05 Ghosts of What Could Have Been

Cassandra’s POV

We rode like fugitives.

The night wind whipped against my skin, tangling my hair, pushing tears from my eyes that had nothing to do with the speed of the horse. Every thundering hoofbeat felt like rebellion, like freedom.

And beside me, Arden didn’t falter. He commanded his stallion like he was born in the saddle, steady, controlled, every line of him radiating strength.

He didn’t speak. Neither did I. But silence wasn’t empty with him. It was a storm waiting to break.

When we finally slowed, it was at a cliff ridge that overlooked the kingdom. Eldenwald sprawled beneath us, rooftops glittering under the moonlight, spires piercing the night sky, the royal banners barely flapping in the still air.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, breathless from the ride, from him.

Arden dismounted and stood at the edge, his coat flaring in the breeze, one hand tucked in his pocket. He looked like he belonged to the horizon, not this palace of cages.

“The world is far more beautiful,” he said quietly, his gaze never leaving the distance.

I turned to him. “You like it in Belmont?”

He nodded. “Sebastien and I run most of the tech and infrastructure there. It’s peaceful. Our mother’s homeland. No royal strings. No lies.”

Something twisted inside me. “When do you leave?”

His eyes flicked to mine, sharp, unflinching. “Why? Want to run away?”

I laughed, but it came out shaky. “What if I did? Would you help me?”

The question slipped out before I could choke it back.

He didn’t answer. Just looked at me, too hard, too long, until my chest tightened. Then he turned back to the view, silent.

The lack of answer was louder than a refusal.

I wished he’d said yes. That he’d pull me away from this palace, from Ivana’s poison, from Richard’s lies, from Rachel’s quiet triumph. That he’d give me a chance to breathe again.

But he didn’t. And I didn’t ask twice.

Some truths were too heavy to share.

We rode back in silence. The palace came into view, glowing like a gilded cage. As we entered the courtyard, Ivana appeared like a shadow summoned by spite.

“Well, well. She sneaks away with her husband’s brother.” Her voice was sugar dipped in poison.

My stomach turned. “We went horse riding,” I snapped.

“So discreet,” she crooned. “Away from everyone’s eyes.”

“I won’t take this,” I said sharply, louder than I intended.

“Oh, Sandra. You take everything too seriously. It’s only a matter of time before people start asking questions.”

She turned to Arden, venom dripping. “And you. Flirting with your brother’s wife like a tavern rogue. Shameful.”

Arden didn’t blink. He stepped closer, his voice low, dangerous.

“Ivana, I’m not in the mood for your games. And honestly?” His eyes locked with mine, holding me hostage. “If I did touch Cassandra…” His smirk curved, slow and merciless. “…she’d never go back to your spoiled son.”

The words ripped the air apart.

Ivana gasped, scandalised.

My pulse thundered. His gaze burned through me.

And God help me… I believed him.

“See you around, princess,” he said with a curl of his lips, before swinging onto his horse and riding into the night.

That one word ,  princess ,  tasted like sin on his tongue.

And I carried it with me long after he was gone.

I didn’t argue with Ivana. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even let her smug threats touch me.

I just walked inside.

Because if I stayed another moment, I might have begged him to take me with him.

Richard was waiting.

He was always waiting when the guilt caught up to him.

The moment I entered our wing, he rushed forward, his face painted with frantic apologies, his eyes desperate.

“Sandra, ” His voice cracked. “I swear, it wasn’t like that.”

I brushed past him, climbing the stairs without a word. But he followed, relentless, clinging to the one thing he still had over me: history.

“Sandra, please,” he begged, his voice echoing in the hallway. “You have to believe me. I never touched her. Not once. Rachel, she’s nothing to me. I just needed the children.”

I stopped at the bedroom door, my hand on the knob, my spine rigid. Slowly, I turned.

“You just needed the children?” My voice was steady, sharp. “And what did you do, Richard? Post a flyer: Wanted ,  womb for rent?”

He winced. “My mother found her. She said Rachel would be discreet. Obedient. Manageable. It was supposed to be clinical. Clean.”

“Manageable?” The word burned in my throat. “That’s how you describe the mother of your children?”

His face twisted. “Don’t let this destroy us. Please. We can still be happy.”

“Happy?” I laughed, bitter and hollow. “You built a family in secret. For four years. While I was bleeding in clinics, you were watching your children take their first steps. While I was crying over failed cycles, you were celebrating their birthdays. Were you ever going to tell me, Richard? Or were you planning to keep playing house until Ivana forced it into the open?”

His mouth opened, but nothing came.

My voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. Each word was a blade.

“When you sat beside me during appointments, when I broke down in your arms, did you think of me? Or were you picturing Rachel nursing the children I never got to carry?”

Tears stung my eyes, but I let them fall. Not for him. For me. For every part of me that had been sacrificed for a crown I never wanted.

“You let me believe I was the problem. That I was barren. When it was your low sperm count that brought us here. And still, you let me shoulder all the shame.”

His face crumpled. He dropped to his knees in front of me, desperate, pathetic.

“Sandra, please. I’m sorry. I’m begging you, don’t give up on us. I’ll do anything.”

I looked down at him, disgust curdling in my chest. “Are you begging for forgiveness? Or just begging me to stay quiet for your image?”

His silence was my answer.

He grabbed my arms suddenly, his mouth crushing against mine, frantic, almost violent in his desperation. His hands mapped my body, trying to find the places that once belonged to him, trying to remind me of who we used to be.

But I didn’t melt.

Not this time.

I stood there, stiff, unyielding, until he pulled back, breathless, broken.

“I promise, no more surprises. I’ll be honest from now on. I even asked the doctor if we could use your eggs. They said your body needed more time. Mother thought Rachel might change her mind if we waited, so we went ahead. It was stupid. I was desperate.”

Liar.

His excuses were too polished, too rehearsed. He’d had years to prepare them.

I turned away, climbing into bed without a word.

He slid in beside me minutes later, careful not to touch me, as if even he knew he no longer had the right.

We lay there like strangers. The chasm between us wide, cold, impossible.

He fell asleep eventually.

I didn’t.

Because Arden’s voice haunted me.

If I touched you, you’d never go back to him.

And the worst part?

I wanted to know if it was true.

The palace was quiet, the night thick around me. Richard’s steady breathing filled the silence, but it wasn’t comfort anymore. It was noise.

I stared at the ceiling until dawn broke, until the first rays of sunlight cut across the room.

And in that stillness, I made a promise to myself.

If Richard thought he could break me with lies, if Ivana thought she could silence me with fear, if Rachel thought she could replace me with obedience,

They were all wrong.

Because the only thing more dangerous than a queen betrayed…

Was a queen who had nothing left to lose.