Chapter 90: What Happens Next

Chapter 90: Chapter 90: What Happens Next

The Duke folded his arms.

"Tell me exactly what you think happens next."

Silence.

The question lingered between them.

Simple.

Direct.

Brutal.

Not because Duke Valmort expected an answer.

But because he wanted to know whether Cassian had truly considered the consequences.

Across from him, Cassian remained quiet.

Not caught off guard.

Not uncertain.

Simply considering his words.

Finally—

"I don’t know."

The Duke stared.

Then stared a little longer.

Because that was not the answer he expected.

Nor was it the answer he appreciated.

"You don’t know."

"No."

The Duke felt another headache coming.

An impressive achievement.

Considering he already had one.

Cassian continued before he could speak.

"I know what will happen."

A pause.

"I don’t know every step."

That was marginally better.

Not much.

But marginally.

"The Crown Prince will oppose it."

"Obviously."

"The Imperial Family will become involved."

"Naturally."

"The nobility will choose sides."

"Unfortunately."

"The Emperor will eventually have to make a decision."

At that, the Duke’s expression darkened slightly.

Because that was the heart of the problem.

Not Adrian.

The Emperor.

Eventually every road led there.

Cassian’s voice remained calm.

"The rumors will worsen."

The Duke snorted.

"As though there aren’t already enough."

A flicker of amusement appeared briefly in Cassian’s eyes.

Then vanished.

"Lady Marian will be criticized."

The Duke’s gaze sharpened.

Because that was the first thing Cassian mentioned.

Not himself.

Not politics.

Not Adrian.

Marian.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

"And?"

Cassian met his gaze.

"I won’t allow her to face it alone."

The answer came immediately.

Without hesitation.

Without calculation.

The Duke studied him carefully.

"You make that sound simple."

"It isn’t."

At least he had the decency to admit it.

Silence settled between them again.

The Duke looked toward the window.

Toward the gardens.

Toward the peaceful estate that seemed determined to mock him.

Then he looked back.

And shook his head.

Slowly.

As though something continued to bother him.

"You’re still not answering my question."

Cassian remained silent.

The Duke continued.

"You know what happens next."

His voice was calm.

Measured.

The voice of a man who had spent an entire night thinking about consequences.

"The Emperor becomes involved."

"The Imperial Family becomes involved."

"The nobility becomes involved."

"The entire Empire becomes involved."

Each point landed heavily.

Neither man disputed them.

"Lady Marian will be criticized."

"The Crown Prince will oppose it."

"House Valmort will be dragged into it."

The Duke’s gaze sharpened.

"So why?"

Silence.

The question hung between them.

Not angry.

Not accusing.

Genuinely asking.

Because that was the part Duke Valmort could not understand.

Why choose the difficult path when a simpler one existed?

Why pursue something that could only lead to conflict?

Why continue at all?

Cassian understood immediately.

Of course he did.

Because that was the real question.

Not politics.

Not strategy.

Not consequences.

Why?

For the first time since entering the study, Cassian looked away.

Not for long.

Only a moment.

As though gathering his thoughts.

Then he looked back.

And met the Duke’s gaze directly.

"Eighteen years."

The Duke stilled.

Cassian continued quietly.

"Eighteen years, Your Grace."

Neither man needed further explanation.

They both knew exactly what those years represented.

Expectation.

Duty.

History.

Certainty.

The weight of an entire future.

Cassian’s expression remained calm.

Yet there was something unshakable beneath it.

Something the Duke had noticed from the beginning.

Resolve.

"Eighteen years."

His voice did not waver.

"And she chose me."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

The room became very still.

Because suddenly the answer was no longer about Cassian.

Or Adrian.

Or politics.

Or even love.

It was about Marian.

Her decision.

Her choice.

And somehow that made it much harder to dismiss.

The Duke stared at him.

Long enough that another man might have become uncomfortable.

Cassian did not.

Eventually, Duke Valmort exhaled.

Slowly.

Because there was no immediate answer to that.

No easy rebuttal.

