The war tent had grown colder, despite the flickering lanterns and the lingering scent of blood and smoke. The night pressed in from all sides, muted only by the rustle of soldiers moving outside. Inside, it was too quiet. Not peaceful, just tense. Heavy, like the storm hadn’t passed at all, only changed form.
Cassian hadn’t said a word since the soldier delivered the message, the one left on the corpse of a northern soldier with his throat slit clean and no signs of a struggle. He read the parchment without so much as a twitch in his jaw. Then, without even looking at Mendez, he ordered him to leave.
Not a word about the wounded. Not a mention of the poisoned lieutenants. No instructions for me to heal anyone. Just a curt dismissal.
Now we were alone.
Cassian sat in the high–backed chair like a statue carved from shadow and steel, one hand resting over the report while the other tapped once, then stilled. I remained behind him, partially hidden by the edges of the tent, still wearing the cloak that clung damply to my skin. I didn’t know why he wanted me here. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
But the silence was unbearable.
I cleared my throat lightly. It sounded loud in the stillness. “I… um…” I tried again. “Shouldn’t I heal your lieutenants?”
Cassian didn’t move.
I shifted uncomfortably, forcing myself to continue. “You said earlier that two of them are still dying. I know Mendez already gave a report, but…” My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my cloak. “If this message means what I think it means, then there’ll be another attack. Soon, Wouldn’t it be better if your lieutenants are back on their feet before it happens?”
Still no answer.
He turned his head slightly, finally glancing over his shoulder. His eyes met mine. From where I was standing, his gaze looked calculating. Like he wasn’t listening to the words I was saying, but rather dissecting everything I wasn’t.
My throat dried again.
“I mean…” I tried to laugh, but it came out awkward. “Of course, if you don’t want that, I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
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Chapter 41
“Sit,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
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He didn’t repeat himself. He just leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests, one hand gesturing casually, toward himself.
I didn’t have to look around. I knew there was only one chair in the entire tent, the one where he was sitting.
My heart skipped. “You mean… here?”
His expression didn’t change.
I hesitated. The tent suddenly felt smaller, warmer, like the air itself had thickened. My eyes darted toward the exit, then back to him. “Are you–seriously asking me to sit on-”
He raised a brow slightly, as if daring me to say it out loud.
I looked around again, hoping by some miracle another chair had appeared. It hadn’t.
“Lord Cassian,” I said slowly, trying to keep my voice level. “This doesn’t exactly seem… necessary.” Why was he asking me to sit on his lap? I blinked, my face was getting hotter.
What the hell was I thinking?
“It wasn’t a request,” he said.
I stared at him.
His tone hadn’t changed. It wasn’t cruel or impatient. And I couldn’t read it, which made it worse. He wasn’t doing this to fluster me. I didn’t even think it was about intimacy.
He watched me like he was waiting for something, hesitation, defiance, fear. And part of me didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
So I moved.
Carefully, I stepped around the table. I stopped in front of him, hands clenched at my sides, then slowly sat down, awkward, stiff, barely putting my weight on his legs.
I felt his hand on my waist almost immediately, pulling me closer until I was firmly seated. His other arm draped lazily across the back of the chair, boxing me in. I could feel the heat of his skin even through the layers of my cloak, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my spine.
“Now, rest,” he said.
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Chapter 41
(/)
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“Eh?” My head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Wait, what do you mean by rest? You want me to sleep? Here? In your lap?”
Cassian didn’t even look up.
He turned slightly in his seat, picked up another parchment from the stack beside the and began reading it with ease, as if I hadn’t said anything at all. No explanation. No clarification. Just the sound of rustling paper as he flipped a page.
I blinked, mouth slightly open.
Was he serious?
maps,
I sat frozen in his lap, unsure whether to feel insulted, panicked, or flattered. This entire thing felt absurd. Why had he told me to sit here in the first place if he was just going to ignore me? Was this some new form of dominance? Was he testing my boundaries? Or was he simply too exhausted to care and this was his twisted way of making sure I stayed put?
I shifted slightly, only for his arm to tighten around my waist in response, guiding me back into place without so much as a glance. That was when he spoke again.
“You should stop calling me ‘Lord,“” he said casually, his eyes still fixed on the parchment. “You seemed very comfortable using my name back in the cave.”
My breath caught. I immediately stilled.
He hadn’t raised his voice. There was no bite in his tone. But that made it harder to gauge. Was he angry? Was he mocking me? Or was it just a statement? Either way, I wasn’t about to fall into another verbal trap.
I didn’t dare look at him. I didn’t need to. I could already picture him sitting there, expression calm, eyes unmoving as he scanned the report like he hadn’t just dropped a comment meant to slice through my composure.
“..“I licked my lips. “Then what should I call you?”
There was a pause. Then he set the parchment down and finally looked at me.
“Husband”
That one word knocked the breath from my lungs.
I blinked once. Then again. My heart thudded in a strange, misplaced rhythm
Husband?
Was be joking?
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Chapter 41
…
:
“I mean…” I muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. “Beds are softer.”
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He hummed.“Beds don’t react,” he said. “They don’t adjust to your movements. They don’t know when you’re cold or when you’re tense. And they certainly don’t stay alert when someone tries to attack you in your sleep. My arms are better.”
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Chapter 42
Chapter 42
