Chapter 147 — The Story He Recognized

Chapter 147: Chapter 147 — The Story He Recognized

~ Raven ~

"I’m not nervous."

Raven blinked.

"What?"

"And there’s nothing wrong with my face," Cassian added irritably.

She stared at him for a moment before slowly raising a brow.

Well, well.

She hadn’t even said anything about him being nervous, but apparently, His Royal Grumpiness had decided to defend himself against an accusation she hadn’t made.

Raven raised both hands in surrender.

"Alright. I didn’t say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"Oh, now you can read minds?"

Cassian gave her a flat look.

There he was.

Raven almost smiled. For a moment, she’d been worried that something was genuinely wrong with him, but apparently, the Cassian Blade she knew was still very much alive and determined to make every conversation unnecessarily difficult.

Except he didn’t say anything else.

Instead, he looked away, his fingers moving against the armrest of his chair before he finally looked back at her.

"There’s something I need to ask you."

"I know. You’ve been trying to ask me for the past hour."

"It hasn’t been an hour."

"Feels like it."

"Raven."

"Fine, fine." She settled back against her pillows. "I’m listening."

Cassian opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Raven frowned.

What the hell?

She watched him look toward the window, then down at his hands, and when he finally returned his attention to her, he still didn’t speak.

Now she was getting nervous.

Cassian Blade was not the sort of man who struggled to find words. Usually, he said whatever he wanted, offended whoever happened to be listening, and went about his day without the slightest concern.

So what could possibly be so difficult to ask?

"Cassian?"

He drew a breath.

"Celeste."

Raven’s eyebrows rose.

"Celeste?"

"Yes."

"What about her?"

Cassian hesitated again, and Raven’s curiosity began to turn into genuine concern.

Had Celeste done something else?

Goddess, she had only just learned about the drugging. If that bitch had somehow found another way to ruin her day, Raven was going to get out of this bed regardless of what the healer said.

"Celeste mentioned something when I spoke to her earlier," Cassian finally said.

Raven waited.

"She said you used to write."

Her stomach dropped.

Oh.

Ohhhh!

Oh, fuck.

"Write?" she repeated, hoping she had somehow misunderstood him.

"Books."

Raven stared at him.

For several seconds, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Of all the things Cassian could have asked her, she hadn’t expected that.

She swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry her throat had become.

"Yes. I used to write a little, but that was a long time ago. It’s nothing particularly important, and I don’t see why—"

"Raven."

She stopped.

Cassian was looking directly at her now, and something about the intensity of his gaze made her forget what she had been trying to say.

Goddess.

Why did he have to be so fucking pretty?

His white hair had fallen loosely across his forehead, framing a face that looked as though someone had spent an unreasonable amount of time making sure every feature was exactly where it belonged. The sharp line of his jaw, the straight nose, those infuriatingly beautiful eyes...

And now those eyes were fixed entirely on her.

Raven felt warmth creeping up her neck.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

She was supposed to be having a conversation, not admiring the man’s face like some lovesick idiot.

"What?" she asked.

Cassian leaned forward slightly.

"Don’t play games with me."

Raven’s stomach tightened.

"I’m not playing games."

"Then tell me the truth." He held her gaze. "Did you write that book?"

The room suddenly felt much warmer.

Raven shifted against her pillows, pulling the blanket a little higher over her legs.

So he knew.

Or at least, he suspected.

But how?

Celeste had never known about her books. She’d only discovered those few pages in the kitchen, and Raven had never told anyone at House Blackthorn about R. Vale.

Unless...

"Wait." Raven frowned. "How do you know about Beyond the Chains?"

Cassian went completely still.

Raven stared at him.

Then she realized what she’d just said.

Oh, fuck.

She had practically handed him the answer herself.

Cassian slowly sat back.

"So it is true."

Raven opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

He stood.

For one ridiculous moment, she thought he was going to leave, but instead, he turned away from the bed and stood with his back to her.

His shoulders were tense, and his hands had curled into fists at his sides.

Raven watched him uncertainly.

Had she done something wrong?

She knew she had teased him quite a bit since they met, and there had been several occasions when she’d deliberately tried to annoy him just to see how far she could push his patience.

But surely, he wasn’t still angry about any of that?

What the hell did her writing have to do with him?

"Cassian?"

He didn’t answer.

Raven looked at his back, growing increasingly uncomfortable.

"Look, it’s just a book. I don’t understand why you’re making such a big—"

Cassian turned.

His eyes were blazing.

"That book..."

Raven fell silent.

He looked at her for another moment before his jaw tightened.

"That fucking book..."

He stopped again.

Raven stared at him.

What about the fucking book?!

Cassian turned away and began pacing.

She watched him cross the small space beside her bed, reach the window, and turn back again.

Once.

Twice.

By the third time, Raven was beginning to wonder whether she should call the healer.

Or perhaps Dante.

