Marrying a Warhound (Cassian) novel Chapter 176

Brute 176 Summary

Matron Yara watches intently as Atasha, the Consort of the North, stands pale and fragile, leaning on Grace for support, showing no visible reaction to Yara’s accusations or the crowd’s murmurs. Despite Yara’s expectations, Atasha shows no sign of guilt or fear, and even Sister Veris, known for her fairness, appears concerned and supportive rather than suspicious. Yara’s frustration grows as the ritual begins and the Stone of the Goddess is brought forward, its soft silver light casting an eerie glow over the tense crowd.

Lady Kenneth announces that Atasha will place her hand on the Stone of the Goddess for one full minute to prove her purity or condemnation, heightening the anticipation and anxiety among the spectators. The crowd is tense, caught between hope and dread, as Atasha is guided to the stone. Yara expects Atasha to falter or collapse in pain, but instead, Atasha calmly touches the stone, showing no immediate reaction. This defies Yara’s belief and the warnings she had been given about the stone’s power and the inevitable suffering of a witch.

As the seconds pass with Atasha’s hand resting steadily on the stone, the crowd’s reaction surprises Yara. Instead of suspicion or fear, many show sympathy and loyalty toward Atasha, seeing her as a victim rather than a threat. Yara’s frustration deepens as the expected signs of pain or rejection from the stone fail to appear. Lady Kenneth watches closely, her expression unreadable but tense, as the sand slips through the hourglass marking the ritual’s time.

Yara is left questioning everything—whether the man’s assurances were false, if the stone has changed, or if Cassian or Atasha herself has interfered. Atasha’s only visible strain is a faint tremor in her fingers and slight tightening around her eyes, subtle signs that Yara interprets as far more chilling than overt pain. As the ritual nears its end and the last grains of sand fall, a sudden shift occurs when a lieutenant whispers urgently to Grace, causing her serene demeanor to twist into something harsh and ugly, signaling that something unexpected is about to happen.

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Chapter 176

MATRON YARA’S PERSPECTIVE

Matron Yara had anticipated some kind of response from Atasha the moment she spoke. Even the slightest sign—a flicker of guilt in her eyes, a subtle twitch in her jaw, a hint of fear—anything that would betray the consort’s awareness of her own deception. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Atasha neither scowled nor stiffened. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she stood there, looking pale and fragile, leaning slightly on Grace for support. Around them, the crowd murmured quietly, their voices tinged with sympathy.

Yara’s jaw clenched tightly. The silence was maddening. Despite her clear hint, the people didn’t seem to grasp that something was amiss. If anything, they drew closer, as if their collective breath was the only thing keeping the Lady upright.

Then Sister Veris stepped forward from the gathered clergy.

Yara’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Veris approach Atasha with swift concern etched across her face. The sister reached out, took Atasha’s arm, and checked her pulse. She whispered something softly into Atasha’s ear. The consort didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. Veris supported Atasha’s other side, her hand steady on her back, as if the woman were made of delicate glass.

A fierce heat flared inside Yara’s chest.

Even Veris? The woman who prided herself on discipline and fairness? Could she not see that Atasha was manipulating them all?

Yara fought the urge to roll her eyes and instead turned sharply toward the stage, focusing on the ritual attendants as they began to move.

Two guards stepped forward, carrying the Stone of the Goddess.

As soon as the box came into view, an eerie hush fell over the entire square. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Yara’s eyes tracked the polished case as it was carried toward the central pedestal, her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

When the guards opened the container, a soft silver light spilled out, illuminating the stone inside like a sleeping eye—smooth, radiant, and glowing faintly beneath the dimming twilight.

Yara’s gaze snapped back to Atasha.

Now, she thought, now show me.

She scrutinized every twitch of the consort’s face, searching for any sign of pain—a wince, a tightening around the eyes. The man’s words echoed in her mind: the true test wasn’t when Atasha touched the stone.

No, the real trial came before that.

“A witch feels the pain long before her hand meets the stone,” the man had whispered to her once. “It draws out the corruption from within. The stone reacts before she does.” But it was clear Atasha was not a witch. So the man had promised to do something ensuring she would feel that pain the moment she saw the stone.

So Yara waited.

She expected Atasha to falter—to gasp, clutch her chest, collapse.

But Atasha only blinked slowly, breathing steadily through her nose as Grace and Veris kept her upright. There was no sudden collapse.

Yara ground her teeth. Perhaps the woman was already drowning in pain, so much so that any new sensation blended seamlessly into the rest. Maybe she was hiding it. Maybe—

“Matron,” Lady Kenneth’s voice cut sharply through her thoughts.

Yara looked up sharply.

The sky had grown dark. The moon was rising, a thin crescent sharpening against the night sky. Its pale light spilled over the square, catching the stone and making its glow even more luminous. The ritual assistants stepped back.

