Chapter 124: Good News

Chapter 124: Chapter 124: Good News

Marian knew something had changed the moment she entered her father’s study.

Not because Duke Valmort smiled.

Her father rarely smiled.

Not because he appeared excited.

He wasn’t the sort of man who became visibly excited about anything.

No.

She knew because he looked relieved.

And that frightened her for exactly half a second.

Before hope rushed in.

Fast.

Dangerous.

Impossible to stop.

"Father?"

Duke Valmort looked up from the document in his hands.

For a moment, he simply studied her.

Then something softened in his expression.

Not much.

Just enough.

And suddenly Marian’s heart began hammering against her ribs.

"Sit down."

She remained standing.

"Father."

This time there was no mistaking the urgency in her voice.

Duke Valmort sighed.

Then set the document aside.

"The Emperor understands."

The room went silent.

Marian stared.

For a moment she simply stared.

The words seemed too small.

Too simple.

Too ordinary.

Surely something so important should sound different.

Surely it should arrive with fanfare.

With declarations.

With certainty.

Not three quiet words.

The Emperor understands.

Her throat tightened.

"Father..."

"He listened."

Duke Valmort’s voice remained calm.

Steady.

"Very carefully."

Marian’s hands trembled.

Just slightly.

"The matter is not finished."

Immediately.

Practical as ever.

"There are procedures."

"There will be discussions."

"Nothing has been formally announced."

Marian nodded.

Then nodded again.

Because she knew all of that.

Of course she did.

But somehow none of it seemed important.

Not compared to this.

Not compared to hope.

Real hope.

For the first time, the future felt less like a dream and more like a destination.

A destination she might actually reach.

Duke Valmort watched her for a moment.

Then sighed.

"Go."

Marian blinked.

"Go?"

Her father raised an eyebrow.

"There is clearly somewhere else you would rather be."

Heat rushed into her face.

Duke Valmort looked entirely unimpressed.

"Thank you, Father."

"Yes."

She was already halfway to the door.

"Marian."

She turned.

Her father regarded her for a moment.

Then simply said:

"I’m happy for you."

And somehow that nearly made her cry.

--

Chapter 125 — Good News

Marian lasted exactly seven minutes after leaving her father’s study.

Seven.

She knew because she checked.

Twice.

The first time after reaching her room.

The second time after pacing from one end of it to the other.

By then she had already opened a book she hadn’t read.

Closed it again.

Looked out the window.

Sat down.

Stood up.

And finally admitted the truth.

She was not going to survive the afternoon without seeing Cassian.

The realization was both embarrassing and entirely accurate.

Marian dropped into her chair and pulled a sheet of paper toward her.

The pen hovered above the page.

Then stopped.

She wrote:

Cassian,

I have news.

Marian stared at it.

Then groaned.

"No."

That sounded dreadful.

Like the beginning of a tragedy.

She crumpled the paper.

Started again.

Cassian,

Are you free this afternoon?

A pause.

Then:

It is important.

She stared.

That was somehow worse.

Now it sounded as though she intended to destroy his life.

Marian buried her face in her hands.

Then laughed.

Because this was ridiculous.

After everything that had happened, after all the waiting and worrying and hoping—

she could not manage a simple letter.

Eventually she surrendered.

A fresh sheet.

A deep breath.

Then:

Cassian,

Are you free this afternoon?

I have news.

Marian

Simple.

Vague.

Mildly alarming.

Perfect.

She sealed it immediately before she could change her mind.

The moment the letter left her hands, she felt better.

Not calm.

Certainly not calm.

But better.

There was now a destination for all the excitement threatening to burst out of her chest.

"Father."

Duke Valmort glanced up as Marian reappeared in the doorway.

One eyebrow rose.

"Aren’t you supposed to be leaving?"

"I am."

"Then why are you still here?"

Marian hesitated.

Then crossed the room.

Walked around the desk.

And hugged him.

Duke Valmort froze.

Completely.

As though surprised by the attack.

Marian laughed.

"You look horrified."

"I am surprised."

"You are my father."

"Yes."

"You should expect affection."

"I do."

A pause.

"Occasionally."

Marian rolled her eyes.

Then squeezed him tighter.

"Thank you."

Silence.

For a moment, Duke Valmort said nothing.

Then his hand settled briefly against her hair.

A rare gesture.

An even rarer tenderness.

"You don’t need to thank me."

"I do."

"No."

His voice remained quiet.

Firm.

"I should have listened sooner."

Marian’s smile softened.

Then she stepped back.

Duke Valmort looked at her for a long moment.

Taking in the happiness she was trying—and failing—to hide.

Finally, he sighed.

"Go."

This time Marian obeyed.

Though not before kissing his cheek and escaping before he could complain about it.

