Love conquers all!

11-The Aftermath

CASSIA

They burned the linens first.

The ivory bedsheets with gold embroidery. The lace veil Blair was to wear tomorrow. The silk slippers custom-made from Maribelle’s finest weavers. All of it gone to ash in the courtyard pyre before dawn, under the bloodshot eyes of the king.

The smell carried through the palace like a funeral hymn. Smoke and jasmine. Love and betrayal.

I stood by the window, half-hidden behind the drapes, watching the flames twist into the pale morning sky. The servants didn’t speak. They just fed the fire in silence, their faces drawn and pale, as if afraid that one careless word might brand them traitors too.

“The princess is gone,” someone whispered near the gates.

“With him.”

They didn’t need to say his name. Roan.

Of course it was Roan.

It had always been Roan.

I closed the shutters before the tears could sting my eyes. My hands trembled—not from fear or shock, but from something much uglier.

Jealousy.

Blair had chosen freedom. Chosen love. Chosen him.

And I was still here—polished, obedient, painted in gold. Still trapped in a kingdom that only ever demanded perfection.

---

The palace had changed overnight.

Where there had once been laughter and light, there was now silence so heavy it pressed against the walls. Servants scurried like ghosts, avoiding eye contact. Courtiers whispered in doorways. The corridors smelled of candle smoke and iron, like grief left too long to curdle.

I passed by Blair’s room.

Empty. Ransacked.

The bed was stripped bare, the curtains torn. Her dresses those pale blues and silvers she loved were gone, burned or hidden. The crown she once wore at coronations lay shattered against the marble floor, one gemstone missing.

I knelt, picking up a piece of the broken gold. It still glimmered faintly, catching the light like a tear.

“She’s really gone,” I whispered to no one.

The words felt heavier than truth.

I had helped her.

That thought came like a knife.

I had helped her escape. Held the candle while she packed her dress, whispered routes through the stables, pressed the scarf into her hands and said, “Go before anyone wakes.”

And still, I’d stayed behind.

Why?

Because someone had to keep the story straight. Someone had to survive.

---

By midday, the Queen’s screams echoed through every wing of the palace.

They said grief makes people quiet. That wasn’t true of her.

Her voice thundered through the marble halls, sharp and cracked and raw. “Find her! FIND HER!”

I stood by the stairwell, hidden in the shadow of a column, as she tore down a tapestry with her bare hands. The threads snapped like cries.

“She was mine,” the Queen sobbed. “My daughter. Mine.”

And yet she had never treated her like that. Not really.

She had shaped Blair like a jewel meant to glitter for the court, not a girl meant to live. She taught her duty, not joy. Command, not kindness. And now the same woman who had caged her wept because the bird had flown.

For a moment, I almost pitied her.

Almost.

Because there was still a part of me that wanted to see her break. The same part that wanted to see the world burn for what it had done to Blair.

---

That night, the palace was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that hums under your skin, whispering that something is about to happen.

I couldn’t stay in my room. The walls felt too close, the air too heavy. So I slipped out, barefoot, through the servant’s corridor, past the kitchen where the ovens glowed faintly with dying embers.

I needed air. I needed space. I needed not to feel like I was still in her shadow.

The moon hung low over the courtyard when I found him.

A tall figure stood near the training yard, pacing slow, measured steps across the gravel. His coat was dark, his blade strapped across his back, his presence sharp enough to cut through silence itself.

General Reese.

The Hawk.

I knew him by reputation long before I ever heard him speak. Roan’s closest ally. The man who’d saved him in the siege of Cornelia. The strategist who never missed a mark.

He looked nothing like the stories.

No armor. No command. Just a man caught between fury and despair, staring at the horizon like it might give him an answer.

I hesitated at the edge of the yard.

Maybe I should’ve turned back. Maybe it wasn’t my place. But something in his stillness—too contained, too dangerous—pulled me forward.

“General Reese?” I said softly.

He turned so fast I flinched. His hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword before he realized who I was.

“Lady Cassia,” he said, his voice rough around the edges. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Neither should you,” I replied. “But we’re both here, aren’t we?” I stared at his auburn hair and that dusky skin.

He studied me for a moment—those sharp eyes like stormlight. “You’ve got courage walking up to a man in a mood like mine.”

“I’ve faced worse,” I said before I could stop myself.

His lips twitched half amusement, half disbelief. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I said. “Try surviving the Queen’s breakfast when she’s angry.”

