Chapter 328 v4 - 29: out of reach

Chapter 328: v4 Chapter 29: out of reach

Morning came earlier than Cassian would have liked.

He had barely slept.

Not because of the banquet itself.

Because of what came after it.

Marian.

Cassian stood before the tall windows of his quarters, one hand resting against the frame as he looked out over the palace grounds.

The Imperial palace was already awake.

Servants crossed the courtyards below, carrying trays and baskets between the different wings of the palace. Guards stood at every major entrance while carriages arrived with ministers and officials for the morning’s treaty discussions.

Cassian watched them for a while.

He needed to know where Marian was.

That was the first problem.

He had assumed she would have the Empress’s apartments.

It seemed logical.

But he did not actually know.

Six years had passed.

The palace had changed in small ways since he had last lived here, and so had Marian’s position within it.

He could not simply ask.

Carlo of Valmere did not speak Imperial.

At least, that was what everyone here believed.

So he would have to listen.

Cassian dressed and left his quarters.

The morning offered him plenty of opportunities.

The Milician ministers were occupied with the treaty discussions, while Cassian, having no formal role in the negotiations, was free to move about the palace grounds.

He took advantage of it.

He walked slowly through the corridors, sometimes stopping to examine a painting or architectural detail he had no real interest in.

He listened.

Years in Milicia had taught him how to gather information without appearing to search for it.

A question asked too directly invited caution.

A casual remark encouraged people to speak.

So he smiled when spoken to.

He allowed servants to practice their Milician on him.

He responded in the same language.

And when conversations around him shifted into Imperial, he remained silent.

Listening.

The first useful piece of information came from two young attendants speaking near a staircase.

Cassian was several paces away, apparently examining a display of porcelain.

He heard Marian’s name.

His attention sharpened immediately.

The attendants were discussing the morning arrangements.

Something about the Empress not requiring anything.

Cassian kept his expression neutral.

He continued studying the porcelain while listening.

A few minutes later, he knew that Marian had no appointments that morning.

That was useful.

But not enough.

He continued.

Later, near one of the inner courtyards, he overheard another conversation.

The Empress had asked for books.

Cassian almost smiled.

Books.

Of course.

He remembered how easily Marian could disappear into one when she had no reason to be anywhere else.

But where?

That question remained.

He moved deeper into the palace.

Because he had once known these halls intimately, he knew where to stand without attracting attention. There were quiet galleries that connected different wings, narrow passages used by servants, and old balconies from which one could observe the courtyards below without being noticed.

Most visiting nobles would never have known about them.

Cassian did.

He had spent years here.

He used that knowledge carefully.

By late morning, he had pieced together enough fragments to understand the general pattern.

Marian was not in the Empress’s public apartments.

She was not attending meetings.

She was not moving through the palace.

She was staying somewhere private.

Cassian frowned slightly.

He listened again.

Then, finally, he caught the words he had been looking for.

The Emperor’s private apartments.

Cassian went still.

For a moment, everything around him seemed to fade into the background.

The Emperor’s private apartments.

Not the Empress’s separate quarters.

Not some wing assigned to her.

She lived with Adrian.

Of course she did.

He had seen enough of them at the banquet to understand that their marriage was not merely ceremonial.

Still, hearing it made the reality sharper.

Cassian waited until the servants had gone before moving on.

He knew the palace well enough to know several ways of reaching the eastern wing.

At least, he knew several ways that had existed years ago.

He tried one.

It ended at a guarded corridor.

He tried another.

More guards.

A third route brought him to a side entrance he remembered being used by household staff.

It was guarded now as well.

Cassian stood at a discreet distance and watched.

The guards were not decorative.

They were attentive.

Anyone entering was expected to have a reason.

He could probably invent one.

The difficulty was making it convincing.

He was Carlo of Valmere, a visiting Milician marquess.

There was no legitimate reason for him to enter the Emperor’s private residence.

And if he tried to force his way through with charm alone, someone would eventually become suspicious.

Cassian stepped back.

He had spent the entire morning learning where Marian was.

Now he had discovered the answer.

And somehow, it was worse than not knowing.

She was there.

Only a short distance away.

Behind a series of guarded entrances that he had no business crossing.

Cassian glanced once more toward the private wing.

He had come back to the Empire believing that the hardest part would be facing Marian again.

Apparently, he had been wrong.

The hardest part might simply be reaching her.

--

By afternoon, Cassian had chosen a position near the eastern wing.

It was not close enough to draw attention, but it offered a clear view of the corridor leading from the Emperor’s private apartments toward the inner gardens.

If Marian left, he would see her.

At least, that was what he told himself.

He waited.

At first, he stood near a tall window with a book in hand, turning pages at irregular intervals so that he appeared occupied.

Then he moved to a nearby gallery when a group of officials passed through.

After that, he settled beneath the shadow of an archway overlooking the corridor.

He watched servants enter and leave.

He watched guards change shifts.

He watched a physician arrive, then depart.

He watched a secretary carrying a stack of documents disappear behind the guarded doors.

Marian did not appear.

The hours passed slowly.

Once, Cassian thought he saw the edge of a familiar blue sleeve beyond the corridor.

He straightened before he could stop himself.

But it was only a maid carrying folded linens.

He forced himself to relax.

Another time, the doors opened and Adrian emerged with two ministers.

Cassian lowered his gaze at once, allowing the Emperor to pass without acknowledging him.

Marian was not with him.

By late afternoon, Cassian’s patience had worn thin.

He had learned nothing new.

He had not seen her.

He had not found a way inside.

And he had spent hours standing in the same part of the palace like a man waiting for a miracle.

Eventually, he left the eastern wing.

He tried another route.

Then another.

He circled through the old galleries, crossed the inner courtyard, and returned by way of the servants’ passages.

Each path ended the same way.

Guards.

Locked doors.

Nothing.

By evening, Cassian had gone round and round the palace until the corridors seemed to blur together.

He had begun the day with a question.

Where was Marian?

Now he knew.

She was in the Emperor’s private apartments.

But knowing her location had not brought him any closer to her.

He returned to his quarters with nothing to show for the day except exhaustion and a growing sense of frustration.

He had listened to servants.

He had watched corridors.

He had searched every passage he could reach without exposing himself.

And he had found nothing.

Cassian closed the door behind him and stood in the quiet room.

For the first time since returning to the Empire, he allowed himself to admit the truth.

He had no idea how he was going to reach her.

--

Tbc