Chapter 316: v4 - 17: the arrival II

Chapter 316: v4 Chapter 17: the arrival II

Cassian saw Lorenz ride ahead.

The king had already dismounted.

Across the open space before the gates, another man was doing the same.

Cassian’s attention shifted toward him.

And stopped.

Adrian.

For a moment, everything else seemed to recede.

The noise of the delegation.

The horses beneath him.

The voices around him.

Even the capital itself.

Cassian simply looked.

Six years.

He had not seen Adrian in six years.

And yet he knew him immediately.

The platinum hair was the first thing he noticed.

It caught the morning light, almost painfully bright against the darker uniforms surrounding him.

Adrian.

His cousin.

The Crown Prince who had once ridden beside him through the Imperial grounds.

The man who had become Emperor.

Cassian studied him almost despite himself.

The years had been kind to Adrian.

He had lost the softer edges of youth, but whatever had replaced them suited him.

His features were more defined now.

His jaw stronger.

His expression more controlled.

There was a maturity to his face that had not been there six years ago, and something in the set of his shoulders suggested a man who had grown entirely into the authority he carried.

Even from a distance, Cassian could see the same blue eyes he remembered.

Only colder now.

Or perhaps Cassian simply remembered them differently.

Adrian looked well.

More than well.

He looked like a man who had spent six years becoming exactly what the Empire had expected him to become.

An Emperor.

Cassian’s gaze lingered for one moment longer than he intended.

He was still handsome.

That thought came unbidden.

Cassian almost resented himself for noticing.

Then the bitterness returned.

Of course he was.

The world had been generous to Adrian.

It had given him the throne.

It had given him time.

It had allowed him to grow older in peace while Cassian had fought simply to remain alive.

And now he stood there in the morning light, composed and immaculate, as though the six years between them had been nothing.

The man who had taken everything from him.

Cassian’s fingers tightened around the reins.

He had imagined this moment countless times.

He had wondered whether he would feel anger.

Hatred.

Nothing.

Perhaps even forgiveness.

He had never imagined the first thing he would feel would be the sudden, overwhelming certainty of recognition.

There you are.

The thought came strangely.

Not Adrian.

Not my enemy.

Simply—

There you are.

And then the anger came.

It was not loud.

It did not explode.

It simply settled into him with a terrible familiarity.

Because seeing Adrian alive and standing there as Emperor made the past real in a way memory never had.

Six years.

Six years in which Cassian had been dead to this man.

And suddenly, Cassian understood why seeing him again hurt so much.

Adrian had not taken his title.

He had not taken his name.

He had not even taken the life Cassian had once lived.

He had simply taken away Cassian’s right to live it.

To grow older.

To return home.

To choose what came next.

To live the future that should have belonged to him.

And most of all—

to live it with Marian.

Cassian’s jaw tightened.

Adrian was speaking to Lorenz now.

Cassian could not hear the words from this distance.

He watched instead.

Watched the way Adrian stood.

The way he listened.

The way his attention remained entirely upon the king of Milicia.

Then Adrian smiled faintly at something Lorenz said.

Cassian felt something twist inside him.

He hated him.

He had known that.

But he had never understood how much until now.

Because Adrian was no longer a memory.

He was standing only a short distance away.

Alive.

Powerful.

Untouched by the years that had nearly destroyed Cassian.

And Cassian—

Cassian was supposed to be dead.

His expression did not change.

Around him, the delegation waited in perfect order.

No one looking at him would have seen anything unusual.

He was Carlo.

Marquess Carlo of Valmere.

Another Milician nobleman among dozens.

Adrian’s gaze moved briefly across the delegation.

It passed over Cassian.

And continued.

No recognition.

Nothing.

Cassian almost felt the strange urge to laugh.

After all the years he had spent imagining Adrian’s reaction, the Emperor did not even look twice.

Of course he didn’t.

Why would he?

Cassian Ashford was dead.

There was no reason for Adrian to search the faces of the living for a man who had supposedly died six years ago.

Cassian lowered his gaze for a moment.

Good.

Let it remain that way.

He had not come here to confront Adrian.

Not yet.

His purpose was elsewhere.

His eyes moved past him.

Toward the capital.

Toward the palace.

Toward the woman who had occupied every difficult day of the six years between then and now.

Marian.

The thought steadied him.

He drew a slow breath.

The sovereigns had finished their formal exchange.

The horses were brought forward again.

Adrian mounted.

Lorenz followed.

Then the procession began to move.

Cassian raised his eyes once more.

The capital gates stood open before them.

The road beyond was lined with people.

Imperial banners lifted in the morning wind.

Milician standards followed behind them.

The two sovereigns rode at the front, leaving enough distance behind them for the delegations to follow in proper order.

Only then did Cassian realize—

he was finally entering the city.

His city.

The place where he had once been Duke Cassian Ashford.

The place where he had once believed he would grow old.

The place where Marian was waiting.

Cassian tightened his grip on the reins.

Then he rode forward.

--

The procession entered the capital slowly.

The horses walked at an unhurried pace, their hooves striking the avenue in a steady rhythm.

At the front, Adrian and Lorenz rode side by side, leaving enough distance behind them for the two delegations to follow in proper order.

The crowds gathered along the streets watched in silence at first.

Then the Imperial banners lifted in the morning wind.

The Milician standards followed behind them.

The two sovereigns continued beneath the open gates, the capital spreading before them.

Only after they had entered did the rest of the delegation pass through behind them.

The Imperial Guard came first.

Then the Milician guards.

Then the carriages, officials, attendants, and riders who made up the long diplomatic procession.

The capital received them all.

The reception had officially begun.