Elowen's Pov
The breakfast table was longer than any I had ever seen.
It stretched through the chamber like a polished river of dark wood, gleaming beneath the morning light pouring in from tall arched windows. Though it had many seats along its sides, only the two ends truly mattered. Power gathered there, heavy and unmistakable.
At one end, sat the king.
At the other sat Cassian.
Between them, noble councillors filled the length of the table, men dressed in muted finery, their expressions sharp and observant. Silver plates were arranged with precision. Platters of fresh bread, glistening fruit, roasted meats, and delicate pastries lined the centre. Goblets caught the light, filled with dark wine and pale juices. The smell alone should have been comforting.
It was not.
I sat at Cassian's right hand, the place of a wife, though I felt more like a symbol carefully positioned for display.
His presence beside me was solid and unyielding.
He did not look at me, yet I was acutely aware of him.
Of the space he occupied. Of the authority that seemed to radiate outward from his stillness.
I scanned the table quietly.
Sylvia was not there.
The absence struck me harder than I expected. No red silk. No knowing smile. No familiar proximity to Cassian.
Whatever she believed herself to be, she was not important enough to sit among kings and councillors.
But I was.
That knowledge settled something uneasy in my chest.
The king wasted no time.
His gaze slid to me, cold and appraising, as though I were a piece of furniture he had not chosen himself.
"So," he said, voice carrying easily through the chamber, "this is the girl Aurelian sends us."
My fingers curled beneath the table.
"We could have secured a far richer alliance," he continued. "A stronger house. Gold instead of sentiment. Power instead of pity."
Silence followed. Thick. Expectant.
My face burned, though I kept my chin lifted. I did not look at Cassian. I did not look away.
"She brings little," the king added. "A starving kingdom. A weak bargaining chip. It's hardly worth the effort of this union."
I felt each word like a strike.
Before I could speak, Cassian did.
"You are wrong," he said calmly.
The table stilled.
Cassian finally turned his head, his gaze lifting to meet the king's without hesitation. "She brings legitimacy. Stability. A bridge between two realms that have bled enough."
The king scoffed. "Idealism."
"Strategy," Cassian corrected. "And she is not as fragile as you suggest."
I swallowed, startled.
"You speak as though you know her," the king said.
"I know enough," Cassian replied. "And more than anyone at this table."
No one spoke. Councillors avoided one another's eyes. The air felt charged, brittle.
The king leaned back slightly. "You defend her quickly."
Cassian's voice did not waver. "I defend what is mine."
The word mine settled heavily in my chest.
Before the king could respond, the doors opened.
A guard entered, breathless, his armour clinking softly as he crossed the chamber. He bowed deeply and leaned toward the king, whispering urgently.
I watched the colour drain from the king's face.
He straightened slowly. "It seems," he said to the table, "that Prince Rowan of Eredyn is missing."
A murmur rippled through the councillors.
"Missing," the king repeated. "He did not return to his quarters last night. Nor was he seen leaving the palace grounds."
I felt it immediately.
The shift.
Cassian's body went still beside me. It's not tense. Not rigid. Focused. His presence sharpened, like a blade drawn from its sheath. I did not need to look at him to know it.
My heart began to race.
Prince Rowan.
The memory rose unbidden. His voice. His question. "Are you happy?"
Cold understanding crept over me.
Cassian said nothing. But the silence around him felt deliberate. Controlled. Dangerous.
I stared down at my plate, appetite gone, one thought echoing louder than the rest.
"He knows," I thought. "And if he does not know, then he has already decided."
Whatever had happened to Prince Rowan, I was certain of one thing.
Cassian had not missed it.