Tears blurred her vision as she darted from the library, tripping over her skirts, her hair coming loose from its pins. Cassia didn't pay attention to where she was going, just so long as it was away from him.

She hardly dared to breathe as she all but ran down the halls, afraid it would catch in her throat and release the sobs building in her chest.

It had been one thing to think he hated her. One thing to hear Vestarin say as much. But to see his face—to see him barely able to meet her eyes and flinching away—that had been more than she could bear.

The soldier she had spoken to—Calion, she believed his name was—had been reluctant to tell her any details. He had told her what had happened in Antelium, but only in the barest of terms, his grey eyes narrowed in suspicion the entire time.

Julianus' words about what he had done to the crucified men and why he'd done it had been like daggers in her heart.

He was a man who had no love for either hunting for sport or executions because he simply did not believe in striking someone who could not defend themselves. She couldn't even imagine the agony he must have felt cutting down not just one, but twenty-nine defenseless men.

He had gone against the very grain of what he was because of her order. Her reckless, stupid, naive order. And then he'd been beaten for it—brutally and publicly whipped.

It was little wonder that he had grown to hate her in the span of those days.

A tear streaked down her face and she bowed her head, trying to wipe it away discreetly. 

The breath was knocked clean out of her when she slammed into someone as she rounded a corner. Cassia stumbled backward, but strong hands gripped her arms and kept her from tumbling to the ground.

She looked up, shocked and horrified to find Marcus staring at her. Tears still pooling in her eyes, she looked down and tried to jerk away from her brother, but he did not release her.

Instead, his grip on her arms tightened. Cassia blinked furiously, holding her breath as more tears swelled in the back of her throat.

Carefully, Marcus let one arm go to lightly grasp her jaw. He tilted her head back so she was staring right into his eyes.

Her breath finally escaped in a surprised puff of air when he flicked one of her tears away with his thumb. His hold on her face relaxed until only one finger brushed the underside of her jaw, but it was enough to keep her from looking away.

Cassia forced herself not to flinch under his intense scrutiny. She barely blinked when he brushed another tear away.

Marcus tilted his head, a frown twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Has dear Elias finally come clean then?" he asked softly. "Another casualty in your crusade?"

Despite her best efforts, Cassia shuddered, her arms burning where Elias had grabbed her. Her lips stinging where he had kissed her.

When she didn't respond, Marcus' eyes narrowed, gaze flicking over her face. His focus lingered on her eyes, on the tears carving tracks down her pale cheeks. The hold he had on her arm eased slightly as he murmured, "Or perhaps it is the other? The one you might have loved."

Cassia gasped and jerked away from him, her eyes wide and hands trembling. The word caught in her mind, making her slowly shake her head. She didn't know who she was denying, though. Marcus or herself.

Her brother sighed—an almost mournful sound. He reached forward, brushing his thumb gently across her cheekbone. "Dearest sister," he said, voice kind. "Didn't you know that was the price? A string of useable people to be cast aside when you've broken them?"

Cassia staggered like he'd struck her.

Marcus smiled, and that was more than she could take. His fault. This was his fault just as much as it was hers. Her clever brother with all of his scheming and plans. He had caused this.

A low sound of rage that might have been a sob escaped her and she lunged at him, her hand flashing out. The crack resounded through the empty corridor as her palm collided with his cheek, her fingernails leaving red score marks across his face. 

For a breathless moment, the siblings stared at each other. 

Cassia's heartbeat was ragged in her ears. Her palm stung. Marcus didn't blink as he lightly touched the scratches she had given him.

His eyes turned flat and horrible. He took a step forward.

An image of fingers closing around her throat flashed in her mind and she opened her mouth to scream.

"Your Highness?"

Marcus froze, his eyes glued to Cassia's. They glittered with something she didn't recognize. Some emotion so distant and foreign she couldn't even begin to put a name to it.

"Your Highness?" the voice said again, a thick accent rolling through every syllable

Slowly, they both turned to face the intruder. 