Lady Kenneth lifted her voice, ensuring even those at the very edges of the crowd could hear her clearly.

“In just a few moments, Her Highness, the Consort of the North, will touch the Stone.”

A ripple passed through the crowd, a tense mix of fear and anger tightening the air. Some whispered anxiously, others clenched fists in barely suppressed frustration. Most stood frozen, caught between hope and dread for what was to come.

But Lady Kenneth remained unfazed. Her tone was clear and steady, as if she had rehearsed this moment countless times.

“We all know the rule. A witch cannot touch this stone without suffering. A witch cannot resist its power. A witch cannot survive its presence.”

Murmurs rose and fell among the crowd.

“Her Highness will place her hand on the Stone of the Goddess for one full minute. That is all. One minute to prove whether she is pure… or condemned by its judgment.”

The words landed like heavy stones dropped into still water. Gasps erupted first, followed by whispers of disbelief. A few men near the front shouted objections, while the council guards shifted uneasily, raising their shields as tension thickened.

Why do they look like they want to attack Lady Kenneth? Yara thought bitterly, a silent snort escaping her. What nonsense is this? She shot a sharp glare at Atasha.

This was the moment. No more hiding behind sympathy, no more titles to protect her, no more tricks to sway the crowd.

Lady Kenneth stepped aside, clearing a direct path to the stone’s pedestal. Her eyes flicked briefly to Atasha, then to the watching crowd.

“The time has come,” she declared.

Why was there no reaction? Why was Atasha still standing?

The moonlight slid over the stone, brightening its pale glow. Atasha’s hand remained firmly in place. Her shoulders rose and fell with slow, measured breaths.

The crowd watched, every eye fixed on the consort.

Yara barely noticed the cold anymore. Her entire focus was on the dwindling line of sand and the still figure by the pedestal. Each grain that fell pressed heavier against her chest.

Something was wrong.

Her fingers dug into the edge of her cloak as her thoughts raced through possibilities. Had the man lied? Had the stone changed? Had Cassian interfered in some way she didn’t know? Had Atasha?

The sand slipped lower.

Atasha didn’t avert her gaze from the stone. The only sign of strain was a faint tremor in her fingers, a slight tightening around her eyes—something most would mistake for exhaustion, but Yara saw it clearly, and it chilled her far more than any obvious cry of pain.

Her throat felt dry. This was not the scene she had prepared for, not the one she had pushed the council toward, not the one she’d staked her reputation on.

Across the pedestal, Lady Kenneth’s hand moved toward the sandglass, lips parting to speak.

The last grains of sand were about to fall.

Then, as if on cue, a lieutenant hurried toward Grace and whispered something into her ear. Almost immediately, Grace’s serene expression twisted into something harsh and ugly.

Conclusion

The tension in the square hung thick as the ritual reached its climax, yet Atasha’s unexpected endurance against the Stone of the Goddess unsettled everyone, especially Matron Yara. What should have been a moment of undeniable truth instead became a haunting ambiguity, leaving the crowd torn between hope and suspicion. Atasha’s faint tremors and quiet resilience spoke volumes in their silence, revealing a strength that defied the harsh judgment expected of her. The emotional undercurrents of fear, loyalty, and doubt swirled invisibly among the onlookers, underscoring the fragile balance between power and vulnerability.

For Matron Yara, this chapter closed on a note of profound uncertainty and simmering frustration. The carefully laid plans and assurances of inevitable downfall had unraveled before her eyes, forcing her to grapple with the unexpected resilience of the consort she sought to expose. Yet beneath the surface of political intrigue and ritual judgment, the human fragility and quiet defiance of Atasha lingered, hinting at deeper complexities yet to be revealed. The night air, heavy with unspoken emotions, left Yara—and the entire assembly—poised on the edge of revelation, where the true nature of strength and survival remained shrouded in mystery.

What to Expect in Next Chapter?

The tension that has been building reaches a breaking point as Atasha’s unexpected composure challenges every assumption Matron Yara and the crowd held about the ritual. The silence that hangs over the square is thick with unspoken questions—why does the Stone of the Goddess not reject Atasha as it should? What secret strength or hidden truth is she drawing upon to withstand what should be unbearable? The subtle shift in Grace’s expression hints at a revelation or betrayal that could turn the tide in ways no one anticipates.

As the next chapter unfolds, expect the fragile balance of power to be tested even further. The loyalties of those around Atasha, including the ever-watchful Lady Kenneth and the devoted Sister Veris, may come under strain as new truths begin to surface. Emotions will run high, with desperation and determination clashing beneath the surface, and Matron Yara’s carefully laid plans may unravel in unexpected ways. Prepare for a stirring mix of intrigue and raw human emotion as the consequences of this pivotal moment start to ripple through the lives of all involved.