Cassian was already waiting.

Of course he was.

Marian spotted him through the restaurant window.

Seated at their usual table.

Composed.

Elegant.

Entirely too handsome.

The sight alone made her smile widen.

It was honestly unfair.

She had spent weeks reaching that conclusion.

Nothing had changed.

Cassian looked up.

Saw her.

And immediately frowned.

Marian nearly laughed.

Good.

He was worried.

That served him right.

By the time she reached the table, he was already standing.

"What happened?"

Marian blinked.

"Good afternoon to you as well."

"What happened?"

She sat.

Unhurried.

Deliberately graceful.

Cassian remained standing.

Clearly unwilling to play along.

Which only encouraged her.

"You look pleased with yourself."

"What a terrible accusation."

"Marian."

"Cassian."

"What happened?"

She reached for the menu.

Examined it thoughtfully.

"I think I’ll have tea."

"Marian."

"Perhaps cake."

The look he gave her nearly ruined her composure.

Marian bit the inside of her cheek.

Desperately trying not to laugh.

She failed.

Completely.

A bright laugh escaped her.

The sound seemed to surprise both of them.

Because she hadn’t laughed like that in quite some time.

Cassian stared.

Then sighed.

"You’re doing this on purpose."

"Maybe."

"You are."

"Possibly."

"Marian."

Now she laughed again.

Because he sounded genuinely offended.

For a moment she simply watched him.

The concern.

The impatience.

The tension he was trying—and failing—to hide.

And suddenly the teasing became difficult.

Because she realized he had been carrying this weight too.

Perhaps not in the same way.

But he had carried it.

Every bit as faithfully.

Marian reached across the table.

Placed her hand over his.

Immediately silencing him.

Then she smiled.

And quietly said:

"Father met with the Emperor."

Cassian’s expression changed instantly.

Every trace of amusement disappeared.

"What happened?"

The question came softer this time.

Carefully.

Almost cautiously.

Marian felt her chest tighten.

Then:

"The Emperor understands."

Silence.

Complete silence.

Cassian simply stared at her.

One heartbeat.

Then another.

Then another.

As though the words needed time to settle.

Marian watched the realization arrive.

Slowly.

Then all at once.

The tension left his shoulders.

Not completely.

But enough.

Enough that she noticed.

Enough that it made her heart ache.

Because she wasn’t the only one who had been afraid.

Neither spoke.

Neither needed to.

The meaning filled the space between them.

Then finally—

Cassian laughed.

Softly.

Disbelievingly.

And somehow that sound was worth every difficult day that had come before.

"I think," he said, "that may be the most beautiful sentence I’ve heard this year."

Marian snorted.

"What terrible standards."

"Apparently."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.

For once they weren’t discussing obstacles.

Or plans.

Or disasters.

Or imperial politics.

They talked about everything else.

The Season.

The gossip.

The capital.

The inevitable scandal.

The noblewomen who would suddenly remember Marian existed.

The noblemen who would suddenly remember Cassian existed.

"What happens if the dissolution is announced during the Season?"

"The capital explodes."

Marian sighed.

"I feared that might be the answer."

"It is the optimistic answer."

She stared.

"There is an optimistic version?"

"Certainly."

"And the pessimistic version?"

Cassian considered.

"The capital explodes louder."

Marian groaned.

Cassian laughed.

"The newspapers are going to be unbearable."

"They already are."

"A fair point."

"At least this time they’ll have a new topic."

"Wonderful."

"You sound unconvinced."

"I am unconvinced."

The conversation drifted naturally.

Lightly.

Comfortably.

The way it always seemed to when they were together.

One topic leading to another.

One joke becoming three.

One smile becoming laughter.

At one point Marian realized something.

She hadn’t looked at the clock.

Not once.

For weeks she had measured time.

Counted days.

Counted audiences.

Counted delays.

Counted worries.

Now she had forgotten.

Entirely.

Cassian was saying something about his aunt.

Marian wasn’t entirely listening.

She was too busy watching him.

The way his eyes brightened when he laughed.

The way he gestured with his hands.

The way he looked far younger when he wasn’t carrying the weight of uncertainty.

And suddenly she thought:

There you are.

Not the duke.

Not the nobleman.

Not the man caught in political disaster.

Just Cassian.

At some point she stopped waiting for the next problem.

She didn’t notice when it happened.

One moment she had been bracing herself for disappointment.

The next she was laughing.

Really laughing.

Across from Cassian.

In a crowded restaurant.

On an ordinary afternoon.

And for the first time in a very long while, happiness felt astonishingly easy.

Perhaps that was why she didn’t trust it entirely.

Or perhaps that was why she cherished it.

Either way—

she found herself wishing the afternoon would never end.