Chapter One Hundred Two - A Fragile Smile
Cass sat curled on the velvet settee in the sunlit sitting room, a book in her lap and a mug of tea cooling at her side. For a rare moment, everything felt still. Safe. She could hear the distant sounds of the palace—guards changing shifts, servants laughing in the courtyard—but none of it touched her here. Not in this small sanctuary she’d carved out for herself.
The door creaked open.
Cass looked up.
Alder stood in the threshold, his expression unreadable but his presence unmistakably calculated.
"Lady Cass," he greeted smoothly, stepping inside without waiting for permission. "I hope I’m not interrupting."
Cass offered him a polite smile, folding the corner of the page she was reading. "Not at all. I was just stealing a moment."
He gestured toward the chair across from her. "May I?"
She nodded, wariness creeping in behind her easy expression. "Of course."
Alder settled into the chair with a quiet sigh, studying her for a moment before speaking. "You look well. Glowing, actually."
Cass smiled softly, resting a hand over her belly. "The pup keeps reminding me they’re in there. They’ve become very good at kicking at all hours."
"Caius must be over the moon."
She nodded, her smile growing more genuine. "He is. He talks to them every morning. Sometimes I think they kick just to hear his voice."
Alder’s gaze lingered on her for a beat too long before he leaned back, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. "It’s good to see you this way. Content. You deserve that."
He paused, jaw tightening before he added quietly, "Even if it kills me to say it. Because I still love you, Cass. I never stopped."
Cass tilted her head, sensing the undertone in his voice. Her fingers tightened slightly around her tea cup. "Alder... you don’t get to say that now. Not when everything’s changed. Not when I’ve finally found peace."
Her voice remained calm, but her eyes sharpened. "What we had—it was real, once. But it’s gone. I’m not the girl who used to wait for you to choose me. And I won’t let you confuse what I’ve built with Caius just because you finally decided to speak up."
She set her tea down slowly, her gaze steady. "Do you know when I stopped loving you, Alder? It wasn’t when you chose duty over me. It was the night of the pre-wedding ritual—when I felt our bond wither while you were off rutting with three she-wolves like our future meant nothing."
Alder’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t let him speak.
"You nearly killed me," she continued, voice sharp. "The pain of a broken bond—it shattered something inside me. If Caius hadn’t formed the bond to save me, I wouldn’t be here. Our pup wouldn’t be here. You lost me that night, Alder. And you don’t get to pretend you didn’t."
Alder’s face twisted with guilt, and without a word, he dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands reached for hers, but he stopped short, his voice breaking. "I know I lost you. I know I don’t deserve anything from you—not your kindness, not your forgiveness. But if I can’t be your mate... please, Cass. Let me be your friend. Let me stay close. Even if it hurts."
Cass looked down at him, torn between heartbreak and clarity. Her heart, still bruised but far from bitter, softened at the desperation in his voice.
She nodded slowly. "You can be my friend, Alder. But that’s all that’s left for us. That’s all there’s ever going to be."
Alder smiled faintly, almost sadly, and rose from the floor to sit beside her on the settee. "What are you reading?" he asked, his voice softer now, stripped of all the bravado.
Cass glanced down at her book and offered a small smile. "It’s a collection of stories from the old court—tales my mother used to read to me. It calms the pup."
As if on cue, a sharp kick pressed against her ribs. She let out a small gasp and placed her hand on her stomach.
"Was that—?" Alder asked, his eyes lighting up.
She nodded. "They’ve been active all morning."
He hesitated. "May I?"
Cass paused, then slowly guided his hand to the curve of her belly. A moment later, another soft kick pulsed beneath his palm.
Alder stilled. A thousand emotions flickered across his face—wonder, longing, something darker.
In his mind, one thought bloomed like poison: I’ll be a better father than weak, simpering Caius ever could be. This child deserves strength. A legacy.
But aloud, he only whispered, "They’re strong already."
Cass nodded, unaware of the war behind his smile. "They are."
Like a thread pulled too tight, the moment snapped.
The door flung open.
Caius stepped in, and the second his eyes landed on Alder’s hand resting on Cass’s stomach, something primal surged through him. A low growl rumbled in his throat, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Alder’s hand stilled, but he didn’t move.
"Get your hand off my mate," Caius said, voice edged with restraint that trembled under his fury.
Cass sat up quickly, placing a calming hand on Caius’s arm. "It’s not what it looks like—he just wanted to feel the baby kick."
But the damage was done. Caius’s eyes were locked on Alder, seething.
"You don’t get to touch what isn’t yours," he said darkly, stepping further into the room.
Alder slowly stood, calm on the surface but smug just beneath. "I asked. She said yes."
Cass rose to her feet, positioning herself between them. "Enough. Caius, please. It was innocent."
Caius didn’t speak again for a long beat, but the air between them was thick with fury. Then his voice came, low and clipped. "You will never touch my mate or my child again."
Cass turned sharply, anger flashing in her eyes. "You don’t get to decide that for me, Caius. I’m not a possession you can lay claim to whenever it suits you. Alder is a friend—nothing more. And I’m allowed to have friends."
Caius’s jaw clenched, but he held her gaze, the storm inside him barely held at bay.