Actually, no. Bringing Dante into this would probably make everything ten times worse.

"Cassian, you’re starting to scare me."

He stopped.

For a moment, she thought he might finally explain himself.

Instead, he looked at her and asked, "Celeste said she found some of your writing in the kitchens."

Raven blinked.

"Yes?"

"She said she took several pages from you."

The warmth in Raven’s cheeks faded.

Ah.

So that was what this was about.

She looked down at her hands.

"I suppose she did."

Cassian approached the bed again.

"Were those pages from your latest manuscript?"

Raven glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she answered slowly.

Cassian’s expression changed.

"Does Celeste still have it?"

"What?"

"The manuscript." He stopped himself. "The pages she took from you. Does she still have them?"

Raven gave a bitter little smile.

"Oh, I doubt it."

"Why?"

She looked at him.

"Because she threw them into the kitchen sink."

Cassian didn’t move.

Raven’s smile faded.

"Not exactly the sink," she corrected herself. "It was one of those large stone basins we used for washing dishes. She held the pages over it and threatened to drop them, and when I tried to stop her, she let go."

The memory returned with uncomfortable clarity.

Celeste’s laughter.

The servants standing around them, watching.

The pages falling toward the filthy water.

Raven remembered lunging forward, her fingers closing around Celeste’s wrist as she desperately tried to catch the papers.

"I managed to save one," she continued. "But the other two fell into the water. By the time I got them out, the ink was already spreading everywhere."

She swallowed.

"Those were the last pages I’d written. I hadn’t even finished drying them properly before I was called downstairs."

Cassian’s face had gone completely still.

Raven looked at him.

"Cassian?"

He didn’t answer.

There was no longer any anger in his expression. In fact, there was barely any expression at all.

And for some reason, that frightened her more than the look he’d given her earlier.

She’d seen Cassian angry before.

She knew what his temper looked like, even when he tried to hide it behind that infuriatingly calm expression of his.

But this...

Raven couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Yet beneath her unease, something else stirred.

Was he really this upset about her writing?

Raven looked at him again, suddenly wanting to ask what he thought of the story.

Then she remembered the way he’d reacted when she called it just a book.

Perhaps she didn’t need to ask.

The thought sent an unexpected thrill through her chest.

"It’s alright," she said quickly. "It was only two pages."

Cassian looked at her.

"Only two?"

"Yes. I had the third one with me when I escaped, but I lost it somewhere along the way."

His expression didn’t change.

Raven hurried on.

"Besides, it wasn’t the entire manuscript. I’d already written most of it by then. The rest was still in my room."

Cassian blinked.

"What?"

"My manuscript," Raven explained. "I kept it hidden under the floorboard in my room at House Blackthorn."

He stared at her.

Raven frowned.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You left it there?"

"Well, yes. I wasn’t exactly given time to pack my belongings when I ran away."

Cassian took a step toward her.

Raven barely noticed. Her thoughts had already drifted back to the little room she’d once called home.

"I used to hide everything under that floorboard," she said, almost to herself. "My writing, the letters from my publisher, even the money I’d managed to save."

She gave a small, humorless laugh.

"Goddess, I wonder if any of it’s still there."

Cassian remained silent.

Raven glanced toward the window, remembering the narrow one in her old room.

"Third floor of the servants’ quarters, just above the kitchens. There was this loose board beside the wall where I kept my old crate. Nobody ever bothered coming up there unless they needed something from me, so I thought it was a pretty good hiding place."

She shook her head.

"Imagine spending years hiding everything you own in a hole under the floor, only to run away and leave it all behind."

"Raven."

She looked up.

Cassian was suddenly beside her bed.

"Are you certain?"

Raven blinked.

"Certain about what?"

"That the rest of the manuscript is still there."

He leaned closer.

Raven instinctively drew back against her pillows.

"Well, I haven’t been back to House Blackthorn since I escaped, so I wouldn’t know if anyone found it."

"Was it complete?"

"What?"

"The manuscript. Had you finished it?"

"It was." Raven frowned at him. "Those pages Celeste destroyed were the ending. I’d already written everything else."

"And you left all of it beneath that floorboard?"

"Yes. I wrapped it in oilcloth before going downstairs that morning."

Cassian stared at her.

Raven stared back.

Goddess.

He was close.

Far too close.

She could see the individual strands of white hair falling across his forehead, the faint tension in his jaw, and the way his eyes kept searching her face as though she had just told him something he couldn’t quite believe.

Her gaze slipped toward his mouth.

Oh, no.

She quickly looked away.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

She was lying in an infirmary bed, still recovering from being drugged, and here she was thinking about kissing Cassian Blade.

Raven swallowed and pulled the blanket a little higher.

She had absolutely no idea why the usually composed Cardinal was practically hovering over her because of an old manuscript.

And the worst part?

She was beginning to forget why she had wanted him to move away in the first place.