CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CasimirBainbridge.
CasimirBainbridge.
Casimir Bainbridge.
I try to cope with the shock and anguish this revelation brings. My slippers hit the stone as I run, the sound of my footsteps echoing down the corridor. Opening the door to my room, I slam it shut behind me and press my back against it like a barricade.
“I can’t breathe.” Panic shoots through me as I pace around the room. My fingertips rub at my temples to ease the tension. “I can’t—what am I supposed to do now?” I whisper to myself in a frenzy, my mind spiraling. “Think… think…” I repeat, but no ideas come to mind.
The walls feel like they are closing around me. No matter which corner of the room I walk to, it restricts me more. Walking faster, I trip over my gown, my arms flinging out as I try to break my fall. A cry of pain leaves me as I hit the floor, my chest so constricted that every breath is painful.
Tears sting my eyes as I push myself upright, the heavy skirt engulfing my legs and torso. My fingers fumble behindme, clawing at the corset strings. The fabric bites into my skin as I tug and twist, my breaths coming shorter with every failed attempt. Panic rises, hot and choking. I twist harder, nails scraping against the laces, until, at last, one gives way, and the air rushes back into my lungs. Standing, I pull off the dress and stay in my chemise, the cold air settling across my skin. I tuck the gown into the tall wardrobe and step back slowly, trying to calm my racing heart.
It isn’t even about the book—the fact that he wrote it. It is this undeniable urge neither of us can resist, drawing us to each other. I should want him gone, should be able to expel him from my desires… but I can’t. Instead, I find myself craving the sound of his rugged and baritone voice, desperate to feel the way his hands caress my skin. He worships my body perfectly—rough and unrestrained—and I can still feel his touch lingering on my skin.
I lie down to rest but end up staring at the ceiling. Wrath—Casimir—saw the parts I keep so hidden that even I have forgotten they are under lock and key. He broke past every barrier and unchained my embered soul. He saw my darkness and matched it with his own—neither afraid nor repelled but drawn to it.
The light trickles through the curtains in my room, dawn inching ever closer. I can’t shake the realization that I have metthewarlord. He is real, not some figment of my imagination that I spent years studying. There is a man behind those words on the page—and it’s the man I am magically tied to, perhaps permanently. I give up sleep, get out of bed, and dress myself. My eyelids feel heavy, my mind numb from racing in circles. There is no point in wallowing anymore; I must formulate a new plan.
I scan the map Casimir gave me until I find what I’m looking for—the dovecote. I exit my room, quickly headingtowards the west wing of the castle. I’m vigilant in the corridor, trying to find an exit. I spot a gate, pushing it open and heading toward a small building at the edge of the inner bailey.
I step inside, looking around for someone who can help me. I notice an older Elvarran, his skin dotted with age spots and hair white as snow. His brown eyes meet mine, and he smiles at the sight of me, a pigeon perched on his right hand.
“Hello, Princess,” he greets me warmly.
“H-hello.” I blink in surprise, wondering how he knows who I am. “And you are?”
“Irving Kinley of Myragos.” He bows politely. “How can I be of service?”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I reply graciously, eyes scanning the room for any sign of Sebastian’s seal stamped on a letter. “Did you receive any correspondence from the Duke of Ashvarin?”
Sebastian said he dispatches letters every firstday, which would be tomorrow. His letter will send my brother’s fury into a tailspin, and I know he will march north immediately to free me from my captors. I don’t want to make him fight an unnecessary battle, not when I’m planning to escape the North soon. If I can swipe the letter from the pile, that will prevent Valentin from knowing my location.
“Unfortunately, I am not allowed to share that information with you, Princess.” Irving pets the bird before setting it down on a perch.
“Of course.” I give him a friendly smile. “And if I wanted to send something myself?”
“The King has to approve it,” Irving replies. “With his seal.”
Damnit.
“Thank you.” I nod my head. “Have a lovely day.”
I turn, exiting the dovecote and returning to the castle. There are a few stray servants and guards who pass by me in the halls, but I pay them no mind. How can I prevent that letter from reaching Valentin now? It isn’t as if Casimir will let me send a letter to my brother directly, not when he has made it clear that he wants me to stay here.
That’s when it comes to me.
Aurelia.
Heading straight to the kitchen for breakfast, I open the door to see Bryn kneading a large ball of dough. Aurelia cuts vegetables, humming a soft melody to herself. She appears joyful despite the early hour, her attention fixed on her work.
“Morning,” I greet them warmly. My gaze scans the crates of food, wondering if Lord Cerian did as I demanded.
“Morning, Raelys.” Aurelia smiles, picking up a bowl and filling it with porridge for me. “You’re up earlier than normal.”
“Thank you.” I take it from her. “Yes, I’ve come to speak with you. Do you have a moment?”
