Chapter 326 v4 - 27: the imperial banquet V

Chapter 326: v4 Chapter 27: the imperial banquet V

Cassian noticed it again.

Marian was looking at him.

He kept his attention on the conversation beside him for another moment before allowing himself a glance.

Their eyes met.

Marian looked away.

Cassian did the same.

His pulse quickened.

Had she recognized him?

The possibility stirred something dangerously close to hope.

Then caution followed.

She could not know.

And, perhaps more importantly, he could not afford to have her find out in the wrong way.

If Marian recognized him now and spoke his name aloud, everything would change.

He was not Cassian here.

He was Carlo of Valmere.

A Milician marquess.

A member of a foreign delegation that had arrived in the Empire that morning to negotiate a treaty.

That identity had been established before he ever crossed the Imperial border. His title was recognized. His history was known. His place within the Milician delegation was legitimate.

But Cassian Ashford was supposed to be dead.

If Marian suddenly identified him as Cassian, what would happen?

Adrian would know.

The Imperial court would know.

And Cassian would have to explain why a man who had supposedly died six years ago had been living under another name in Milicia, had acquired a title, and had returned with a foreign delegation.

He could deny it.

He would have to.

He could insist that he was Carlo.

That he had never heard of Cassian Ashford.

But Marian’s recognition alone would be enough to make people suspicious.

And once Adrian began to suspect—

Cassian stopped the thought.

He did not need to finish it.

He knew Adrian.

He knew what the Emperor was capable of.

And Cassian was not foolish enough to believe that he could simply walk into the Imperial court, announce himself as Duke Cassian Ashford, and expect his birthright to be returned to him.

The Empire had spent six years believing him dead.

Adrian had spent six years ruling this empire.

Cassian could not simply appear and demand that the world reverse itself.

Not while he was still Carlo.

Not while the Milician delegation was beginning its negotiations.

If he ever revealed himself as Cassian, the identity of Carlo would have to disappear first.

No one here could know that he had ever been Carlo.

There could be no halfway measure.

He could not be Carlo in the morning and Cassian Ashford by evening.

He would have to abandon everything that had been built around that name before he could reclaim his own.

That meant leaving the delegation, severing every connection to the Milician marquess, and ensuring that Carlo vanished without leaving a trail back to Cassian.

Only then could Cassian Ashford return.

Cassian looked toward Marian again.

She was speaking quietly with Adrian.

The Emperor seemed completely unaware of what was happening across the room.

Good.

Cassian’s gaze lowered.

He wanted Marian to know.

That was the problem.

He had spent six years wanting to return to her.

He had imagined telling her the truth more times than he could count.

He wanted to hear her say his name.

He wanted to know whether she would still recognize him.

But not like this.

Not in front of Adrian.

Not in front of the Imperial court.

Not while he had no way of knowing what Marian would do with the knowledge.

Because she did not know the truth.

She did not know what had happened to him.

She did not know why he had disappeared.

She did not know why he had returned under another name.

She might recognize him and still believe Adrian had every right to question him.

She might tell Adrian.

She might tell someone else.

She might simply be frightened.

Cassian could not risk any of those possibilities.

He needed to speak to her alone.

Somewhere he could tell her everything.

Somewhere she could hear the truth before anyone else did.

But how?

He had only arrived that morning. He had not yet had the chance to seek an opportunity, let alone find one.

He looked toward Marian once more.

She was watching him again.

This time, Cassian did not look immediately.

He held her gaze for a heartbeat.

Then uncertainty returned.

He looked away.

Perhaps she had recognized him.

Perhaps she had not.

He could not know.

But if she had—

then he hoped she would wait.

Just a little longer.

Until he could find a way to speak to her privately.

Not as Carlo.

Not as a foreign marquess.

But as Cassian.

--

The banquet continued around him.

Cassian forced himself back into the evening.

He answered when spoken to, listened to the conversations around him, and allowed the hours to pass without giving anyone reason to suspect that his attention was elsewhere.

Eventually, the final course was cleared.

The musicians played one last piece before falling silent.

The conversations gradually softened as the evening came to an end.

Adrian rose.

The room followed.

Cassian stood with the rest of the Milician delegation.

Across the hall, Marian rose beside her husband.

For a moment, Cassian looked at her.

She was smiling faintly at something Adrian had said.

Then Adrian offered her his arm.

Marian placed her hand upon it.

Together, they turned toward the doors.

Cassian watched them leave.

Marian did not look back.

He remained still until the doors closed behind them.

Only then did he breathe.

He had seen her.

They had not exchanged a single word.

And yet somehow, after six years of imagining his return, he felt as though he understood less than he had before he came.

He still did not know whether she had recognized him.

He still did not know whether she would want to hear the truth.

And he still had no idea how he was going to reach her.

But he was here.

She was here.

Now all that remained was to find a way for them to meet alone.

Cassian turned away from the doors.

He returned to his place among the Milician delegation as Carlo of Valmere.

And the banquet came to an end.

--

Tbc