Chapter 28
Jul 4, 2025
Cassian left before dawn. No war council. No formal blessing. Not even a word to the guards who lined the gates with frozen breath and twitching fingers. He mounted his horse beneath a sky still choked with night, his black cloak billowing like the wings of something unholy. He didn’t speak. Just rode, a blur of shadow and fury cutting through the snow-blanketed silence.
A guard shouted after him, confused. “Your Highness! Should we ready an escort?”
Cassian didn’t even turn his head.
His horse thundered over the frozen path, hooves drumming the frostbitten ground like war drums. Each breath from the beast came out in white puffs, and yet Cassian didn’t slow. The southern wind howled like it recognized his name, but he didn’t flinch. Not even when the woods twisted around him. Not even when the trees whispered.
He didn’t stop until he reached the southern pass, where a weathered merchant stood beside a crooked wagon piled with salt barrels, dried pelts, and empty flasks. The man looked up in alarm, blinking against the blur of snow as Cassian dismounted and approached.
“You’ve been near the lowlands?” Cassian asked. His voice was calm, but the kind of calm that made blood run cold.
The merchant hesitated, eyes darting to the Prince’s bare hands. No gloves. Just white knuckles curled tight around the reins. “Aye,” he said. “Passed Blackstone Ridge two days ago. Tough trading, but the silver’s good.”
Cassian stepped closer, snow crunching underfoot. “Did you see anyone taken?”
The merchant licked his lips, uncertain. “Depends what you mean, Your Highness. There’s always someone being dragged in chains these days.”
“A girl,” Cassian said, sharper now. “Dark hair. Small frame. Bruises on her wrists. Pale.”
The man paused. Squinted. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Valen’s men had someone with them. She was limping. Covered in dirt and blood. Could barely stand. They yanked her forward every few steps like she was nothing but—”
“Was she well?” Cassian interrupted.
The merchant nodded. “Bruised. But breathing.”
Cassian didn’t ask for more. He didn’t need it. That was all he required to confirm what his bones already knew. What the bond had screamed for hours now. She was alive. Alive and bleeding and suffering—and still his.
He turned without a word, mounted his horse in one fluid motion, and spun the beast around.
“Wait, Your Highness!” the merchant called. “Don’t you want—”
Cassian didn’t wait for the end of the sentence. His heels pressed into the horse’s sides and the stallion leapt forward, racing back toward the capital like the gates of hell had opened behind them.
The wind whipped through his hair. His vision blurred, but not from speed. From fury. His teeth clenched. His chest burned. The bond was no longer quiet. It pulsed in his ribcage like a war drum, like wildfire waiting to devour the sky. It pulled him south, faster, harder.
Lucy. Lucy. Lucy.
The name wasn’t a thought. It was a blade. A vow. A scream.
At one point, his horse stumbled on a ridge of ice. Cassian didn’t curse. He dismounted, ran beside the animal, his boots slamming the earth, his breath coming in sharp bursts. When the path cleared again, he swung back onto the saddle with bloodied palms and a feral gleam in his eyes.
He didn’t stop until he reached the cliffs overlooking the Capital.
The city lay ahead, blanketed in smoke. Soft coils of it curled into the pale sky like funeral veils. He narrowed his eyes.
He didn’t dismount.
He just stared, the weight of everything coiling inside him like a predator waiting to strike.
Behind him, the trees whispered. The wind shifted.
And Cassian closed his eyes, just once. Just long enough to breathe.
When he opened them again, they blazed silver.
There would be no more hesitation. No more diplomacy. No more silence.
He reached under his cloak, drew his dagger—not to use it, but to feel its weight. To remember what came next.
War.
He turned his horse slowly, the snow swirling at his feet.
Eyes blazing. Hands shaking.
The bond pulsing like wildfire in his chest.
