near Cassius again.
How she hadn’t managed to find a … friend to confide in.
Gods, maybe she shouldn’t send that letter; it bordered on pathetic.
“You don’t know how to send a letter?” Cassius interrupted her thoughts.
She rolled her eyes. “Not here I don’t.”
Cassius snorted but nodded, going back to what he was doing. It took Thalia a moment to realize he was applying ointment to a cut on his arm.
She started. “What happened?”
Cassius glanced up at her again. “Nothing.”
Thalia was already across the bathing chamber. “That looks like it’s barely healing; it’s not nothing. When did this happen?”
Cassius applied more ointment to the cut. “Yesterday.”
“How?”
Cassius sighed, muttering to himself before he turned to her, his eyes flashing in annoyance. “A dog.”
“You said there aren’t dogs here—”
“Exactly.”
It took Thalia a moment to realize what he’d said. “Oh, I get it, is this because of what happened earlier?”
Cassius washed his hands meticulously.
“Really, Cassius? What are we, twelve?”
He turned off the water, drying his hands on a towel. “Considering that you don’t trust me enough to share information, why should I share anything with you?”
Oh, the prick was hurt. Thalia would have laughed if she weren’t so pissed off.
Cassius moved into the bedroom, aiming for the settee.
She trailed after him. “I told you I saw something.”
He sank onto the couch, facing her. “And I’ve told you, you’re a bad liar.” Thalia’s jaw ached from clenching it so hard as Cassius grabbed a discarded blanket. “Good night, Thalia.”
Then he turned over, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
Prick.
Her annoyance only grew as she got ready for bed, turned out the lights, and crawled between the sheets. But she kept the curtains open, only so she could see Cassius’s form on the settee, his back to her.
She knew he wasn’t asleep. And maybe because darkness concealed them and her mind still hummed with questions, she asked, “How did you become hand to the prince?”
Cassius shifted to face her. “Because the prince knew what I’d done before.”
Yes. He’d been captain of the guard, and he was the one who’d trained Reina and the rest of the soldiers in the palace.
He had talked with her about how they might defeat the enemy in the north.
Cassius, who’d promised to be by her side till the end.
Even when an offer of marriage came from a human prince in a far-off territory with the promise of armies, he understood.
Because her duty—her need to see her father’s and sister’s deaths avenged—came first. Even though it very nearly killed her to accept that marriage proposal.
But Cassius hadn’t understood after all.
Because the night he’d turned, he’d come to the castle and killed the very man who would have saved Agripa.