To Marry A Monster (by Brey Mitchell) novel Chapter 209

CELESTE’S POV

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“I- I heard there was a fight,” Celeste’s servant said as she lowered her head, fingers twisting nervously in her apron. “Everyone has been talking about it since dawn.”

Celeste looked up from the mirror, where she had been pretending to study the line of her own lips. A smile was already tugging at her mouth, so she did not have to force one. “A fight?” she asked lightly. “Between whom?”

“The Lord and the Consort,” the servant whispered, as if the walls might carry the words straight to Cassian himself. “They said something broke. More than one thing and… there was shouting. Some of the maids heard His Lordship raise his voice and Her Highness answered him. They were arguing for a long time.”

Celeste turned fully toward the girl now, interest sharpening. “What else did they say?”

The servant swallowed. “That His Lordship left,” she went on. “In the middle of the night. He did not wait for dawn. The guards saw him take a horse from the inner stables and ride out with only a small escort. They said his mood was… not good.”

Not good, Celeste thought, and the words warmed her more than any fire in this frozen fortress.

“Tell me everything,” she said, waving the girl closer. “Every broken plate, every raised voice, every rumor you heard in the kitchen. Do not leave out a single word.”

The servant stepped in, eager despite her nerves. “They said a tray was knocked over,” she said. “That the crash woke two of the guards outside the door. No one went in, of course, but the shouting carried. They heard His Lordship say something about ‘the South‘ and ‘suicide‘ and ‘over my dead body. Her Highness said he was not the only one allowed to decide who lived or died. Then it went quiet for a while. After that, the maids only heard softer voices, but His Lordship left soon after. He did not return to their rooms before he rode out.”

Celeste listened, each word settling into place like a piece of polished stone.

So Atasha had pushed. She had asked. She had chosen the South over the North, at least enough to make him lose his temper. The thought filled Celeste with a satisfaction so deep she almost felt lightheaded.

“You have done well,” she told the servant. “If you hear anything else, you will come straight to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lady,” the girl said quickly. “I will listen.”

Celeste dismissed her with a small nod, then rose from the chair. The skirt of her borrowed northern gown brushed the floor as she crossed to the window.

Snow pressed against the glass, a white sheet over a gray world. The courtyard below lay half–obscured, only the faint shadows of moving figures breaking the sameness of it all. She had been staring at that same view for days now. It felt like a cage made of ice and stone.

“I am tired of this gloomy hole,” she muttered, letting the smile she had kept polite in front of the servant

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Chapter 209

spread fully now that she was alone.

Good thing she did not wait for anyone’s permission to prepare.

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Her women had already packed everything that mattered. They had been ready for days. Celeste had known the moment she saw the way Atasha hesitated on that balcony, the way she froze when Father’s name was mentioned, that a decision was coming. It had only been a matter of time.

All it had taken was one knife.

She traced a fingertip along the cold glass. “You see, Lord of the North,” she murmured under her breath. “You were the one who tried to isolate her. I only handed her a hand to hold when you pushed too hard.”

Since that night, everything had unfolded almost exactly as she had predicted.

Cassian had tightened the guard around Atasha. To the others, it looked like protection. To Celeste, it looked like fear. He had seen the way Atasha’s eyes had flickered when she spoke of going home, and he had reacted like every controlling man she had ever met, by trying to lock down what he could not fully control.

But Atasha was not the same sister who had cowered when Father raised his voice. She had power now. She had soldiers who owed her their lives. She had a title and a mark on her neck that meant something here.

Celeste had simply reminded her of who had held her without marks or titles when the rest of the world turned away.

So when Atasha appeared at Celeste’s door that night, cloaked from head to toe, Celeste was not surprised.

She had been waiting.

Celeste’s servant had barely finished her breathless report when a quiet knock sounded. It was late, late enough that most of the fortress had gone still. The fire in the corner had burned low, painting the walls with weak light.

“Come in,” Celeste called, arranging her face into something appropriately weary.

The door opened.

Atasha stepped inside, wrapped in a dark cloak that covered her from the top of her head down to her boots. Only her chin and the lower half of her face were visible, pale against the shadowed fabric. Snow clung to the hem where it had brushed the floor outside. Her hands were gloved, her posture tense.

Celeste crossed the room at once, reaching for her hand. “Sister? Why are you dressed like this?” she asked, widening her eyes in practiced surprise. “Is something wrong? Did someone-”

Inwardly, she already knew the answer. No one dressed like that to visit a ter for a leisurely talk. This was not a visit.

This was departure.

Atasha’s fingers tightened around hers, the grip firm despite the gloves. “Cassian agreed,” she said. “He agreed

to let me leave.”

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Chapter 209

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Celeste made sure her reaction was visible. Her brows pulled together. Her lips parted. “He did?” she asked, as if the idea were astonishing.

“Yes,” Atasha answered. “We do not have much time. He is still at the border, but he sent word that an escort is ready. We must leave now before he changes his mind.”

There it was, the line that mattered most.

Before he changes his mind,

Celeste nodded quickly, letting urgency replace her earlier stiffness. “Of course,” she said. “I will be ready. My things are already packed.”

Atasha blinked, momentarily thrown. “Already… packed?”

Celeste gave a small, embarrassed laugh and squeezed her hand. “I have never liked the cold,” she said, letting the truth slip easily into the lie. “I have been hoping you would find a way to visit the South since the moment. I arrived. I kept a few things ready. Just in case.”

Atasha’s shoulders eased a fraction. She nodded once. “Good,” she said. “Then we should not waste any more time.”

Within minutes, Celeste’s servants moved everything. Celeste oversaw it all with quick, sharp glances, but she kept her expression carefully anxious whenever Atasha’s eyes landed on her.

Soon enough, they stepped out into the corridor.

The fortress felt different at night. The usual echo of voices was gone, replaced by the muffled sound of boots on stone and the distant crackle of torches. Guards stood at key points, their heads turning as the two southern women passed, but none of them raised a hand to stop them. Atasha walked slightly ahead, her stride sure, the mark on her neck hidden under fabric but no less present in the minds of the men who watched her.

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