Free Web NovelChapter 97: Pawns and Players
While Cassian dealt with the matter of Eleanor, several people in his circle were holding crucial conversations in their most intimate circles.
In the Empress’s Chambers
In her private quarters, Caelia maintained a sharp gaze as she moved a chess piece against her own son.
"Checkmate," she declared with a soft but arrogance-laden voice.
Leonardo frowned as he observed the board.
Then, he turned his gaze toward his mother, evaluating the loose attire that accentuated her figure and the silky hair that fell over her shoulders, allowing him to barely imagine what was hidden beneath the garment.
He let out a resigned sigh.
"I can never beat you, Mother."
Caelia looked at him with a trace of tenderness and commented:
"Don’t be so disappointed; it’s normal that you’re not at my level yet. Besides, you recently went through a traumatic experience. You’ll see that, with time, you’ll improve, son."
That last word caused a slight blush on Caelia as she remembered the man with the perfect abdomen and intense violet eyes that seemed to undress her every time he looked at her; the one whom, in the intimacy of her thoughts, she also called by that name.
Leonardo did not notice his mother’s strange reaction and, with a more confident expression, replied:
"You’re right. Besides, if I’m going to be Emperor, being an expert at chess isn’t strictly necessary."
"That’s the right attitude," she nodded, though inside she thought: «I have total control of the harem; if you don’t ascend, your father will probably receive a rather unpleasant surprise».
A lazy and playful smile illuminated her face as she toyed with a piece.
When Leonardo finally withdrew, albeit reluctantly because he enjoyed spending time with his mother, Caelia called her maid.
With a sly smile, she used the piece she was holding to knock down the enemy king.
The impact of the wood against the board contrasted with Rose’s tense wait.
"Is everything prepared?" asked the Empress.
The anxiety and concern on Rose’s face were evident.
But Caelia’s obsession and confidence were the complete opposite.
...
In the Valois Mansion
Morgana was in the middle of a heated discussion with her mother.
Cordelia studied every reaction and every small gesture from her daughter.
"Of all the people you could have set your sights on, it had to be that boy," said Cordelia with skepticism.
"I have good taste, don’t I?" replied Morgana with a mischievous smile, furrowing her brow in amusement.
Cordelia shook her head, thinking about Caelia’s obsession and now her own daughter’s interest in that man.
She remembered the last time she saw him: although his calmness in front of her had surprised her, his apparent lack of talent and his lazy attitude had not given her the impression that he was anyone special.
BAM!
The door burst open and Victorio entered the room with his face flushed with anger.
"No way! My sister is not going to be with that man. No matter how mysterious he is, Morgana, he is not at your level."
"You don’t decide for me, Victorio," she replied in a coldly calm tone.
Both argued for a while as Cordelia tried to follow the thread; it seemed her children were hiding too many details about that trip that had almost cost them their lives.
When the dispute reached its peak, another person entered the room, plunging it into immediate silence: the Duke.
"Cordelia," he greeted with a cheerful voice and a smile, which faded when he looked at his daughter.
Morgana stood her ground, glaring at him, though she moved a little closer to her mother out of caution.
"Why have I received a message from Alexandro fucking Varkas saying that he accepted the marriage proposal?"
"I sent the request," Morgana admitted. "I also sent my dowry, although I don’t think it’s necessary considering I’m the daughter of a duchy."
"And you even admit it!" exclaimed the Duke, shaking his head. "You are the daughter of the Valois family, a count’s house... Besides, it’s Cassian Varkas; at least the other one is the heir and has some talent."
Cordelia, seeing the tension escalating, decided to intervene:
"Morgana has already made her decision. I have no intention of using my daughter as a bargaining chip, Frederick. If she wishes to marry that man, so be it."
Although Cordelia supported her, her discomfort grew as she heard more about that enigmatic subject.
The Duke looked at the Duchess with seriousness in a silent exchange; a power struggle that, as always, Cordelia won.
The Duke let out a sigh full of frustration before declaring:
"I hope you don’t regret this, Cordelia. Joining your daughter with a man like that... even if it now seems like a good decision based on ’love’, this will only end up making Morgana suffer."
Cordelia held his gaze, imperturbable. Her voice, though calm, left no room for reply:
"Then it will be her own burden to bear, Frederick."
...
The Streets of the Capital
On the other hand, Cassian had left Elizabeth’s office a while ago and was heading back to the Academy.
Normally he would have teleported, but today he had a particular reason not to do so.
Amid the bustle of the street and from the height of the buildings, a familiar figure was following him, as was usual.
However, there was something in the movements of that day that betrayed that nothing was normal.
Cassian smiled in amusement.
He took his time in the market, buying sweets and trying street food as he walked.
He observed necklaces and accessories that would highlight the beauty of the women around him, although he knew that nothing could surpass what he kept in his own dimensional space. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm
Once he decided that the game should end, he turned into an empty alley, offering his follower the perfect opportunity.
The next thing he felt was a black bag covering his head.
They tied his hands and tried to knock him out.
Cassian pretended that the attack had succeeded.
He let himself be taken to the place where someone had been waiting for him for far too long.
It wasn’t just the two months that had passed; for that person’s thirst and obsession, every minute without him felt like a thousand years.
