Chapter 309: v4 - 10: the journey home

Chapter 309: v4 Chapter 10: the journey home

The three weeks between Milicia and the Empire passed more quickly than Cassian had expected.

Perhaps it was because, for the first time in years, every mile carried him toward something rather than away from it.

When the delegation finally crossed the southern border of the Empire, Cassian looked out across the road ahead.

Imperial soil.

He had imagined this moment before.

Many times.

Yet when it finally came, there was no grand revelation.

Only a strange sense of familiarity.

The language spoken by the travelers they passed was familiar.

The merchants called to one another in words he had heard since childhood.

The road signs bore names he remembered.

Even the rhythm of life seemed different here.

He had not realized how much of it he had carried with him until he heard it again.

Home.

The word came to him instinctively.

Then he almost rejected it.

He had been gone too long.

Home had continued without him.

So Cassian simply watched.

They traveled through the southern provinces over the following days, moving steadily north toward the capital.

The first day passed quietly.

The second did as well.

But with every mile, one thought returned more often than the others.

Marian.

What did she look like now?

He knew, of course, that she would have changed.

Almost six years was a long time.

She would be older.

He wondered whether her face had become softer or sharper with age.

Whether she still wore her hair the same way.

Whether she still smiled when she was amused before she realized she was doing it.

He remembered the woman he had last seen.

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, she was still that Marian.

Young.

Beautiful.

Familiar.

The woman who had looked at him as though the rest of the world could disappear and it would not matter.

But that Marian existed almost six years in the past.

The woman waiting in the capital—if she was waiting at all—was someone he had never met.

That thought stayed with him.

By the third day, he had begun imagining their reunion.

It happened differently every time.

Sometimes she saw him and knew him immediately.

He imagined the shock on her face.

The way her eyes would widen.

The way she might say his name as though she were afraid that speaking it would make him disappear again.

Sometimes she cried.

Sometimes she smiled.

Once, in the privacy of his own thoughts, she simply ran toward him.

Cassian smiled at the absurdity of that particular version.

Marian had never been quite so impulsive. Then again, she had her moments.

Then another possibility occurred to him.

Perhaps she would not recognize him.

He looked considerably different from the man who had left the Empire.

Not completely.

But enough.

His features had matured.

His jaw had become sharper.

His face carried the evidence of years he had not been able to live gently.

And Marian had known him as a younger man.

What if she looked directly at him and saw only a stranger?

The thought unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

Then there were stranger possibilities.

Perhaps she would recognize him immediately but pretend she did not.

Perhaps she would be angry.

Perhaps she would simply stare at him.

Perhaps she would say nothing at all.

Cassian found himself wondering what he would do in each case.

If she cried, would he touch her?

If she stepped away, would he follow?

If she called his name, would he even be able to answer?

He had met her thousands of times in his dreams.

In those dreams, everything was easy.

He would see her.

She would see him.

And somehow, without needing to explain anything, they would understand one another.

Reality would not be so kind.

On the fourth day, the delegation stopped in a provincial town to change horses.

Cassian stepped down from his horse and stood near the edge of the road while the others attended to the arrangements.

A group of children ran past.

A merchant argued with a stable hand.

Somewhere nearby, someone was playing a familiar Imperial melody on a small instrument.

Cassian listened.

He had heard that tune before.

Years ago.

For a moment, he was no longer a Marquess traveling under another name.

He was simply a young man who had once believed he knew exactly where his life was going.

Then the moment passed.

He looked north.

Marian was there.

He knew it.

He did not ask anyone about her.

That was deliberate.

There were newspapers.

Courtiers.

Travelers.

Enough people who could tell him exactly what had happened in the years since his disappearance.

He could have asked.

He didn’t.

He knew enough already.

Marian was alive.

She was in the capital.

That was all he allowed himself.

Anything more might make the journey harder.

Still, news sometimes reached them without his asking.

The Emperor’s name appeared occasionally in conversation.

The Empress’s name did too.

Cassian listened without reacting.

He never asked for details.

He did not want to know what functions she had attended.

What gowns she wore.

Where she went.

Whether she smiled beside Adrian.

Those things belonged to a life he had not witnessed.

He would see her himself soon enough.

On the fifth day, the anticipation became harder to ignore.

He found himself looking at the road more often.

Calculating distances.

Wondering how long remained.

Marcus noticed once.

"You’ve looked toward the road six times in the last hour."

Cassian glanced at him.

"Have I?"

"Seven."

Cassian looked away.

Lorenz, riding a short distance ahead, turned slightly.

"Let him."

Marcus smiled.

"I said nothing."

"You were about to."

"I was not."

Lorenz looked at Cassian.

"Tomorrow?"

Cassian shook his head.

"Not yet."

Lorenz understood.

He said nothing more.

That evening, Cassian barely slept.

He lay awake for some time, staring into the darkness.

Tomorrow would be the sixth day inside the Empire.

Tomorrow night, they would be close enough that he would be able to see the capital.

And the day after—

He stopped himself.

He did not want to think too far ahead.

But he could not stop thinking about Marian.

What would she think when she saw him?

Would she believe him?

Would she forgive him for being gone so long?

Would she still remember the promises they had made?

Would she still love him?

He turned onto his side.

That last question was the one he tried hardest not to ask.

On the sixth day, the landscape began to change.

The roads became broader.

The traffic heavier.

The signs of the capital more frequent.

They passed larger estates and increasingly prosperous towns.

Imperial banners appeared more often.

The delegation moved steadily onward.

Cassian watched everything.

The Empire looked prosperous.

Stable.

Alive.

He felt something strange in his chest.

He had once belonged here.

Perhaps some part of him still did.

But tomorrow, he would enter the capital under another man’s name.

Marquess Carlo of Valmere.

Not Duke Cassian Ashford.

Not yet.

By late afternoon, the delegation reached the estate where they would spend their final night before entering the capital.

Cassian dismounted.

He looked toward the road they would take in the morning.

The capital lay beyond it.

He had spent almost six years dreaming of returning.

Now there was only one night left.

And suddenly, the thought that had seemed so distant for so long became almost frighteningly real.

Tomorrow, he would see Marian.

Cassian stood there for a moment longer.

He wondered, not for the first time, what she looked like now.

Then he smiled faintly.

Whatever she looked like, he already knew one thing.

He would recognize her.

He had never forgotten her face.

The question was whether she would recognize his.

--

To be continued

AN: almost thereeeeee