Cassia's eyes went wide when she found herself looking at the Brunian slave girl. Her icy blue eyes were pinned on Marcus as she shook back a strand of her pale blonde hair.

The prince returned her stare, then smirked. He brushed a hand through his hair, letting his gaze sweep over the slave's body. "Yes, lovely?"

She blinked slowly at him before turning to look at Cassia. Her expression gave away absolutely nothing. No indication whatsoever that she had seen any of the things that had passed between the royal siblings.

"Your Highness, Lady Melito asked me to find you. She wished you to know that your gown and mask have arrived."

Cassia nearly sighed in relief. Claudia's timing could not have been more perfect.

Marcus snorted and straightened his dark blue jacket. He eyed the Brunian woman once more, who just returned his gaze unflinchingly. Marcus raised an interested eyebrow and prowled forward.

A shiver running down her spine, Cassia moved to intervene, but all the prince did was lean down and whisper in the woman's ear. She turned her face away and he whispered something else.

The Brunian cut her eyes at the prince and nodded once. 

Ice crackled through Cassia's veins as Marcus laughed softly, his breath stirring a strand of the woman's pale hair.

Then the prince was gone, stalking down the hall to disappear around a corner.

Both women stared for a moment at the place where Marcus had vanished, then the Brunian woman sighed and turned to her, pale eyebrow raised expectantly.

Cassia grimaced. "You acted as though you didn't speak Metian."

She frowned for a long time, looking aggrieved. "No," she finally said. "I only made it seem so, and you believed me."

"Why?" Cassia asked.

The Brunian pursed her lips. "It is more advantageous that the nobles believe I am ignorant."

There wasn't a readily available retort to that. Cassia stared at the Brunian for a long time, then snorted. The snort evolved into a short, bitter laugh. "How many people here believe you can't speak our language?"

The Brunian didn't answer that, instead turning back down the hall. "Please, Your Highness. Lady Melito requested I escort you to your rooms so you can try your gown on before the masquerade."

"Did Marcus believe you only spoke Brunian?" Cassia blurted, remembering the shrewd stare her brother had leveled on the slave.

There was no reply. The woman didn't so much as turn her head.

"What did my brother say to you?" she pressed.

"I believe, Highness, that that is between the prince and myself," the Brunian said, sounding bored. She gestured down the hall. "Now if you please?"

Cassia didn't budge. "Did he threaten you?"

The slave girl muttered something under her breath in Brunian. Cassia couldn't understand it, but the tone wasn't particularly flattering.

They stood there staring at one another for a long moment before Cassia sighed deeply. She knelt down on the floor and glanced at the Brunian. "Do you know how to fix hair, slave?"

The Brunian hissed, "Don't call me that."

"It is what you are," Cassia said, trying to hide her wince. "And since you refused to give me your name, there is nothing else for me to call you. I can't go traipsing about the castle looking like this, so I'll ask again. Can you—"

"Yes," she snapped, moving to stand behind Cassia. There was a beat of silence, then: "And you may call me Etain."

"Thank you," Cassia said tightly, incensed by Etain's tone. But she sat quietly as the Brunian dismantled her hair before just as quickly redressing it.

When she got back to her feet, she looked at Etain. "My brother is a dangerous man to become involved with." She gestured at the iron arm band marking Etain as a palace slave. "Particularly for someone in your situation."

Etain smiled tightly. "Perhaps. Or it could be advantageous."

Cassia shook her head. "Not with Marcus. He is not a man you should get involved with if you can help it," she said, pressing her point.

Just because she did not trust this woman—and wasn't even sure she liked her—that didn't mean she would abandon anyone to Marcus. Especially someone such as her who could not defend herself against him.

"You would know all about that, wouldn't you, Your Highness?" Etain said calmly. Her smile grew a little more serpentine, a threat dancing in her eyes.

Cassia suddenly realized what exactly made this woman so confident in her insolence. She alone had seen the incontrovertible proof of Cassia's affair with the general. 

The thought was enough to plunge her back toward a horrible sadness, her throat tightening so much that it was hard to breathe.