No convenient argument.

Only an uncomfortable truth.

Marian had chosen.

The Duke still wasn’t certain what to do with that fact.

But he could no longer pretend it didn’t exist.

For several moments neither man spoke.

Then, finally, the Duke stood.

The conversation was over.

Not because he had reached a decision.

Far from it.

If anything, he had more questions now than he had yesterday.

But none of them would be answered today.

Cassian rose as well.

Neither man moved toward the door immediately.

The Duke studied him one final time.

Then sighed.

A long-suffering sigh.

The sort of sigh normally reserved for political disasters.

Or daughters.

Occasionally both.

"I assume you aren’t expecting an answer today."

"No."

Good.

At least the boy had some sense.

The Duke nodded.

Then, after a moment:

"I’ll think about it."

It wasn’t approval.

It wasn’t rejection.

It was the most either of them could reasonably expect.

Cassian inclined his head.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

The Duke waved a hand.

Already tired.

Already developing another headache.

"Go."

A pause.

Then:

"Before I change my mind."

For the first time, something very close to amusement appeared in Cassian’s eyes.

Brief.

Gone almost immediately.

Then he bowed.

Turned.

And left the study.

The door closed behind him.

Silence returned.

The Duke stared at the closed door.

Then at the documents on his desk.

Then back at the door.

His week had somehow become even more complicated.

An achievement he would have previously considered impossible.

Cassian had barely taken three steps into the corridor when he stopped.

Marian stood near one of the tall windows.

Pretending not to wait.

Badly.

Very badly.

She immediately straightened.

Cassian raised an eyebrow.

Marian looked away.

Which was essentially a confession.

For several moments neither spoke.

Then:

"How did it go?"

There it was.

No greeting.

No preamble.

Straight to the important question.

Cassian looked at her.

Really looked.

The tension in her shoulders.

The way her hands were clasped together.

The worry she was trying—and failing—to hide.

She had been waiting.

Not because she was curious.

Because she was worried.

For him.

Something warm settled quietly in his chest.

"He listened."

Marian blinked.

"That’s it?"

"For now."

Her shoulders relaxed immediately.

So immediately that Cassian almost smiled.

Almost.

Marian caught it anyway.

"You smiled."

"I didn’t."

"You did."

"I considered it."

"That’s the same thing."

"It isn’t."

"It absolutely is."

The argument lasted approximately three seconds.

Neither of them believed it.

For a moment, the tension that had hung over both of them since arriving in the capital eased.

Just a little.

Not enough.

But enough.

Then Marian’s gaze drifted toward the study door.

Her smile faded slightly.

"My father looked angry when I left yesterday."

Cassian followed her gaze.

"He isn’t angry."

Marian looked surprised.

"No?"

Cassian considered.

Then:

"Confused."

A pause.

"Concerned."

Another pause.

"Possibly developing a headache."

Marian laughed.

An actual laugh.

Bright.

Unrestrained.

The sound caught him off guard.

For a moment, neither seemed to notice the servants passing through the corridor.

Or the politics.

Or Adrian.

Or the Empire.

Then reality returned.

As it always did.

Marian looked up at him.

The smile still lingering.

And suddenly neither seemed quite certain how to say goodbye.

A ridiculous problem.

Considering everything else.

Finally, Cassian reached out.

Only briefly.

His fingers brushing hers.

The lightest touch.

Gone almost immediately.

Yet Marian’s breath caught anyway.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then a servant passed through the corridor.

Neither reacted.

Not because they hadn’t noticed.

Because there was nothing to hide.

Not anymore.

The realization felt strange.

New.

A little frightening.

And somehow freeing at the same time.

Cassian withdrew his hand.

Reluctantly.

Marian looked suspiciously pleased about it.

Which did not help.

Not at all.

"I should go."

"Probably."

Neither moved.

A terrible habit.

One they seemed to be developing rapidly.

Eventually, Cassian stepped back.

Marian watched him.

He watched her.

Then:

"Until next time, Lady Marian."

Something softened in her expression.

"Until next time."