Chapter 1 — The Wedding Night
Chapter 1 — The Wedding Night
The wedding feast ended later than planned.
Not because the guests were reluctant to leave.
The groom had killed a man in the adjoining hall.
The news reached the bridal chamber while Ella sat on the edge of the bed, letting Nell remove the final pearl from her hair.
The maids outside spoke in hushed voices, but every word still slipped through the narrow gap beneath the door.
"I heard it was one of the duke's secretaries."
"What did he do?"
"Sent a Northern military report to the palace behind His Grace's back."
"Did he really have to deal with him tonight?"
A brief silence followed.
Then another maid whispered,
"The duke probably thought letting a traitor live one more night would be a waste."
Nell's hand trembled.
The hairpin caught in Ella's hair and pulled sharply at her scalp.
"My lady, I'm sorry."
"It's all right."
Ella looked toward the door through the mirror.
The footsteps outside quickly scattered.
No one dared remain near Cassian's rooms while speaking about him for too long.
"Should I stay?" Nell asked.
The worry on her face was impossible to hide.
Ella shook her head.
"Go."
"But the duke…"
"Having another person in the room won't make him easier to deal with."
Nell opened her mouth, but whatever she had wanted to say never came out.
In the end, she bowed and left.
When the door closed, the room fell completely silent.
Fresh white flowers had been wound around the bedposts. Every candle had been lit, and their glow spilled across Ella's white wedding gown, making the pearls sewn into the fabric shimmer.
Everything in the room looked exactly as a grand wedding chamber should.
Except for the necklace around the bride's throat.
Black diamonds rested against her skin, cold and unnaturally heavy.
Ella lifted a hand and touched them.
A month ago, when she had first seen the necklace, she had told Cassian it looked like a collar.
Instead of replacing it, he had fastened it around her neck himself.
Since you agreed to marry me, he had said, you should start getting used to the feeling of being bound.
At the time, Ella had wanted to stab him with a brooch.
Later, she actually had.
The lock suddenly turned.
Ella lowered her hand.
Cassian entered and shut the door behind him.
He had already removed the formal coat he had worn during the ceremony. Only a black shirt remained, fitted closely across his shoulders.
Dark blood stained his right cuff.
More of it had dried across his knuckles.
He did not smell of wine.
Only cold night air, leather, and the metallic scent of fresh blood.
Ella stared at his hand.
"Is he dead?"
Cassian crossed the room and poured himself a glass of wine.
"Yes."
"Did it have to be tonight?"
"He could have chosen another night to betray me."
He said it casually, as though the dead man had been the one guilty of poor timing.
For once, Ella could think of no answer.
Cassian drank before finally turning toward her.
"Are you planning to sit there all night?"
"According to tradition, the bride waits for the groom."
"Since when do you care about tradition?"
"When it benefits me."
One corner of his mouth shifted.
It was not quite a smile.
He merely found her answer entertaining enough not to dismiss.
Ella continued watching the blood on his sleeve.
That small patch of red reminded her of another fire.
A corridor burning around her.
Portraits falling from the walls.
A sword being pulled from her chest.
Cassian had been covered in blood then too.
Not hers.
At least, not at first.
He had walked toward her through the flames without asking who she was.
When the blade entered her body, she had only managed to see his face.
Cold Almost irritated.
As though she were not a living woman, but merely an object obstructing his path.
"You're drifting again."
Cassian's voice came from directly in front of her.
Ella returned to herself and realized he had already crossed the room.
"What were you thinking about?"
"How many people you've killed."
"Why? Planning to build them a monument?"
"I was wondering whether you remember them."
"Remember what?"
"Their names. Their faces. The things they said before they died."
Cassian lowered his gaze and studied her.
"I remember the important ones."
"What makes someone important?"
"They're useful."
"And?"
"They amuse me."
Ella lifted her chin.
"Were any of the people you killed amusing?"
"Not after they died."
He answered without hesitation.
Not even the smallest pretence of regret softened his voice.
Ella suddenly understood why the woman in the prophecy had never been remembered.
She had not been useful.
She had not lived long enough to become interesting.
She had simply appeared at the wrong time, in the wrong place.
Cassian raised a hand and touched the black diamonds around her throat.
"You're still wearing it."
"Everyone saw it during the ceremony."
"There's no one else here now."
"So?"
"I thought you would take it off the moment you were alone."
Ella curled her fingers around the red gemstone at its centre.
"I considered it."
"Why didn't you?"
"It was expensive."
Cassian gave a low laugh.
"Your father would be pleased to hear that."
"He has been pleased enough today."
Every debt belonging to House Everitt was now held by Cassian.
Her father had treated that fact as a blessing.
Even now, he probably believed that his daughter marrying the Duke of the North was the most fortunate event to happen to their family in generations.
Cassian's fingers moved upward along the diamonds until they rested against the side of Ella's throat.
His palm was warm.
She could feel her pulse beating hard against the pad of his thumb.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You admit that quickly."
"There's no point in lying. You enjoy being feared."
"Fear is more honest than flattery."
