04 The Wrong Brother

Cassandra's POV

I slipped through the inner corridor that connected Richard’s wing to the rest of the palace.

The marble floors gleamed under soft lighting, every surface polished to perfection, every hallway whispering wealth and legacy. But today, it felt like a prison. Every step echoed with Ivana’s voice, with Richard’s betrayal, with Rachel’s wide, careful eyes.

I needed air. Freedom. Anything that didn’t smell of lies.

I turned a corner too quickly and stopped dead.

Arden.

He stood like a wall in the middle of the hall, broad shoulders blocking the path as though the palace itself had conspired to throw him in my way.

For a heartbeat, the world stilled.

He was older now. Broader. Stronger. His coat hung open over a charcoal shirt, collar slightly askew, like he didn’t care for court’s suffocating polish. His jaw was sharper than I remembered, his face harder, carved by years of silence and distance.

And those eyes, icy cerulean, his mother’s eyes. They caught mine like they always had, and just like that, I was seventeen again, heart hammering at a banquet table as I dared to look too long at a prince I could never have.

“Cassy,” he said, voice smooth, calm, far too steady while mine trembled inside me.

The sound of my childhood nickname on his lips sent a ripple down my spine.

I pulled myself together, forced a smile that wasn’t shy or flirtatious. Just… familiar. “I thought you left after the court session.”

“I did. Came back this morning. Father’s request.” His gaze moved over me, calm, assessing, controlled.

I felt naked under it. Not physically. Worse. Emotionally.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Fine.” Too quick, too defensive.

One brow arched. He didn’t believe me. He never had. Arden had always noticed more than he should.

“I didn’t think you’d end up with Richard,” he said, voice flat. No judgment, no mockery. Just fact. “But the two of you were always close.”

I swallowed. What could I say? That Richard had noticed me first? That Arden had been my dream, but Richard had been the one who stayed?

“It made sense,” I said softly. “No one expected me to want anyone else.”

His gaze held mine, piercing. “You were young.”

“And you were distant.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

A chuckle rumbled from his chest. Deep, warm, unguarded. It wrapped around me like a memory, pulling me back to garden walks and quiet banquets where I’d wished, just once, that he’d reach for me.

“I had no business getting involved with a Montclair princess,” he said. “The court would’ve torn us apart.”

He wasn’t wrong. But the truth still stung.

“Are you angry about what happened in court?” I asked, searching his face. “About my father?”

He shrugged. “Not at all. I was hoping the crown would go to someone else. Sebastien didn’t want it either.”

That surprised me. “But it was your birthright.”

“Freedom is my birthright,” he said without hesitation. “Being king is a gilded cage. I’ve climbed the mountains of Takar. Dove from the cliffs of Myreth. You think I’d trade that for ceremonial robes and false smiles?”

The certainty in his voice left me breathless. He wasn’t lying. He would choose freedom over power. Always.

“I knew what was coming the moment they matched you with Richard,” he added, a faint, almost bitter smile on his lips. “Ivana’s always been ten steps ahead.”

“I was just another pawn,” I muttered.

His smile faded. For a flicker of a moment, something gentler crossed his eyes.

“You were never a pawn.”

The words lodged in my chest, heavier than they should’ve been. I wanted to laugh them off, brush them aside, but I couldn’t. Not with him looking at me like that.

Silence stretched, thick and dangerous.

Then, mercifully, he broke it. “You still terrible with horses?”

The question caught me off guard. “I’m not terrible.”

His lips twitched. “Still need help, then?”

Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me, fragile but real.

Eight years ago, he’d steadied me in the stables, his hand firm at my waist, his voice calm in my ear. I had never forgotten.

“No,” I said quickly. Firmer.

“Come on,” he said, already turning toward the exit. “You look like you need it.”

He didn’t know. He couldn’t. That my marriage had been reduced to ash. That Richard had paraded his mistress and children in front of me. That Ivana had demanded my silence like it was my duty.

He didn’t ask about any of it.

And maybe that was the only reason I followed him.

Because sometimes kindness was more dangerous than cruelty.

The stables were quiet, lanterns casting long shadows across stone. The air smelled of hay and leather, the faint whinny of restless horses echoing through the rafters.

Arden moved with the confidence of a man who had never been denied. Even the stable hands watched him with respect as he ordered two horses to be saddled.

He didn’t look at me as he mounted. “Ready?”

I wasn’t. Not for him. Not for this. But I nodded anyway.