Etain smiled, the expression serene as she misread Cassia's reaction. Gesturing to her mouth, she said, "I will keep your secrets, Highness, so long as you keep mine."

For half a moment, Cassia had the horrible urge to expose the woman as a liar. Pretending not to understand Metian, giving her the ability to safely listen to any and all conversations, would be grounds enough to have her labelled a spy.

Then Cassia tilted her head, sweeping her gaze over the woman. Slowly, she smiled, the expression a hard, small thing. "There is no secret to share," she said calmly. "By law, the testimony of slaves cannot be believed unless it has been...extracted."

Cassia let the word hover in the air between them. The real meaning drained the color from Etain's already fair skin.

The threat didn't sit well in Cassia's conscience, but sometimes cruelty was necessary. After enough time had passed that she deemed Etain believed her to be serious, she said, "But there are other ways to encourage my own silence."

Etain's eyes darted to hers, burning with a furious, impotent rage. 

Lifting her chin, Cassia said, "Teach me your language."

"I—," Etain started, then snapped her mouth shut, frowning. "Why?"

"Because I wish to learn it," Cassia replied primly. "Not to mention you have great command of my language, making you a most suitable teacher." She eyed Etain curiously. "Why did you learn Metian?"

Etain didn't answer, instead saying, "What purpose does a princess have for learning the language of such a far away people?"

She was a little surprised by the question, especially after Marcus had announced her plans to her father's council. For days afterward, she had listened carefully for any gossip and had been shocked not to hear so much as a whisper. Then again, her father would have wanted to make sure any rumors of her going to Brunia were extinguished. 

And, she realized, that suited her just fine.

With a small shrug, she said, "I have always had an interest in languages. I am fluent in Mortanian, Sorian and can speak some Khana."

It seemed like bragging to mention the four other languages she could wade through if the situation called for it.

"The languages of your enemies," the Brunian observed dryly.

Cassia only shrugged. Most of their allies took pains to speak Metian. It had proven far more effective for her to learn the languages of conquered peoples.

Etain scowled, then shrugged as she seemed to realize she didn't have much of a choice. "As you will, Highness," she all but hissed.

Then, she turned on her heel and began striding down the hallway, no longer bothering to wait for the princess. Cassia couldn't decide if she wanted to be amused by the woman's bold actions, or if she was aggravated by her brazen behavior. 

Finally, she settled on feeling triumphant that she had secured a teacher for herself, so she wouldn't arrive on the island and be completely unable to communicate with the locals. The smile trying to twitch at the corner of her mouth faded as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress and followed Etain. 

Julianus had once promised to teach her what he knew of the island's language. 

She bit down on the inside of her lip as she passed the closed doors to the library and lengthened her stride, catching up to Etain. Brushing the fingers of one hand along the calluses on the other, she thought that they perhaps shouldn't have promised anything.

The walk up to her rooms was silent, with Cassia lost in thought and Etain likely un-eager to engage in any more conversation.

Neither of them had meant to, she realized. Neither of them had truly meant to promise anything.

Yet the promise had grown anyway, springing up in his absence.

Marcus' words echoed in her head. The one you might have loved.

Was that true? The idea brought a new wave of despair with every beat of her heart. Could she have truly loved Julianus?

She admired him. She cared for him. She craved his touch, his companionship.

But did any of that matter in the end?

She wanted to be queen. She needed to be queen. That was what she owed her people and herself.

And she could not even dream of asking Julianus to be something he was not, and what he was not was a creature inclined toward a cage, no matter how nice.

If she asked, he might stay. And his soul would wither in captivity. 

Perhaps it is better this way.

Her heart twisted at the thought, but she clung to it because it was easier to bear than the idea that everything they had done, every moment they had spent together was nothing more than a dream. A moment of weakness where they had each deluded themselves into believing they could have something more.

She could have loved him, but it was better that she no longer had the option.

No matter how painful that was.