"So you like seeing me afraid?"
"I like that you're frightened and still willing to argue with me."
His thumb moved across her lower lip.
Ella did not pull away.
"Is that why you married me?"
"One reason."
"The other was my face?"
"Are you uncertain about your appearance?"
"I was only making sure Your Grace wasn't about to offer me some moving declaration."
"I'm not."
Cassian bent closer.
"Relax. I haven't fallen in love with you."
"That is reassuring."
His mouth came down on hers.
There was no careful first kiss.
No courteous restraint meant for a nervous bride.
Cassian caught the back of her neck and kissed her hard enough to force her backward. Ella's hand closed around the front of his shirt to steady herself.
The scent of blood grew stronger.
Wine lingered on his tongue when he pushed past her lips.
His other hand slid around her waist and dragged her closer until the hard line of his body pressed against her through the layers of her gown.
Ella's breath caught.
For one disorienting moment, the memory of the prophecy returned.
Cold steel ,Blood flooding beneath her dress.
The same man looking at her as though her death meant nothing.
She pressed a hand against his shoulder.
"Wait."
Cassian stopped.
He did not release her.
His mouth remained close enough that his breath brushed her lips.
"Regretting it?"
"No."
"Then why did you stop me?"
"I don't like other people deciding everything for me."
He watched her for a moment.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Ella did not answer immediately.
It was the first night of their marriage.
She knew exactly what marriage required.
She also knew what kind of man she had chosen to marry.
But she refused to let even this become something that merely happened to her.
"No," she said.
Cassian did not move.
"Say it clearly."
Ella held his gaze.
"I want this."
The room seemed to fall still.Something shifted in Cassian's eyes.
Not tenderness.
Hunger.
He lifted a hand and held her face.
"Don't misunderstand."
His voice had deepened.
"I'm not being considerate. I simply have no interest in bedding a woman who does nothing but cry and tremble."
"Your Grace always manages to make a normal sentence sound unpleasant."
"You knew what I was before you married me."
He kissed her again.
This time, Ella did not push him away.
The laces at the back of her gown loosened one by one beneath his fingers.
The bodice gradually slackened around her ribs.
Cool air touched the exposed skin of her shoulders, only to be replaced by the heat of his hands.
Cassian's touch was not gentle.
But neither was it careless.
He seemed intent on discovering every place that made her breath catch, every movement she could not hide, every response her pride refused to admit.
When her breathing truly faltered, he stopped.
Not to comfort her.
To make her look at him.
As though obedience alone was not enough.
He wanted her conscious.
He wanted her to know exactly who was touching her.
The gown slipped lower.
Ella instinctively caught the front of it.
Cassian looked down at her hand.
"Still shy?"
"I'm half undressed in front of a man with another person's blood on his sleeve."
"My sleeve is what concerns you?"
He caught her wrist and moved her hand aside.
The loosened fabric slid lower over her body.
Cassian did not look away.
His gaze travelled over her bare skin without apology, taking in the flush spreading across her chest and the rapid rise and fall of her breathing.
Ella felt the weight of that stare more sharply than his hands.
He looked at her as though the marriage had given him the right to discover every part of her.
As though he intended to make full use of it.
"That face was worth the wedding," he murmured.
Ella glared at him.
"Only the face?"
His mouth lowered to her breast.
Her answer broke apart.
Heat rushed through her when his lips closed over sensitive skin. His hand covered her other breast, thumb moving slowly until her body betrayed her with a shiver.
Cassian glanced up.
"There are other advantages."
"You are unbearable."
"And you're trembling."
"Because your hands are cold."
"They aren't."
He proved it by sliding one beneath the layers of her skirt.
His palm moved over her thigh.
Higher.
Ella went still.
Cassian did not rush.
His fingers travelled upward slowly, parting her legs a little at a time while he watched her face.
By the time he touched her between them, she was gripping his shoulder hard enough to wrinkle the black fabric beneath her fingers.
His eyes darkened.
Ella turned her face away.
Cassian caught her chin and forced her to look back.
"Don't hide now."
"You're enjoying this too much."
"I married you. I intend to enjoy you."
His fingers moved again.
Ella's breath broke.
The touch was too intimate, too deliberate.
He seemed to understand her body more quickly than she did—where to press, when to slow, how long to leave her waiting before touching her again.
Every time she tried to remain still, he found another response she could not control.
Every time she bit back a sound, he made her give him another.
When his name finally escaped her, Cassian's mouth curved.
"Again."
Ella shook her head.
He touched her more firmly.
Her back arched before she could stop it.
"Cassian."
Satisfaction flashed across his face.
Not affection.
The satisfaction of a man discovering where another person was weakest.
The tension inside her built until it became almost unbearable.
Then it broke.
Ella clung to him as pleasure passed through her in sharp, unfamiliar waves. Her body trembled against his hand, leaving her breathless and humiliated by how completely he had made her lose control.
Cassian watched every second of it.
Only when her breathing began to settle did he pull his hand away.
Ella saw the evidence of her arousal on his fingers and immediately looked aside.
