Chapter One Hundred-Eleven – Silk and Snakes
Cass didn’t move for a long moment. The letter hung in her hand like dead weight, the lines written in Caius’s hand coiling tighter around her throat the longer she looked at them.
It was his handwriting. His tone. His careful restraint.
But not his heart.
She looked up at Alder, eyes glassy with confusion and dawning dread. "If Caius sent this... why wouldn’t he tell me himself? Why wouldn’t he at least say goodbye?"
Alder stepped closer, his voice like warm honey. "Because he knew you’d never leave willingly. He knew your heart was too bound to him. And he was right, wasn’t he? You would’ve stayed. You would’ve fought beside him even if it meant risking your life."
Cass said nothing.
He reached for a chair and pulled it beside her, sitting without asking. "Cass, I know what this looks like. But I’m not your enemy. I didn’t bring you here to cage you. I brought you here so you could finally breathe. Away from politics. Away from being a symbol."
She turned her gaze to him, wary. "Then why the locked door? Why the potion? Why not just ask me to come?"
Alder’s face was pure contrition. "Because Caius said you were spiraling. That you weren’t sleeping. That you were crumbling under the pressure. He told me he was afraid you’d lose the baby if you stayed."
Cass’s lips parted, stunned. "He said that?"
Alder nodded. "He said you were losing weight. That you’d stopped eating. That you cried yourself to sleep. I didn’t want to believe it. But when I saw you by the river... Cass, you were falling apart."
Tears welled in her eyes. She hated that part of her knew he was right.
"I only used the potion because I didn’t want to scare you. I just needed to get you somewhere safe. Somewhere... yours."
Her gaze flicked to the room. The softness. The details.
"You remembered everything," she murmured.
He smiled, small and quiet. "Of course I did. You weren’t just someone I let go. You’re someone I’ve never stopped seeing. Even when you couldn’t look at me."
Cass looked down, her hands on her belly. "I don’t know what to believe."
"Then don’t believe anything," Alder said gently, leaning forward, his voice a soft murmur meant to soothe and sink in. "Not him. Not me. Just rest. Let your body heal. Let your mind be quiet. You’ve fought hard enough, Cass. You deserve a moment without war in your veins."
He brushed a curl away from her cheek, slow and deliberate. "You can hate me if you need to. Scream. Cry. Curse my name. But be safe while you do it. That’s all I ask."
And for the first time since waking, Cass didn’t feel the urge to scream.
But that didn’t mean she trusted him.
Not yet.
Alder stood slowly and extended his hand. "Come with me," he said, tone light. "I’ve had something set up for us. I thought you might like some air."
Cass hesitated, then stood. She didn’t take his hand—but she followed.
They walked through a quiet corridor, sunlight warming the stone beneath their feet, until Alder led her through an archway into a private garden. Her steps faltered.
It was beautiful.
A linen-draped table stood beneath a canopy of flowering vines. Silver trays held warm breads, fruit, soft cheeses, and a steaming pot of her favorite tea. But it wasn’t the food that stilled her.
It was the garden itself.
Lush and vibrant, but not manicured. Wildflowers and weeds spilled over the edges of stone borders—flowers she’d picked as a child, weeds she used to braid into crowns. Dandelions. Clover. Queen Anne’s lace.
She blinked. "These are..."
"Your favorites," Alder finished, stepping beside her. "Most people would’ve picked roses. Something regal. I remembered what you told me once. In the palace garden. That weeds are just flowers that no one’s learned to love yet. Perfectly imperfect."
Cass looked at him, lips parting—but she didn’t know what to say.
"So I grew you a garden of weeds," he added, smiling faintly. "And maybe... a little hope, too. Because you said once that no one ever gave you something just because you were you. No strings. No politics. No expectations. Just love in the dirt. I wanted you to step into something that reminded you—you’re allowed to take up space, even if you’ve grown wild. Especially then."
Cass turned to him, suspicion lacing her soft voice. "Why are you doing this, Alder? Why go to all this trouble?"
His eyes didn’t waver. "Because I failed you once. I let you slip through my fingers when I should’ve fought. Now I have a chance to make things right. I want you to see the life you could have—free of expectations, free of all the people who only see your crown. I want you to know someone sees you. Not the Luna. Not the mother of an heir. Just Cass."
Cass’s expression faltered. Her voice came soft, uncertain. "And when will I see him again? When can I speak to Caius?"
Alder's jaw ticked, but his tone remained even. "Soon. Once the coronation settles and the court is secure. He can’t risk contact right now. The moment he can, he’ll reach out. But for now... we wait. That’s what he asked of me—and of you."