To Marry A Monster (by Brey Mitchell) novel Chapter 211

Celeste’s POV

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Celeste had been staring at the opposite seat for so long that every stitch on the upholstery already made her angry.

Atasha sat there with her cloak half–open, shoulders hunched a little from the cold, hands folded on her lap. Grace was next to her, shoulder to shoulder, the lieutenant’s sword leaning within easy reach against her knee. Even inside the carriage, the woman wore that same watchful expression she had in the fortress yard, as if she expected enemies to come through the wooden walls at any moment.

Grace had been like that. Celeste heard stories that Atasha could not even bathe without the woman hovering nearby. Seeing it now… Celeste could not help but feel suffocated.

“Sister,” she said, the word coming out sharper than she meant. “Are you certain this is going to be all right? I mean, this is not some short stroll in the courtyard. We are leaving the North.” She shifted her gaze to Grace. “Are you certain the Lord of the North actually allowed you to walk out?”

Grace did not even look at Celeste. Her gaze stayed on the narrow window, tracking the line of trees sliding past. Her jaw clenched once, then settled again. As if Celeste had not spoken at all.

Heat crawled up Celeste’s neck.

Of course the woman would ignore her. That was all these northerners did. Pretend they did not hear when a southerner spoke, then act like they were the reasonable ones.

Atasha reached across the carriage and took Celeste’s hand before she could say more.

“You saved my life,” Atasha said.

Her voice was soft, almost unsure, as if she still could not quite believe the words. Her thumb brushed over the back of Celeste’s fingers in a clumsy stroke that Celeste recognized from their childhood, the one she used when she thought someone needed comfort.

“If you had not stepped in front of me,” Atasha went on, “I would have died. I know it. The knife would have gone through my ribs. I would not be here.”

There was no calculation in her face. Just open, ridiculous sincerity.

Celeste almost laughed.

She swallowed it down and squeezed Atasha’s hand instead. “The North needed you,” she said. “They still do. You keep their soldiers on their feet. You keep their Lord breathing. You should have stayed where you were needed. So… So I would like to apologize. I didn’t mean to take you away from- ”

“Enough,“Atasha’s brows drew together in thought. She looked down at their joined hands, then up again, eyes clear in the dim light.

“The North does need a healer,” she said. “That is true.” She hesitated for a heartbeat. “But you made me remember other things these past days.”

19:24 Fri, Dec 12

Chapter 211

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Celeste stilled. “What things?” she asked.

“That I am from the South,” Atasha said, then corrected herself with a small tilt of her head. “From Nightfall. From Father’s pack. I was raised there. I was trained there. When the witches attacked, I kept thinking only about the northern walls and its people. I pushed everything else aside. I told myself it was enough that they respected me here.” She drew a slow breath. “You reminded me that our father is still alive. You reminded me that I walked away while he lay sick.”

She spoke without bitterness, just a quiet acceptance that made Celeste’s teeth grind. Why does this woman sound so… righteous?

“To be honest, I did not want to go back,” Atasha said. “Not after everything that happened. Not after he looked at me the way he did when he learned I had no wolf. Going south felt like walking into a house that had already thrown me out. But it is different now.”

“How?” Celeste pushed, even though she already saw where this was going.

“I have people who respect me,” Atasha said simply. “I have my own warriors. I have a place where my name is not spoken like it is a shame.” Her mouth curved, small and almost shy. “That matters. More than it used to. I am not going back to kneel. I am going back because I can help and still stand.”

Celeste forced her lips into a smile.

“That is good,” she said. “You deserve that.”

Inside, she was cursing Grace for every breath she took in this carriage.

Why was the woman here, listening to every word? Why had she wedged herself at Atasha’s side like some watchdog, watching Celeste with that soldier’s stare whenever she came too close? This conversation should have been between sisters, not something a northern lieutenant could carry back to her Lord like a report.

As if reading the direction of her thoughts, Atasha glanced sideways at Grace and then back at Celeste.

“We can trust Grace,” she said. “You do not have to worry about what you say in front of her.”

Celeste’s smile froze.

Atasha kept going, either oblivious or pretending not to notice. “We have saved each other’s lives more times than I can count,” she said. “On the walls and even in the field. Grace stood between me and an arrow once. I stopped her bleeding when she should not have stayed awake. We are… linked, I suppose. I can say anything in front of her. If I could not, I would not.”

Grace’s jaw moved at that, just a fraction. Her eyes stayed on the window, but her hand shifted closer to Atasha’s knee, a small, protective gesture she probably did not even realize she was making.

Celeste sneered inwardly.

Of course she would.

Of course Atasha would defend a northerner over her own sister.

19:24 Fri, Dec 12

Chapter 211

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How could they trust this woman when she wore the North on her back like a second skin? Grace took her orders from Cassian. She slept under his roof. She carried his crest on her cloak. Celeste would have bet her own life that if she had to choose between Atasha and her Lord, Grace would drag Atasha back to the fortress by her hair rather than let her go.

Now that Celeste thought about it, the picture was very clear. Of course Cassian would plant someone next to Atasha. Someone who would report every word, every step, every breath. Someone who could wrap it all in the language of duty and protection until Atasha believed it.

Atasha’s naivety made Celeste’s fingers itch.

The woman was hateful in the most frustrating way. Not because she schemed nor because she lied. It was because she trusted when she should not. Because she kept stretching out her hand to people who could slit her throat in her sleep and then tell themselves it was mercy.

If Atasha was not such a fool, she would not be in this carriage at all. She would have stayed where she was safe and powerful, and Celeste’s plans would have been broken before they began. Instead, she had agreed to come south because someone tugged at the string labeled “Father,” and Atasha’s heart went running after it.

Celeste sat back, letting her hand slip from Atasha’s grip.

The carriage rocked as it rolled over a rut in the road. Outside, the same endless line of dark pine trees and pale snow stretched in every direction. They had been traveling since shortly after dawn, and yet the world beyond the window still looked like the North. The air still bit when the wind slipped through the cracks. The guard’s shouted orders when they changed formation still carried the northern accent.

They had not even crossed the outer border markers yet.

Every time the wheels slowed a little, Celeste’s stomach tightened. What if Atasha pulled the cord and told the driver to turn back? What if a messenger came pounding up from the fortress with new orders? What if Cassian decided the risk was too much and dragged his consort home?

The thought made Celeste’s pulse race.

She needed distance. She needed land between them and that cold stone cage, enough that the Lord of the North would have to cross kingdoms to reclaim what he had let go. Until then, everything felt fragile.

Her eyes slid back to Grace.

Grace sat with one hand resting on her sword hilt, gaze fixed on the road ahead. She had not spoken once since they left, except to answer Yes, Your Highness or We are clear, Your Highness when Atasha asked about the patrols.

Celeste’s mind began to turn.

Getting rid of this woman would not be as simple as spilling her blood in a corridor. Atasha would heal her before the body cooled. Celeste had seen it.

If she tried anything obvious, Grace would simply wake on the floor of some room, breathing again, and Cassian would hear every detail of what had happened.

No. She needed something else.

19:24 Fri, Dec 12

Chapter 211

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Something that did not look like an attack at all.

The west had answers to that.

Celeste knew poisons that did not show on the skin, poisons that did not drop a person where they stood but crept instead. Oils drawn from plants that grew in marsh water under a sun that never fully warmed them. Liquids that sank into the blood and waited. Poisons that mimicked illness, exhaustion, cursed luck. Poisons that clung to the lungs like mold and made every breath a little shallower until the body simply gave up.

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