Chapter Sixty-Eight – Shattered Ties
Cass lay in the aftermath, her chest still heaving as the last echoes of her orgasm trembled through her limbs. Caius had pulled back, hovering, watching her like she was both a miracle and a curse.
She sat up slowly, clutching what was left of her torn dress to her chest, trying to mask the raw vulnerability that clung to her skin like sweat. "This didn’t mean anything," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Caius scoffed, dragging a hand down his face. "You really gonna lie to me again? After that?"
She stood on shaky legs, defiance flickering behind her eyes. "Yes. Because it has to mean nothing. I’m marrying Alder."
"You’re marrying power," he snapped, rising to his feet. "A man with no crown, no legitimacy—just ambition and secrets. But you’ll think of me every time he touches you."
Her jaw clenched. "And you? You gonna run back to Eira? To your neat little bond, your destined path? You had your chance, Caius. You made your choice."
He stared at her for a long time, and for a moment she thought he might say it—that one thing that would undo her. But he only stepped back.
"I came here to find you. To make sense of what this is. But now I realize there’s no sense to make. We destroy each other."
"Then stay destroyed," she hissed, the tears she refused to cry tightening her throat. "Go. Be with her. Marry her if it helps you forget me. Just know when you're inside her, when she whispers your name, it won't sound like mine. And when you're holding her at night, you'll remember how I trembled for you. You'll remember everything we burned through—and it'll never be the same."
He looked at her like she’d carved out his heart with her bare hands. But then his mouth curled, bitter and sharp. "You're right," he said. "She won't sound like you. She won’t look at me like she’s dying and surviving in the same breath. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I’m done bleeding for a woman who only knows how to cut."
He took a step back, eyes burning. "You want to play ice queen? Fine. Just don’t melt the next time I look at you like I still own every part of you."
And with that, he turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him like a final goodbye.
Cass dropped to the edge of her bed, the sob breaking free before she could stop it. She buried her face in her hands as her body shook, still tasting him on her lips, still burning from the ache he left behind.
And in the silence that followed, she realized the worst truth of all:
She had never stopped loving him.
And she had no idea how to survive the wedding.
The following morning marked the next ritual. The women of the court gathered in a sacred grotto carved deep into the stone cliffs beyond the castle—a place of ancient power and feminine tradition. The scent of blooming nightshade and crushed jasmine filled the air, mixing with the warm steam that curled from the mineral pools below.
Cass stood at the edge of the water, her robe slipping from her shoulders as the elder priestesses beckoned her forward.
One of them raised her arms to the sky, her voice deep and commanding. "Under the eyes of the Goddess of the Moon and the Mothers of the Earth, we prepare the bride for her sacred union. In this water, we wash away the burdens of the past. With these oils, we awaken the promise of life and legacy."
She turned to Cass, her gaze piercing. "You step now into your destiny. As Luna, as bearer of the new age, as symbol of our hope."
Cass stepped into the pool, warm mineral water curling around her ankles, then her thighs. The scent of sacred blossoms—ylang ylang, rose, myrrh—rose with the steam as priestesses circled her.
Warm hands began to anoint her skin with thick, shimmering oils—across her collarbones, her back, the swell of her breasts and the soft curve of her hips—each stroke slow, reverent, and deliberate. Every movement marked her with meaning: fertility, union, submission, reign.
Her skin glistened like polished bronze beneath the soft light of the grotto. A soft chant began to build, echoing off the rock walls in waves of rhythm and power, as the water rippled around her thighs.
Eira stood just beyond the mist, watching.
After the ritual, the women of the court remained in the pools, soaking in the sacred waters and bonding beneath the low-hanging vines and moonlit canopy. Laughter echoed softly through the grotto as they shared stories, braided one another's hair, and spoke of love, power, and legacy.
As the last chant faded into the warm mist and the priestesses withdrew, the women of the court remained in the sacred pools, their bodies relaxed and luminous beneath the dappled light. They floated in clusters, some sipping honeyed wine from carved stone cups, others whispering secrets and braiding flower crowns with slick fingers. The scent of oils clung to the air—amber, sage, crushed petals—while laughter rang out like chimes.
Through the steam, Eira moved closer to where Cass reclined against the smooth edge of the stone pool, her hair slicked back, her eyes distant.
Eira's voice was barely audible over the trickling of the springs. "You should let him go."
Cass didn’t answer.
Eira's tone sharpened. "You pretend you're marrying Alder for duty, for survival, but I see it in your eyes. You won't let Caius go. Not even after last night."
Cass met her stare, emotionless. "You know nothing about last night."
"I know everything. I can feel it in him. I felt it the moment I found him. His guilt. His hunger. His confusion." Eira’s voice cracked. "You haunt him. And I—I’m the one left picking up the pieces."
Cass turned back to the water, letting the oils slide down her skin like armor. "Then don’t."
Eira flinched.
"If he loved you, you wouldn’t have to fight this hard to keep him."
The silence between them festered like a wound.
Eira stepped back, the ache in her chest turning to fury. And as the women began to chant and bless the bride-to-be, the tension between them rippled beneath the surface—unspoken, but undeniable.