That earned the faintest smirk. A shadow of warmth.

But it vanished as quickly as it came.

He turned back to the training yard, jaw tight. “He didn’t tell me,” he said. “Not a word.”

“Roan?”

Reese nodded once. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “When and how did he plan this? And not once did he breathe a word. He just left.”

There was bitterness in his voice. But beneath it, grief.

“He didn’t tell anyone,” I said quietly.

Reese’s jaw flexed. “He should’ve told me. I could’ve protected them. Covered their tracks. Fought whoever came after.”

I took a breath, then said softly, “Maybe that’s why he didn’t.”

He turned to me then really looked at me. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but behind the fury was something raw.

“What do you mean?”

“Because you would’ve stayed behind,” I said. “You would’ve fought for him instead of with him. And he didn’t want that. He wanted you to live.”

His expression faltered. Just slightly.

He looked away, toward the moon. “He was always the reckless one,” he murmured. “Always running toward danger while I tried to pull him back.”

“And now he’s gone,” I said.

The silence that followed was heavy, but not cruel. Just… real.

For the first time that day, I didn’t feel alone.

---

We stood there for a long while, saying nothing. The night wrapped around us like a shroud, the air cold enough to sting.

The courtyard was almost beautiful silver light on stone, the faint shimmer of frost at the edge of the grass.

But there was no peace here. Only aftermath.

Finally, Reese broke the silence.

“Do you think they’ll make it?”

I hesitated.

“Blair is stubborn,” I said. “And Roan would burn the world for her. If anyone can survive out there, it’s them.”

He nodded slowly, eyes still on the horizon.

“I want that,” he said at last, his voice quieter now.

“What?”

He didn’t look at me. “That kind of madness. That kind of love. Even if it means losing everything else.”

My throat tightened.

“Me too,” I said.

And it was true.

For the first time, I admitted it to him, to myself. I envied her not just because she escaped, but because she chose something real.

---

Reese exhaled, the sound rough in the stillness. “The Queen’s put a bounty on them already. Every border post, every garrison. If they’re caught…”

He didn’t finish.

I saw his hands tremble.

“They won’t be,” I said quickly. “Not if you and I have anything to do with it.”

That made him turn to me again. “You’d risk that?”

“I already have,” I said simply. “I helped her go.”

For a heartbeat, the world went still. His eyes widened surprise, disbelief, something else flickering behind them.

“You?” he asked, his tone low. “You helped her?”

I nodded. “I owed her that much.”

He studied me like he was seeing me for the first time. Like I was no longer some court ornament or noble’s daughter, but someone capable of fire.

Then, quietly, he said, “You’re braver than you look.”

“And you’re more human than you pretend to be,” I countered.

For the first time, his mouth curved into a real smile.

It was small. Crooked. But it was there.

The clock tower tolled midnight, the sound echoing through the courtyard.

We both turned toward the noise two fugitives still trapped within the palace walls, watching the world outside slip further away.

I wondered if Blair was looking at the same moon. If she was free yet, or if she’d already begun to realize that freedom comes with its own kind of chains.

Reese’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Stay away from the Queen tomorrow,” he said. “She’s unraveling. If she finds out you were involved—”

“She’ll have me executed?” I finished with a soft laugh. “Maybe. But I don’t regret it.”

He frowned. “You should. You’re too valuable to throw yourself to her wrath.”

“And you’re too careful,” I said. “Maybe that’s why Roan left first.”

That silenced him.

For a long time, we just stood there again, the quiet stretching thin.

When I finally turned to go, his voice followed me.

“Cassia,” he said.

I stopped.

“If they send me after them… if the Queen orders it…”

I looked over my shoulder. “Will you obey?”

His expression was unreadable. But his eyes those storm green eyes held the truth.

“No,” he said at last.

And that was the first time I truly believed there was hope left in this cursed kingdom.

When I returned to my room, the first light of dawn was already bleeding into the sky.

The fire in the courtyard had gone out, leaving only smoke and the faint smell of charred silk.

The world felt quieter somehow. Not healed, but waiting.

I sat by the window, my reflection pale against the glass, and whispered into the morning air:

“Run, Blair. Run fast. Run far. Don’t look back.”

Then I added, quieter still, “And maybe someday, I’ll find my own way out too.”

Outside, a hawk cried over the rooftops.

I smiled.

Somewhere beyond these walls, a new story was already beginning.

And maybe just maybe so was mine.