Chapter 92: Silence

Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Silence

Three days passed.

Which, Marian discovered, was apparently enough time for a person to lose all dignity.

The moment the maid entered carrying flowers, Marian sat upright.

Immediately.

Far too quickly.

The maid stopped.

Then looked down at the arrangement.

Then at Marian.

Then back at the arrangement.

Slowly.

"My lady."

Marian ignored the tone completely.

"There’s a note, isn’t there?"

Silence.

The maid stared.

"You didn’t even look at the flowers."

"The note."

"My lady."

"The note."

The maid sighed.

Deeply.

Years of loyal service.

Completely wasted.

"Good morning to you too."

"Is there a note?"

The maid closed her eyes briefly.

As though praying for patience.

Unfortunately, heaven remained silent.

A tragedy.

Marian accepted the arrangement carefully.

Far more carefully than necessary.

Which was another problem.

Everything had become a problem lately.

Especially smiling.

She kept doing it.

At inappropriate times.

Without permission.

The note arrived moments later.

Short.

As always.

Marian unfolded it carefully.

Far more carefully than necessary.

The maid noticed.

Of course she did.

A terrible woman.

The message itself was simple.

I hope you’re sleeping better.

Yours, Cassian.

Silence.

Marian read it once.

Then twice.

Then a third time.

The maid watched.

Judging.

Relentlessly.

"My lady."

Marian looked up.

"What?"

"Eight words."

Marian blinked.

"What?"

The maid pointed at the note.

"Eight."

A pause.

"You’re reading seven words for the third time."

Marian immediately looked back down.

The maid’s expression became unbearable.

"To be fair," the maid continued thoughtfully, "I suspect you’re only rereading two of them."

Marian nearly dropped the note.

The maid looked victorious.

Again.

A terrible habit.

"That is an outrageous accusation."

"Mm."

"It is."

"Yours, Cassian."

Marian buried her face in her hands.

The maid sighed dramatically.

"For years I worried you would never fall in love."

"I hate you."

"No, you don’t."

Unfortunately, that was also true.

Marian folded the note carefully.

Very carefully.

The maid noticed.

Of course she did.

"You kept the others too."

Marian immediately became defensive.

"I did not."

"My lady."

"...I misplaced them."

The maid laughed.

Actually laughed.

The betrayal was unbelievable.

For a moment Marian considered throwing a cushion.

Again.

A habit she seemed to be developing.

Unfortunately, the maid continued.

"What exactly is so special about Duke Ashford?"

Silence.

Marian opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Because surprisingly, that was difficult.

The maid waited.

Patiently.

Dangerously.

Finally:

"He’s kind."

The maid nodded.

Reasonable.

"And?"

"He listens."

"Mm."

"And?"

Marian frowned.

Why did it feel like an interrogation?

The maid remained relentless.

"And?"

"He remembers things."

The maid looked unimpressed.

"My lady."

"What?"

"Half the kingdom’s mothers would describe their sons the same way."

Marian looked scandalized.

"They would not."

"They absolutely would."

The maid paused.

Then added:

"Try again."

Marian stared.

Then looked away.

Because unfortunately another answer immediately came to mind.

One she absolutely refused to say.

The maid noticed.

Of course she did.

A terrible woman.

"My lady."

"No."

"You haven’t even heard the question."

"I know the question."

The maid’s smile widened.

A dangerous development.

"Then answer it."

Marian crossed her arms.

The maid waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Eventually—

Very quietly—

"He’s handsome."

The maid immediately covered her face.

Marian became offended.

"What was that reaction?"

"My lady."

The maid sounded genuinely distressed.

"He’s the most handsome man in the Empire."

"That isn’t the point."

"That is absolutely the point."

Marian felt her face warming.

An unfortunate condition.

One that seemed to happen frequently lately.

The maid continued mercilessly.

"You spent ten minutes describing his eyes yesterday."

"I did not."

"You did."

"I was making an observation."

"You called them unfair."

Marian buried her face in her hands.

The maid looked victorious.

Again.

A terrible habit.

"I cannot believe this."

"Neither can I."

The maid sighed dramatically.

"For years I worried you would never fall in love."

Marian froze.

The words settled unexpectedly.

The maid blinked.

Apparently realizing what she had said.

Neither spoke for a moment.

Then quietly:

"You loved His Highness."

Marian nodded.

"Yes."

The answer came easily.

Because it was true.

She had.

For eighteen years.

The maid smiled faintly.

"I know."

A pause.

"Everyone knew."

Because everyone had.

Marian had never hidden it.

Not from herself.

Not from anyone.

The maid folded her hands together.

Thinking.

Then:

"But this is different."

Marian looked up.

Different?

The maid nodded toward the flowers.

Toward the note.

Toward Marian herself.

"You smile more."

Marian immediately frowned.

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

A pause.

"You’re also much more troublesome."

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

The maid remained entirely unrepentant.

Then her expression softened.

Just slightly.

"Before, you were happy when His Highness was happy."

The room became quiet.

Marian listened.

The maid continued.

"You always thought about what he wanted."

"What he needed."

"What would make him smile."

Marian lowered her gaze.

Because that wasn’t wrong.

Not at all.

The maid smiled.

"But now?"

A pause.

A very dangerous pause.

"You smile before Duke Ashford even enters the room."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Marian stared.

The maid looked victorious.

Again.

A terrible habit.

Yet for once, Marian couldn’t argue.

Because she knew exactly what the maid meant.

When had it happened?

She honestly didn’t know.

Somewhere between the forest.

The letters.

The conversations.

The moments she never expected to matter.

She had fallen.

Not gracefully.

Certainly not intentionally.

Just... fallen.

A ridiculous thing.

A dangerous thing.

And perhaps the most honest thing she had ever done.

For the first time in both her lives, she had chosen someone.

Not because of duty.

Not because of expectation.

Not because of inevitability.

Just because she loved him.

The realization made her smile again.

Helplessly.

The maid groaned.

"My lady."

"What?"

"You are hopeless."

Marian laughed.

A bright sound.

Light.

Unburdened.

For a moment she forgot everything else.

The engagement.

The politics.

The future.

Because when she thought about Cassian—

She wasn’t thinking about tomorrow.

Or next year.

Or the consequences.

She wasn’t thinking about becoming a duchess.

Or a crown princess.

Or anything at all.

She simply thought about him.

His smile.

His voice.

His eyes.

The way he looked at her as though she had chosen him and that fact alone mattered more than the rest of the world.

And suddenly nothing else seemed quite as important.

The realization startled her.

Because she had spent so much of her life thinking about the future.

Yet whenever she thought about Cassian—

She found herself thinking only about now.

And perhaps that was why she was willing to fight.

Not because the future was guaranteed.

Because it wasn’t.

Not because victory was certain.

Because it wasn’t.

But because she loved him enough that uncertainty no longer felt frightening.

The silence that followed was comfortable.

Until the maid ruined it.

As maids often did.

"What about His Highness?"

The happiness faltered.

Only slightly.

But enough.

The room grew quieter.

Because there it was.

The shadow waiting behind everything else.

Adrian.

Three days.

No letters.

No summons.

No decision.

No answer.

Nothing.

And somehow that worried her more than anger would have.

Marian looked toward the window.

Toward the distant palace beyond the city.

For eighteen years, she had always understood Adrian.

Even when they disagreed.

Even when they argued.

She understood him.

Now she didn’t.

And that uncertainty lingered.

Quiet.

Patient.

Waiting.

Much like the silence itself.