By the time they reached her rooms, she was no longer fighting back tears. Instead, a great empty hole had opened in her chest, swallowing her sorrow and pain. Her regret and shame. It waited now like a malevolent beast, hoping that she would allow herself to fall into the pit as well.

But it could be ignored, if not entirely forgotten, and she swept into her rooms, ready to be delighted by whatever creation the master seamstress had put together this time.

Her ladies were huddled over two packages stacked neatly on the low table in her drawing room. Claudia gave her a quick, assessing look and Cassia had to force herself not to look away.

But all her lady said was, "Your gown and mask have arrived, Princess. Why don't we make sure it is properly fitted and to your liking before the ball?"

There were still eighteen days left until Cairna, but it wasn't as if she had anything else to do at the moment.

And for once, the idea of idle chatter about fabric and fit was immensely appealing. Because it was either that, or risk tumbling into that pit in her chest.

So she smiled and nodded, walking forward to where the packages lay.

Her ladies crowded around her, eager to see which animal she had decided to embody this year. Cassia bit her lip to keep from smiling as she unlaced the twine and tore the brown butcher paper away from the larger package.

The mask she wanted to keep secret until the last moment.

Drusilla and Antonia sighed as the dress emerged, a clever composition of silver and white silk, edged in white fur around the bodice.

A capelet of silver fur was folded beneath it, meant to shield her bare arms and shoulders from the cold. Cassia smiled a little sadly, brushing her fingers over the thick, beautiful fur.

"And the mask?" Drusilla asked in excitement.

Cassia picked up the smaller package, weighing it in her hands. She was dying to see it for herself. 

But she couldn't risk her mother finding out what she had done.

"A surprise," she said firmly, though she did offer a grin in exchange.

Antonia and Drusilla pouted theatrically, smiles hidden, while Claudia peered at the package suspiciously like she could see right through the paper. Like she could decipher which tradition Cassia had decided to flout this year.

Laughing and trying to guess which face Cassia would wear to the masquerade, her ladies picked up the silk and fur creation and followed Cassia into her dressing room.

After several minutes of overly careful tugging, buttoning and lacing, Cassia finally found herself in the gown.

And extremely pleased by the effect. It was an effort not to run into the drawing room and put on the mask, just to see the whole picture.

Fluffing out the skirt to admire the swirling embroidery, Antonia sighed and said, "Madame Trelia has certainly outdone herself this time."

"She has indeed," Cassia murmured, admiring the dawn grey bodice with the white satin laces up the front.

Smoky quartz and grey seed pearls had been sewn into the fabric, creating a glittering pattern that swirled like wind down to the full skirts. These were a mottled pattern of darker greys which faded unevenly into pure white at the bottom of the skirt.

"A dove?" Drusilla asked, cocking her head as she studied the colors.

"Or a winter hare," Antonia added.

Cassia merely smiled and pressed her lips together, not giving anything away. She smoothed her fingers down the silk of the bodice, tracing the careful stitching. 

Etain had moved to a discreet corner, hands folded in front of her. Quietly, she said, "Allaidha."

Cassia raised an eyebrow, mulling the word over in her head. It wasn't one she'd ever heard before in her limited studies of Brunian. Claudia pursed her lips, muttering something about speaking Metian, but Cassia held up a hand to stop her.

She met Etain's icy eyes and said, "The girl doesn't know enough Metian to speak it."

All Etain did was look down, likely to hide a vicious scowl.

"And hardly enough to follow orders," Claudia said with a sniff.

Cassia gave her a reproachful look, but simply gestured for them to begin unlacing the dress. 

The silk sighed as it fell away from her, Cassia's eyes tracking the dress' every fluid movement. It didn't flutter like that other silver dress so long ago, but she still couldn't help but imagine the slide of his hands over the rich material.

How he would complain over every lacing and button while secretly delighting in the challenge of unwrapping her.

Cassia's pale cheeks flushed and she turned away from the mirror, letting Etain help her back into the blue dress. The Brunian woman pursed her lips, but didn't say anything under Claudia's watchful eye.

A dream. That was all he was.

Just a dream.