Marrying a Warhound (Cassian) novel Chapter 191

**TITLE: Brute 191**
**Chapter 191**

The North may have weathered yet another insurrection, but the recent attack was merely a fragment of a far more intricate scheme. Shadows had been cast against Cassian and Atasha long before Matron Yara ever dared to lift a tainted stone, and the hushed whispers that lingered in the air hinted at an adversary who possessed an unsettling understanding of their vulnerabilities.

News of Cassian’s collapse on the battlefield had already reached the King, rippling through every neighboring territory like a stone thrown into a still pond. All eyes were now keenly focused on the Valemont rule, eagerly awaiting the first crack that would signal its impending decline.

As the weight of political pressure mounted, Atasha found herself grappling with a truth that she could no longer dismiss. The corrupted stones had reacted to her power in ways that no healer or wolf should ever experience, and each encounter with the arcane only deepened the mystery surrounding her origins and her true identity.

To safeguard the North, both Cassian and Atasha must delve into the roots of her abilities and uncover the motivations behind the witches who were willing to risk everything to turn her potential into a weapon. The revelations they uncover could either pave the way for the North’s salvation or deliver the final, devastating blow that would lead to its destruction.

From the very beginning, someone had been toying with their lives, and what they would discover next could determine the fate of the North itself.

**CELESTE’S POV**

“Are we nearly there?” Celeste inquired, her brows knitting together in irritation as she shifted uncomfortably against the rigid cushion of the carriage. The journey had been long, and her patience was wearing thin.

One of her attendants, a nameless figure who bowed too frequently and cleared his throat as if to gather courage, hesitated before responding. “We should arrive in half a day, my lady. However…” His voice trailed off, leaving a heavy silence that only fueled her annoyance.

Celeste lifted her chin defiantly. “However… what?” she pressed, her tone sharp.

“The security at the border has tightened considerably. They inspected every wagon in the line, and we were questioned twice before they allowed us to continue. Even after we revealed your identity at the main gates—”

Celeste interrupted him, her voice rising. “You told them who I am? That I am Atasha’s sister?” The thought of her name being announced to mere guards filled her with indignation.

“Yes, my lady,” he replied, swallowing hard, his eyes darting away. “We made it clear.”

“Then why are we still sitting here like peasants waiting for scraps?” she snapped, frustration bubbling over. “I should have been escorted to the mansion the moment they heard my name. Atasha should have sent someone to receive me.” Unless, of course, that brutish lord of hers had instructed otherwise!

The servant shifted uncomfortably, his nervousness palpable. “That is the other issue, my lady. The kind of welcome we anticipated… never materialized.”

Celeste’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “What do you mean it never happened? Are you saying no one came out to greet us? Not even a single guard from the mansion?” The very notion was absurd.

He shook his head, a look of regret crossing his features.

She scoffed, leaning back against the seat and crossing her arms in disbelief. Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable. Perhaps she could forgive Atasha for not sprinting toward her the moment she arrived—it must have been due to her husband, that beast. But surely, Atasha owed her a proper welcome upon her arrival at the mansion. After all, she was her sister.

The servant hesitated, as if weighing whether to speak again. Celeste could feel her patience fraying. She closed her eyes and exhaled dramatically. “This place is far too cold. Increase the heat inside the carriage. I refuse to freeze before I even see her.”

“But, my lady…” he began tentatively.

Celeste opened one eye, annoyance etched on her features. “But what?”

“We were unable to procure enough fae stones to heat the carriage,” he explained, his voice cautious. “The merchants along the border have been withholding them due to the recent conflict. Prices have risen, and we lacked the—”

Celeste’s expression soured, her lips curling in disbelief. “You lacked what? Money?” The very idea was an insult to her dignity. “We have coin.”

“We used the last of it to pass through the final checkpoint,” he admitted, his head bowed in shame. “The guards demanded payment from all southern carriages.”

Celeste clicked her tongue in irritation and turned away, her mind racing. If anyone had told her a year ago that she would be sitting in a cold carriage because her household couldn’t afford fae stones, she would have laughed in their face. But since Atasha had left, everything had spiraled into chaos. Her mother was dead, her father—the Alpha—was still in a coma, and the Demon Fangs continued their relentless attacks, draining their resources.

Their pack had bled money over the past few months, all while she struggled to maintain an image of stability.

And of course, Atasha had refused to respond to any of her messages. Weeks had passed filled with letters, requests, demands, and desperate pleas, only to receive nothing in return.

Celeste’s jaw tightened at the thought. She had been forced to abandon the southern territories and make the arduous journey north on her own. She needed to see her sister’s situation firsthand, to confirm the rumors swirling around her, and most importantly, to ask for the assistance she so desperately required.

She needed Atasha to open the gates to the King for her. Celeste should have been the one basking in privilege, recognition, and favor from the royal family, yet here she was, trapped in her pack, helpless and overwhelmed. Meanwhile, Atasha appeared to be thriving. Celeste had expected her sister to falter in this marriage, but she had been sorely mistaken.

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