A white banner, an urgent message…
I remembered the book’s timeline. At this point…
My brother… something had happened to him.
My legs were still shaking when I got back to the Prince’s residence.
I grabbed the maids my family had sent with me and immediately dispatched them to gather news.
Just then, Trista returned, her cheeks flushed, looking as if she’d spent a pleasant day in a garden rather than at a soup kitchen.
“Sister, you’ll never guess,” she said, her voice bright with feigned excitement. “On my way back, I saw a royal messenger riding like the wind towa-
rds the palace. It must be major news from the front.”
She looked at me like a predator cornering its prey.
“You’ve always held your position over my head, forcing me to bow and scrape.”
A cruel smile touched her lips. “I can’t wait to see how you’ll fight me when the Valerius family has lost its precious general. Without your family, without the Prince’s favor, how long do you think you can last in this palace, Cassia?”
She was dropping all pretense.
My brother. it must be true. He was gone. But I had warned him
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My brother… it must be true. He was gone. But I had warned him.
My face remained a stony mask, but inside, a storm was raging. I didn’t even have the strength to fire back a retort.
At that moment, Prince Alaric emerged to greet Trista. Her expression shifted instantly.
“Your Highness,” she purred, melting against him. “I’m so tired from today’s charity work.”
She was soft and pliant in his arms, all traces of her earlier venom gone.
“I had the kitchen make you a special porridge,” she continued. “It’s not like the soup for the masses. I had them simmer it for hours. It’s smooth and rich. I know you’re used to grand feasts, but I’m sure you’ll appreciate this simple dish.”
Alaric played his part. “Then let us go and taste this special porridge.”
He cast a thoughtful glance at me. For weeks, he had paraded Trista in front of me, and for weeks, I had shown no reaction.
He almost seemed disappointed. It was as if I, his wife, had started treating him as if he were invisible.
“And how was the Princess’s day?” he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.
“My charity work went smoothly, Your Highness. You need not concern yourself. But the gruel the refugees drink would surely offend your palate. You needn’t trouble yourself over my bowl of soup.”
A flicker of frustration crossed his face. He wanted to see something else from me–jealousy, desperation, a complete breakdown.
But he found nothing.
I had never placed any hope in this man. I was done even pretending.
My mind was consumed with one thought: how to contact my parents and find out what had really happened to Damian.
We had a plan… what had gone wrong?
As for fighting for the Prince’s affection? Why would I fight for a man I didn’t love? True power was what mattered, and I intended to seize it.
