I sit in class, my pen hovering over my notebook, my mind split between the lecture and the ghosts of my past. The tutor's voice drones on about promissory estoppel; how the law holds people accountable for promises they make, especially when others rely on them to their detriment.
I almost scoff. Queen Morgana would never survive under such a principle. She promised me security, a place beside her son, a future. Instead, she used me, discarded me, and let me take the fall.
Meeting her was my biggest mistake. But mistakes can be corrected.
It's been two weeks since I walked away from the palace; two weeks of peace, of healing, of relearning what it means to be free. My family, the only people I can trust, have been my refuge, helping me forget the cruelty I endured.
I tell myself I've moved on, but some part of me still lingers in that world. I miss my library, the only thing good in the Matica palace; the quiet sanctuary where I once felt powerful and worthy. I miss him - the Judge King.
I exhale sharply and force my attention back to my tutor. He's dissecting the law, unaware that my mind is spinning its own case.
Esther had called days ago. "The palace is like a graveyard without you." Her words echoed in my head. Cassian had disappeared too, retreated to his hideout, no doubt. Typical. He always runs.
But it's no longer my concern. He made his choice, just as I made mine.
Still, there's unfinished business. The Queen.
I glance down at my notes, gripping my pen tighter.
One day, I'll make her pay. Maybe when I graduate. Maybe when I wear the robes of a judge, just like him, the king.
And when that day comes, I will be the one writing the verdict.
Classes are over, and I make my way to the cafeteria, craving something cold to wash down the stress of the day. A few classmates and I settle into easy conversation, laughing over nothing in particular.
Then, I feel it.
A presence.
My instincts sharpen. My laughter dies mid-sentence as my eyes scan the room. And there he is; Cassian. Sitting in a dimly lit corner, his gaze locked on me like a predator sizing up its prey.
My stomach clenches. What the hell is he doing here?
I force myself to remain calm, gathering my bag and phone as casually as possible. "I'll see you guys later," I say, barely registering their goodbyes before I stride toward the exit.
I make it to my car, fingers gripping the door handle ….
Then he's there.
Blocking my way.
"Celeste." His voice is low, firm. "I've been waiting for you for an hour. We need to talk."
He's too close. His scent, familiar cologne laced with something else. Alcohol? Smoke? It's suffocating. I take a step back, putting space between us.
"Talk about what?" I sneer.
"Us."
I laugh; short, sharp, bitter. "There is no us. There never was."
His jaw tightens. "That's not true."
"Isn't it?" I tilt my head mockingly. "Look, I know you think I'm still hurting, but let me clear that up for you; I'm not. I'm good. I'm living my dream, Cassian. I'm happy."
He takes a breath, as if preparing to argue, but I don't let him.
"Go back to your palace. To your games. To your women. And don't ever worry about Celeste again."
His lips part, his hands clench at his sides but I don't give him the chance to respond.
I yank open my car door, jump in, and slam it shut. The engine roars to life, and I speed off, leaving him standing there, watching me.
Watching me leave him behind.
I get home and head straight to the kitchen, rolling up my sleeves. Since I moved back, I've made myself useful; cooking, cleaning, anything to feel grounded. No more lounging in cold, silent chambers waiting to be served. Here, I serve everyone, and that's fine.
But tonight, I'm a little too loud. Pots clatter, cabinet doors slam, and my chopping is aggressive enough to make the cutting board shake.
"You're in a bit of a temper today, Celeste," my mother calls from the terrace, where she's helping Ray with his school assignments.
I don't answer.
I know what's wrong. Cassian. He ruined my day.
Mom must have heard my knife scrape against the board because she steps inside, watching me carefully. "Watch your fingers, Celeste."
"I got it, Mother," I mutter, slicing through a carrot with a little too much force.
She doesn't leave. Instead, she folds her arms and leans against the counter. "Alright. What is it?"
I sigh. There's no hiding from her. "I saw him."
"Who?"
I give her a look. "Cassian."
Her eyebrows lift slightly, but she stays quiet.
I exhale sharply. "He was at school. In the café. Sitting there, waiting for me."
"And?"
I shake my head. "Said we needed to talk."
Mom doesn't respond immediately. Instead, she studies me, her lips curving into something suspiciously close to amusement. Then, she says, "That's a good thing."
I nearly drop the knife. "What?" I spin to face her. "How is that a good thing?!"
She smiles knowingly, tapping my shoulder. "It means one thing, Celeste; he's not as inhuman as he pretends to be. He feels something. Guilt. Maybe even regret. And he misses you."
I scoff. "Cassian? Miss me? I seriously doubt that."
She just chuckles and walks away, leaving me standing there, frowning at the absurdity of it all.
After dinner, I retreat to my room, determined to bury myself in my studies. My mother's words from the kitchen still echo in my head. He feels guilty. He misses you.
I shake my head. Ridiculous. Cassian isn't capable of guilt. Or missing me.
I flip open my law textbook, trying to focus on promissory estoppel, but the words blur together. I sigh, shut the book, and reach for my phone, scrolling through messages; nothing new, nothing interesting.
Then, it vibrates.
A message.
From him.
Cassian: I know you must think I'm a monster and hate me so much now. Give me a chance to prove to you I'm not.
I stare at the screen, reading it once. Then again.
A chance? Now? After everything?
I exhale slowly, thumb hovering over the reply button. But what would I even say? That I don't hate him, just the way he made me feel, like I was nothing? That a part of me still wonders what it would've been like if things had been different?
No.
I lock my phone, place it facedown on my nightstand, and lie down. I tell myself I won't think about him anymore tonight.
I fall asleep.
In my dream, I'm in the palace.
It's eerily quiet, the halls dimly lit by flickering sconces. I walk forward, my footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Something is wrong. The air is thick, heavy, pressing against my chest.
I reach the grand throne room, but the doors are slightly open. Shadows flicker inside. A woman's voice, whispering. Liliana? No, not just her. There are others.
I push the doors open.
Cassian stands at the center, his back to me. He's dressed in royal robes, a golden crown resting on his head.
He turns.
His eyes are cold. Empty.
Behind him, Queen Morgana sits on the throne, a satisfied smile on her lips. At her feet, Liliana kneels, dressed in white, her head bowed as if waiting for something.
"Cassian?" My voice trembles.
He steps forward, gaze unreadable. Then he extends his hand, not to me, but to Liliana.
She lifts her head, smiling. And as I stand there, frozen, he places a ring on her finger.
The doors behind me slam shut.
I turn, but there's no way out.
I'm trapped.
And Cassian never even looks back.