35. Casandra
I stare fixately at the rain misting against the window, watching the tiny droplets collide and slide down the glass, entirely numb to the sterile ache of my shoulder.
Inside, I am violently torn in two.
A small, pathetic part of me is clawing at my throat, whispering that this is my fault.
Maybe I wasn’t good enough. Maybe if I hadn’t been born into a lineage that drinks blood, he wouldn’t have looked at me with such pure loathing yesterday.
And then there’s Julian. Nikolai had stormed in here, practically vibrating with a feral, possessive heat, only to freeze the moment he saw another man sitting by my bedside.
Did he think I was playing him? Did he think the absolute madness we shared in my bed hours ago was just a game?
But as the seconds tick by, the vulnerability in my chest hardens, freezing over into a sharp, jagged sheet of pure fury.
How dare he? How dare he drag me to heaven, make me scream his name, and then walk into this medical center to discard me like a piece of garbage?
The emotional whiplash is enough to make my head spin.
One minute he is driving himself inside me, swearing I am his permanently, and the next he is delivering a cold, rehearsed speech about cosmic errors.
Fuck. Him.
I slam an iron wall down on the memory. One thing is absolutely certain: I am done. There is no apology, no grand gesture, no trick of the fated bond that will ever make me accept him after this.
Beside me, Julian remains perfectly silent. He hasn’t moved from the leather chair, his dark eyes tracking the erratic rise and fall of my chest. He knows me better than anyone in this miserable academy; he can practically hear the war raging beneath my skin.
Nikolai went outside to take a call, but he’ll be back. He told me he’d be back in a minute to finish the rejection. To officially break the bond.
My vision blurs for a terrifying microsecond, and I blink rapidly, my jaw locking so tight it aches. I won’t cry. I won’t cry. I won’t cry. I will NOT shed tears over a boy who thinks a title makes him a god.
Julian slowly reaches out, his cool, pale hand sliding over the mattress to cover mine. His fingers are steady, a grounding weight against my trembling skin.
I turn my head away from the window, forcing my lips to curve into a sharp, decisive smile as I look at him. “Well,” I say, my voice steady, though it carries a dangerous, quiet edge. “I guess we have a contract to sign and a wedding to plan.”
Julian’s expression softens, a profound, pitiful look flashing across his aristocratic features. He doesn’t look triumphant. He just looks sad for me, mourning the shattering of a fated dream he knew I secretly hoped for.
I squeeze his hand, my smile turning a little softer, a little more genuine. “For what it’s worth, Julian... it won’t be hard for me to fall in love with you.”
He doesn’t speak. Instead, he leans forward, his cool lips pressing a gentle, lingering kiss against my forehead. “It will be my honor to spend my life with you, Casandra,” he whispers against my skin, his voice an anchor in the storm.
I take a deep breath, the phantom scent of cinnamon buns finally fading from my senses, replaced by the clean, familiar smell of cedar and rain that belongs to Julian. I slide my legs over the edge of the bed, the movement sending a sharp ripple of pain through my bandaged shoulder, but I ignore it.
“Julian,” I say quietly, leaning closer so my voice doesn’t carry past the heavy door. “I want to talk to you about who might have done this. But I don’t feel safe here.”
Julian’s eyes narrow, his protective instincts instantly flaring. “Do you think you’re ready to move?”
“Yes,” I say, pushing myself up to stand. The world tilts for a second, but I grip Julian’s forearm until my balance steadies. “Let’s get out of this room. Nikolai should be outside and we can finalize the rejection there.”
Luckily, Ilinca had left a bag of my clothes on the armchair before she rushed out.
With Julian guarding the door, I quickly shed the hospital gown and pull on a pair of black leggings and an oversized dark sweater, carefully maneuvering my injured right arm through the sleeve.
The thick fabric hides the bandages, restoring my mask of absolute control.
When I’m done, Julian opens the door, wrapping his hand firmly around mine as we step out into the sterile corridor.
The hallway is still packed. My group—Tate, Miranda, Olivia, and Elias—are huddled near the benches, their faces etched with anxiety.
Lukas is also there, leaning against the far wall like a silver shadow.
The moment the door clicks open and he sees me walking out on my own two feet, he straightens up, crossing the distance between us in a few hurried strides.
“Cass,” Lukas says, his glacial eyes scanning my pale face, his voice laced with a raw, unexpected tension. “How are you? I was worried sick when I heard what happened.”
“I’ll be fine, Lukas,” I say, keeping my tone polite but distant. I can feel Julian’s grip tighten on my hand, a silent warning. “Vampires heal fast, remember?”
Before Lukas can press further, Elena breaks away from the shadows near the exit. Darius’ sitter looks completely undone, her neat uniform slightly disheveled. She approaches me quickly, dropping her head into a formal, deep bow that draws the immediate attention of everyone in the hallway.
“Your Highness,” Elena says, her voice trembling slightly. “Forgive the intrusion, but Ilinca and her mate have already left for the airfield to meet your parents. The King and Queen’s transport has just entered the island’s airspace. Your father is... exceptionally concerned about your well-being.”
A collective, heavy silence drops over the corridor.
Tate blinks, a slow, bewildered grin spreading across his face as he looks between me and the bowing sitter.
“Your Highness?” he repeats, letting out a short, playful laugh.
“Man, I figured you were noble-born, Cassie, but I didn’t think we were dealing with literal royalty. Did you forget to mention a crown?”
I look at my group—at Tate’s amused confusion, Olivia’s widening eyes, and Elias’s sudden, calculating stillness. Only Miranda remains unbothered, though she formally bows her head in respect to my family’s rank.
I offer Tate a small, dry smile. “I suppose I never formally introduced myself,” I say, my voice carrying clearly down the silent corridor. “My full name is Casandra Corvin.”
The effect is instantaneous.
Olivia gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as she stumbles back a half-step. Tate’s grin vanishes entirely, his jaw dropping as the gravity of the name settles into his brain. Elias goes completely rigid, his eyes blowing wide as he realizes exactly who has been running through the woods with them.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, my voice turning smooth and untouchable as I pull my posture tall, ignoring the throb in my shoulder.
“My fiancé and I need to return to the West Wing to prepare for my parents’ arrival. I suggest you all stay clear of the courtyard. My father does not possess a gentle temperament when he is angry.”
Without waiting for their responses, I turn on my heel. Julian walks in perfect lockstep with me, his shoulder brushing mine as we navigate the exit of the medical center and step out into the cool, gray mist.