Benedict finally started to suspect Cassian.
It wasn't a sudden flash of insight—it was more like an itch in the back of his mind that kept getting worse the more he thought about it. He'd been telling himself over and over, We're comrades. We've fought together. He's on my side. But no matter how many times he repeated it, the words didn't feel steady anymore.
The wedding… Cassian leaving Annora at the altar… the timing. It didn't sit right.
Benedict knew Cassian was calculating—he'd always been—but this felt different. This felt personal.
He replayed everything in his head. The way Cassian hadn't even looked surprised to see him at the palace earlier. The way he dismissed his claims of being under control without a second thought. The way he had smiled—not warmly, but like someone who already knew every move on the board.
