Marrying a Warhound (Cassian) novel Chapter 161

Chapter 161

When I woke, the first thing I felt was soreness. A deep ache that sat low in my body and flared when I moved. For a moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand it. I shouldn’t feel this way. My body heals faster than most. Pain fades before it settles. But this, this wasn’t fading. Every shift of muscle reminded me exactly why.

The memories came in fragments, the desk, his hands, the sound of my own voice when I forgot how to breathe. Heat crawled up my neck. I shut my eyes and exhaled, forcing myself to move. Embarrassment wouldn’t kill me, but lying here remembering every detail might.

Perhaps doing it on a desk was not a very good idea after all.

Cassian was gone, of course. The sheets beside me were cold. A small part of me was relieved. It was easier not to face him, easier not to see what last night had turned us into.

I slid out of bed and went straight to the washroom. The water stung against my skin before it soothed, chasing the fog from my mind. I focused on scrubbing, on the motion of it, until the tightness in my chest loosened a little. By the time I stepped out and dressed, I had convinced myself I could face the day without thinking about what happened.

When I opened the door, Grace was waiting, her usual calm already restored. “Breakfast is ready, Your Highness,” she said, smiling.

I nodded, pretending not to see the way her eyes flicked, just once, toward the bed. “I’ll eat on the balcony today.”

“As you wish.”

A few minutes later, I was sitting outside, the cold air biting at my skin in a way that felt good, normal. The table was set with warm bread, fruits, and a steaming pot of tea. The view stretched over the snowy courtyard, sunlight catching on the frost–covered railings. For a brief moment, it almost felt peaceful.

Then the door opened behind me. “Your Highness,” one of the servants said, bowing. “Lady Kenneth is here.”

I frowned. “Now?”

“Yes, Your Highness. She requests an audience.”

Grace stepped forward before I could rise. “You’re the Lady of the North now,” she said under her breath. “A princess consort. You don’t rise for anyone.”

Her reminder made me pause. The words felt strange, heavy with a title that still didn’t sit comfortably on my shoulders. I nodded and stayed seated. “Let her in.”

The servant bowed again and left.

Moments later, Lady Kenneth entered the balcony. She didn’t need an announcement to command attention. She had that kind of presence, the kind that made silence settle before she spoke. Her movements were crisp, her back straight, her chin lifted in a way that carried both pride and warning.

I couldn’t help but admire it. There was a quiet authority in her that drew the eye, a poise I wished came. naturally to me. But this wasn’t the time to envy her.

“Lady Kenneth,” I greeted, forcing a polite smile. “Please, sit. If there’s anything you’d like, the servants can prepare it for you.”

She looked at me, her expression unreadable. For a second, I thought she might say something sharp. Instead, she lifted an eyebrow, almost amused. “A cup of coffee would be nice.”

I nodded to the nearest servant. “Bring her one.”

The servant hurried off as Grace stepped forward and pulled a chair out for Lady Kenneth, the scrape of wood against stone loud in the stillness. Lady Kenneth hesitated only a moment before sitting across from me, the faintest arch in her brow suggesting she’d expected me to stand first.

I blinked, setting my cup down with a soft clink. “Last?”

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“Mmm,” she said, stirring her coffee with a slow, steady hand. “You know how people in the capital talk. They say every woman who marries into the North ends up… unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” I repeated, tilting my head. “How could it be? Marrying the Lord is my greatest blessing.” I gave her my most polite smile, the kind that looked sincere even when it wasn’t.

Lady Kenneth’s lips curved, her tone pleasant. “Dead, Your Highness. Just like the four women who married Lord Cassian before you.”

I blinked, keeping my expression open and harmless. “Dead? Why would I die?”

Her eyes flicked to mine, studying me for a moment as if deciding whether I was pretending or truly that naive. “Because,” she said lightly. “You’re married to the Tyrant Lord. And history doesn’t seem to favor his brides.”

I smiled back, matching her tone perfectly. “Then I suppose history will have to adjust. Lord Cassian favors me with all his heart.”

Lady Kenneth’s cup paused halfway to her lips. For a moment, she said nothing. Then she smiled again, tighter this time. “Perhaps it will.”