Elowen's Pov
The evening felt too large for me.
The chamber seemed to stretch as the hours dragged on, every corner filled with waiting. I stayed indoors as instructed, alone with the low crackle of the fire and the slow dimming of light beyond the windows.
Dusk bled into night, and I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded tightly in my lap, as though stillness might keep my thoughts from spiraling.
I thought of home.
Not with the sharp ache I had expected, but with something quieter. I missed the sound of familiar voices, the smell of earth after rain, the way life had once felt smaller and safer.
I missed it only slightly, and that frightened me. It felt like proof that this place was already changing me.
Time crept forward. The palace settled into its nighttime hush. Still, Cassian did not return.
When the door finally opened, the sound startled me so badly I stood at once.
He stumbled inside.
The sight of him stopped my breath. Cassian was unsteady on his feet, his steps uneven, his posture stripped of its usual rigid control. The sharp scent of wine filled the air, heavy and unfamiliar on him. His hair was loose, his collar undone, his expression dark and unfocused.
I had never seen him like this.
"You stayed inside," he said, his voice rough.
"Yes," I answered, wary.
He laughed softly, without humor, and shut the door with more force than necessary. For a moment he leaned against it, his head tilting back as though the wood were the only thing keeping him upright.
"Rowan's kingdom intends to go to war," he said suddenly. "If their prince is not returned."
My heart lurched. "Is he alive?"
Cassian's gaze snapped to me. "Alive," he said sharply. Then more quietly, "Not anymore."
He pushed himself away from the door and crossed the room, his movements tense despite the drink. His eyes found mine, and something in them made my skin prickle with unease.
I had never seen him unstable before. The realization made my chest tighten.
"I have never seen you like this," I said.
"That makes one of us," he replied. "I do not allow myself this often."
He stopped a few steps away from me. "They believe threats will make me yield," he continued. "They believe I will bend."
"I do not think you bend," I said, my voice barely steady.
His mouth curved faintly. "No. I break things instead."
The silence that followed pressed in on me. I felt small beneath it.
Then his gaze dropped, slowly, deliberately, as though he were truly seeing me for the first time that night.
"Come here," he said.
I did not move.
"Come here," he repeated, his tone harder. "Help me out of these clothes."
Fear bloomed cold in my chest. "You are drunk."
"I know," he said. "And I am tired."
He closed the distance between us in two unsteady strides. He did not touch me at first, but his presence alone felt suffocating. His breath brushed my cheek, warm and sharp with wine.
"I have held back," he said quietly. "Every day. Every night. For the sake of politics. For the king. For appearances." His voice wavered. "You have no idea what that costs."
"Cassian," I said, my words trembling, "this is not right."
"Do not pretend innocence now," he snapped. "You sit beside me. You wear my name. You let foreign princes look at you as though you belong to no one."
"That is not my fault," I said.
He laughed again, harsher this time.
"Everything becomes your fault eventually."
His hand closed around my wrist. Not painful, but firm enough to freeze me in place. My pulse thundered in my ears.
"Let go," I said.
His eyes searched my face, unfocused yet intent. "I cannot," he murmured. "I have reached the end of my restraint."
He leaned closer. Panic surged through me, and I turned my face away, pressing my free hand against his chest to keep space between us.
"Stop," I said, louder now. "You do not want to do this."
For a moment, something flickered in his expression. Conflict. Hesitation. His grip tightened briefly, then loosened.
"This is what you were brought here for."
"No," I whispered. "It is not."
The fire crackled behind us, loud in the stillness. I could feel his breath, his tension, the storm held just beneath his skin.
Then, suddenly, he released me.
I staggered back, my wrist burning where his fingers had been. Cassian turned away, dragging a hand through his hair, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly.
"Get out," he muttered. It sounded as though he were speaking to his own thoughts.
He crossed the room and sank onto the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
"I will not touch you like this," he said hoarsely.
I stood frozen where I was, my heart racing, my body trembling.
"You should sleep," I managed.
"So should you," he replied without looking up.
I retreated to the far side of the chamber, curling in on myself, my thoughts spinning wildly.
That night, I learned something I could not forget.
Cassian was not only dangerous because of his power.
He was dangerous because even he did not always control it.