Cassian caught her chin again.
"Too late to become modest."
"You are insufferably pleased with yourself."
"I usually am."
He lifted her from the edge of the bed and laid her among the white sheets.
The wedding gown fell open around her.
Cassian stood over her and removed his bloodstained shirt.
His body was marked with old scars.
Some were pale and narrow.
Others cut deeply across his shoulder and ribs.
Ella had only a moment to look before he began unfastening the rest of his clothes.
Her gaze dropped despite herself.
The sight of his arousal made her stomach tighten.
Cassian noticed.
"Still want me to continue?"
She hated how calm he sounded.
As though he were not standing over her naked and fully aroused.
As though her answer could remain untouched by everything he had already made her feel.
"Yes."
Cassian came down over her.
His knee pushed her thighs apart.
The hard length of him pressed against her entrance.
Ella's body tightened instinctively.
Cassian paused.
"Last chance."
She looked at the man who would one day walk toward her through fire with a sword in his hand.
This time, he knew her name.
This time, she had chosen to be here.
Ella reached up, caught the back of his neck, and pulled him closer.
"Don't stop."
Cassian pushed into her.
Pain came suddenly.
Sharp enough to tear a gasp from her throat.
Ella's fingers dug into his shoulders as her body resisted the unfamiliar intrusion.
Cassian went still.
For several breaths, neither of them moved.
His jaw was tense.
Waiting clearly cost him something.
"Does it hurt?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to pull out?"
Ella shut her eyes.
"No."
Cassian caught her chin.
"Look at me."
She forced her eyes open.
There was nothing gentle in his expression.
But he was waiting.
Not because he pitied her.
Because he wanted her conscious agreement more than he wanted passive submission.
"Slowly," she whispered.
"Use my name."
"Cassian."
He withdrew only slightly before pressing into her again.
The second movement still hurt, but less than the first.
His mouth moved against her throat while his hips began a controlled, measured rhythm.
Gradually, the pain softened.
It became pressure.
Then heat.
Then something deeper and stranger that spread through the lower half of her body.
Cassian slid a hand beneath her thigh and lifted it higher around his waist.
The changed angle drove him deeper.
Ella cried out.
His mouth covered hers, swallowing part of the sound.
Each thrust pushed the breath from her lungs.
The bed shifted beneath them.
The curtains trembled faintly around the posts.
Her hands moved from his shoulders to his back, no longer trying to hold him away.
Cassian felt the difference.
His control began to fray.
He moved harder, watching every expression that crossed her face.
When she tried to turn into the pillow to hide her sounds, he caught her hair and brought her face back toward him.
"I told you to look at me."
"You give too many orders."
"And you still obey some of them."
Ella opened her mouth to answer.
A deeper thrust stole the words.
Heat gathered inside her again, more intense than before.
Her body began to tighten around him without permission.
Cassian's breathing changed.
He lowered his forehead to hers.
"Ella."
There was strain in his voice now.
It was the first time that night her name sounded less like a possession and more like something he needed to say.
The tension inside her snapped.
Pleasure swept through her body, leaving her shaking beneath him.
Cassian's rhythm turned rougher as she clenched around him.
He drove himself fully inside her and held there, releasing with a low, harsh sound against her throat.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Ella could feel his heart pounding against her chest.
The same heart she had once imagined stopping with the dagger he gave her.
Eventually, Cassian shifted his weight.
But he did not let her go.
One arm remained locked around her waist, holding her body against his even after the urgency had passed.
It did not feel tender.
It felt possessive.
The candles burned low.
By the time the room grew quiet again, Ella barely had the strength to move.
Cassian lay beside her, one arm still secured around her waist.
It felt less like an embrace than a precaution against her slipping away while he slept.
Ella kept her eyes closed for a long time before speaking.
"Cassian."
"Mm."
"Will you honour that clause in our marriage contract?"
"Which one?"
"You cannot execute me without a formal trial."
His fingers tapped once against her waist.
"You're asking me that on our wedding night?"
"You killed a man at the wedding feast only a few hours ago."
"He was not my wife, and he had no contract with me."
"So I'm safer than he was?"
"For now."
Ella opened her eyes.
"For now?"
Cassian turned his head toward her.
"As long as you don't betray me."
"What counts as betrayal?"
"When you do it, I'll tell you."
"Won't that be too late?"
"Then don't do it."
His answers were always like that.
Simple.
Overbearing.
Leaving no room for argument.
Ella did not continue questioning him.
At least he acknowledged the contract.
At least before he decided to kill her, she would have a formal trial and witnesses from the Northern Council.
Those protections might not truly stop Cassian.
But they were still more than the woman in the prophecy had possessed.
Cassian suddenly spoke her name.
"Ella."
"What?"
"Sleep."
She closed her eyes again.
The man in the prophecy had not known her name.
He had never asked.
He had never cared enough to learn it.
Tonight, he had said it many times.
Ella did not know whether a name could stop a sword aimed at her heart.
But for now, it was the only thing she had truly changed.
