sit alone by the hearth, the weight of the diary heavier than anything I've held since the trial. The hall has cleared, though the whispers still ring in my ears. Cassian hasn't said much since we returned to our quarters. He knows this moment isn't for him; it's for me. Between me and the pages I once thought were mine alone.
The leather binding is cracked now, worn from hands that should never have touched it. I open it, bracing myself for memories.
The first few pages are harmless enough, musings from before the arranged marriage. My handwriting is delicate then, every word bearing the careful hope of a girl trying to convince herself she's ready.
"I have agreed to marry the Crown Prince… Cassian. A marriage in name, they said. For convenience. For my family's debt. I haven't even seen his face properly since the ceremony was announced. What kind of union begins in silence?"
Beneath the paragraph, in thick, slanted pen, Bako has written:
"Poor girl. He didn't even see you. But I did. From the moment you stepped into the palace, I saw all of you."
My stomach tightens.
I turn the page.
"Wedding day. No kiss. No smile. No husband in sight after the banquet. I returned to our chambers alone, still wearing the silk gown the seamstresses begged me not to wrinkle. I think I hate the scent of lilies now."
Bako's scrawl sits just below:
"He left a goddess untouched. What a waste. I would've worshipped you right there, still in that dress. Or out of it."
I press my hand to my mouth. My skin crawls.
Another entry. This one I remember clearly.
"This morning, I barged into his private chamber. I don't know what I expected but it wasn't him in bed with two girls. Wasted. Shirtless. One of them Stradling him. He saw me and said nothing. Nothing. I felt like a ghost in my own marriage."
Bako's writing returns, jagged now and emotionally charged.
"Spineless bastard. Doesn't deserve the curve of your wrist, let alone your fury. If I had you, I wouldn't leave that bed."
And then, as if that weren't enough, a crude line drawn across the bottom:
"You'd scream for me."
My throat closes. I turn the next page so fast it nearly tears.
The entry I fear waits next. The one I wrote about Ray; hastily and vaguely; when I feared someone might suspect something.
"I didn't mention Ray today. I couldn't. Not to anyone. Not in this place. They wouldn't understand; not the Queen, not Cassian. Not yet. My boy deserves more than whispers behind royal doors. When the time is right, I'll bring him into the light myself. Not before."
And underneath, in that same hideous scrawl, Bako has written:
"A child? You're full of surprises, Princess. Now that's something Cassian should've known before marrying you. But I get it… keeping your secrets close. If I had a son from another man, I'd hide him too."
There's a smiley face at the end. Crooked. Mocking. Almost triumphant.
My fingers tremble as I flip back and forth through the defiled pages. My entries; innocent, desperate, raw, turned into a playground for his perversion. He's taken my memories, my fears, and twisted them into some sick theatre of obsession. Every word I wrote with care is now stained with his dark thoughts.
My hands begin to shake.
I can't keep this.
I won't.
I stand abruptly, walk to the hearth, and without second-guessing, hurl the diary into the flames.
The pages catch fast, hissing and curling into blackened petals.
I watch it burn. Watch my thoughts go up in smoke. And with them, the last ounce of calm I've been clinging to.
The door opens behind me, heavy, urgent footsteps cross the floor.
Cassian.
"Celeste?" he says, voice sharp. "What…what are you doing?"
I don't turn. I can't. The flames reflect in my eyes, but my fury burns hotter.
"He defiled it," I say. "My diary. My words. He read every page. Wrote over them like he owned me. Like he… knew me."
Cassian comes beside me, glancing at the fire, then at my face.
I finally look up at him. "I feel violated," I say, my voice low. "Like I was stripped naked without ever being touched. Do you understand what that means?"
His jaw tightens, his eyes go dark.
"He's in the dungeons now," he says, voice deadly calm.
"But that's not enough," I mutter.
Cassian steps forward, draws me into his arms without hesitation. I don't resist.
"I'll handle it," he says, voice laced with quiet wrath. "He thinks he's seen what punishment looks like? I'll show him what it means to cross a royal… and what it costs to touch what is mine."
He holds me tighter, and I let myself sink into his warmth — not because it heals the damage, but because at this moment, I know I'm not alone in my rage.
The flames roar behind us.
So does something in Cassian's eyes.
Vengeance has just found its voice.
That night, after Cassian coaxes me into bed, after his arms wrap around me like a shield against the world's cruelty, I pretend to fall asleep.
He doesn't know I'm still awake; watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, feeling the storm that simmers beneath his skin. He holds me as if trying to fuse my shattered pieces back together. But something inside him is breaking, too. I feel it.
When he finally slips from the bed, careful not to wake me, I keep my eyes closed. His footsteps are soft, deliberate. He doesn't speak. Although he doesn't say where he's going, I know.
I know exactly where he's headed.
To the dungeons. To Bako.
The bastard who defiled my words. My memories. My privacy.
My sanctuary.
The moment the chamber door clicks shut behind Cassian, my eyes snap open. The silence stretches thick around me, almost suffocating in its stillness. The fire in the hearth has dimmed to a quiet glow, casting ghostly shadows that flicker across the walls like whispers I can't quite catch.
I lie still. Calm on the outside.
But inside, I am a tangle of nerves and noise.
Nancy's confession replays in my mind like a haunting refrain I can't silence. Her voice cracked and frightened as she revealed her father's unbridled ambition. About the attempt on my life. The network of deceit. And then, Bako, his dark obsession. The eyes that had always been watching me, unseen.
For three long months, I've lived with a shadow pressed against my back; a feeling that someone was always there, just out of sight. Watching. Waiting.
Now I know why.
And though it terrifies me…I also feel it, that small, sharp relief.
Like the first breath after drowning. The truth is out. At last. The veil has been pulled back, and the rot beneath the silk and ceremony of the palace has been exposed.
But peace doesn't come with revelation. Not really.
Because now I wait.
Wait to hear what Cassian will do.
Cassian, who held me tonight like I was sacred.
Cassian, whose eyes burned with a promise of vengeance.
I stare at the ceiling, every minute stretching like a thread pulled tight, ready to snap. Somewhere, in the cold depths below the palace, justice is unfolding. Or maybe something far darker.
The suspense coils in my chest.
And I can't help but wonder:
Will he return as the man who held me...
Or as the prince who made someone disappear?
I shut my eyes and listen.
But no footsteps come. Not yet.
Only the wind sighs through the cracks of the old stone walls.
And the fire fades… just as sleep refuses to come.