Elowen's Pov
I woke to a scent that did not belong to me.
It was crisp and unmistakably masculine, like rain striking cold stone, laced with pine and something faintly metallic. For a moment, I lay still, uncertain, my breath shallow as awareness crept back into my body.
Cassian.
He lay beside me.
The realization settled slowly, carefully, as though my mind feared what might happen if it arrived too quickly.
He was on his back, facing the ceiling, one arm resting near his side, the other bent at the elbow. The sheets barely covered him, as if even sleep could not fully claim him.
He looked… peaceful.
It was unsettling. More unsettling than his anger, more dangerous than his silence. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, untroubled.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, spilling over his face and softening the harsh lines I had come to associate with him.
I studied him before I could stop myself.
His lashes were thick and dark, resting against skin warmed to gold by the morning sun. The sharp cut of his cheekbones softened in sleep, and the tension that usually held his mouth tight had loosened.
A faint scar traced the line of his collarbone, pale and almost forgotten.
"He looks human like this," I thought. "Almost kind."
The warmth of him radiated through the bed, through the sheets, into me. It was intimate in a way I had not prepared for. Dangerous in its quiet.
My hand lifted before I realized it was moving.
Slowly, hesitantly, as if approaching something that might vanish if touched. I wanted to know if his skin felt as calm as it looked. If the hardness I feared dissolved beneath sleep.
I was inches away when his voice cut through the stillness.
"Don't."
The word stopped me cold.
His eyes remained closed.
My hand hovered, trembling. Heat rushed to my face, shame and fear tangling together. "I was only—" I began.
"You were reaching," he said evenly. "And that is not something you do without intent."
I drew my hand back to my chest, my pulse pounding. "I did not mean anything by it."
He shifted slightly, turning his head toward me, though his eyes were still shut. "Curiosity is a dangerous habit in this palace."
"I was curious because you were different," I said before I could stop myself.
That earned his attention.
His eyes opened slowly, grey and sharp, fixing on me with unsettling clarity. "What do you mean different?"
"You were quiet," I said softly. "Not angry. Not distant."
A pause. Long enough that I wondered if I had said too much.
"Do not mistake silence for safety," he said at last. "Or rest for weakness."
"I did not," I replied quickly. "I only thought…"
"You thought," he interrupted, his voice low. "And that is precisely the problem."
He pushed himself up onto one elbow, turning toward me fully now. The distance between us felt suddenly deliberate, measured.
"You are not here to interpret me," he said. "You are here to endure what I allow."
My throat tightened. "Then why share a bed at all."
His gaze sharpened, not with fury but with something colder. Calculating.
"Because appearances matter," he said. "And because fear is easier to manage when it understands proximity."
The words sent a chill through me.
"I am not afraid of you," I lied.
His mouth curved faintly. Not a smile. "You should be."
The silence stretched again, thick and suffocating. I stared at the ceiling, my earlier warmth replaced by unease.
Then came a knock.
Sharp. Formal. Inescapable.
Cassian's attention shifted instantly. He rose from the bed in one fluid motion, already composed, already armoured. The softness I had seen vanished completely.
"Enter," he commanded.
The door opened just enough for a guard to bow deeply. "Your Majesty. Her Majesty.
"The king summons you both for breakfast in his chamber. His orders."
Cassian inclined his head. "We will attend."
The guard withdrew.
Cassian dressed quickly, efficiently, as though nothing intimate had occurred between us. When he finally looked at me again, his expression was unreadable.
"You will prepare yourself," he said. "And you will remember this morning."
I swallowed. "Remember what."
"That curiosity is not harmless," he replied. "And that restraint is a choice I make."
Half of the time he speaks to me, I think it's some kind of threat.
He turned toward the door, then paused. "Do not test how long that choice lasts."
And then he was gone.
I sat there, the scent of him still clinging to the sheets, my thoughts tangled and unsteady.
"He sleeps like a man untouched by doubt," I thought. "And wakes like one who expects obedience."
I rose slowly, calling Brenna and Lysa to get me ready for the king breakfast. I didn't need to be told twice, not by Cassian.
Whatever this marriage was meant to be, it would not be gentle.
And neither, I feared, would he.