Adelheid stepped out of the manor. Her hand brushed over the clear red bruise her mother had left on her wrist, she sighed and wore her gloves, covering the marks completely.
Her gaze shifted to the grand black and gold carriage stationed in front of her, its golden palette gleaming under the sunlight.
The sight of it made her blood boil.
It was a reminder of her stepfather who had borrowed beyond his means to repay, and her mother's greed. Now, leaving she to bare the consequences.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides and she willed herself to look away.
Standing beside her was her lady companion. A girl of eighteen with soft features. Beatrice Alder, a daughter of lower nobles, had been assigned to accompany Adelheid to these social functions. Beatrice was a pleasant girl, though painfully obedient to rules Adelheid found stifling.
But before the girl could speak, Adelheid turned on her heel, making her way toward the second carriage parked further off. It was simpler and smaller, without golden palettes or fine craftsmanship.
"My lady—" Beatrice's voice carried urgency as she hurried after her. "Are you certain? This one is—"
"I will take this carriage." Adelheid's tone left no room for argument.
"But, my lady, the ladies at the event.. they are of high status." Beatrice's words were cautious. "If they see you arriving in this one.."
Adelheid closed her eyes briefly.
She knew what the women there were like. Their conversations were filled with charity and good deeds, yet their eyes searched for who held the most power amongst them—ridiculing anyone who didn't match up to their expectations.
"It doesn't matter." She stated simply.
Beatrice hesitated but nodded. With that, they both entered the carriage.
Adelheid sat stiffly as the carriage rocked along the streets, her gaze fixed on the elegant folds of her gown. A deep shade of cerulean twilight, the color was neither fully blue nor purple.
"You seem unsettled, my lady." Beatrice noted, tilting her head.
Adelheid exhaled, her fingers tapping against the seat. "I find no enjoyment in these gatherings."
"Then why attend?"
Adelheid gave her a small smile. "Because I must."
The truth was simple; the Eversleigh Women's Circle was not an event one ignored. Lady Vivienne Langston, first daughter of the esteemed Langston family, had been appointed president of the district's charitable board.
That meant she held influence, particularly over the noblewomen who prided themselves on doing good—or at least looking like they did. Skipping this would only spark unnecessary whispers.
The journey was relatively short. Soon, the horses slowed before a grand estate—the Langston Manor. Ivory stone and floor to ceiling windows gave it a pristine elegance with a garden perfectly trimmed.
As the carriage came to a stop, Adelheid stepped down, smoothing the fabric of her dress.
A charitable initiative—that was the purpose of today's gathering. The Women's Circle claimed their goal was aiding families struggling after the recent economic downturn, but Adelheid knew better.
These gatherings were merely an excuse to flaunt what truly mattered to these women—status. The real discussions revolved around displaying wealth, showing off husbands and parading those betrothed to eligible lords.
Helping the less fortunate was just a convenient excuse to gather.
Adelheid adjusted her gloves, straightened her gown before climbing the marble steps toward the entrance.
But just as she reached for the handle—
A hand suddenly caught her wrist from behind.
Beatrice was the first to react.
"Excuse me, sir, but you can't—"
Adelheid turned at the same time, her own words catching in her throat as she took in the man before her.
It was a man dressed in a simple commoner's outfit—worn boots and a cloak that had seen better days.
But his face..
His face did not resemble that of a commoner.
He had rich brown hair, neatly combed back as though he had styled it with care. His striking emerald green eyes gleamed under the afternoon sun, with his jaw too defined and his posture too refined—this did not resemble a man who spent his days toiling in the fields.
Something was off.
Beatrice glanced nervously at Adelheid. "My lady, should I call for a guard?"
Adelheid shook her head. "Why is that necessary?"
Without hesitation, she reached into her purse, her fingers brushing against the few silver coins she carried. She pulled them out and extended her hand to the man with a small smile.
"My apologies sir, but this is all I have.."
But instead of taking it and leaving, he blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. Not mocking, just amused. Then he casually reached into his pocket and pulled out a single gold coin. Without a word, he placed it on top of the silvers in her palm.
"There." He said with a grin. "Now we're even."
Adelheid stared at the coin and arched a brow. A gold sovereign? That was no small sum—certainly more than what she had offered him.
She lifted her gaze back to him. A man dressed like him should not be casually carrying a gold sovereign, let alone handing one out as if it were pocket change.
"..Where did you get this?" Her voice was calm, but her eyes held suspicion.
Cassian's smile widened slightly, his emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. "Knowing won't change a thing my lady."
Adelheid stilled, her brows furrowing.
Beatrice on the other hand, let out a sharp gasp. "Is this some kind of joke?" She eyed the gold coin with deep suspicion before turning to Adelheid. "My lady, don't be fooled. I've seen these cheap imitations before. That's no real sovereign!"
Adelheid's fingers curled around the coin.
It was real.
She knew how to tell the difference. The imitations were rather light weighted and had no shine when the sun hit them, this did.
Beatrice scoffed in disbelief, adding. "So that's your game? Bringing fake gold coins to make a fool of us? Listen, you should have been grateful for what my lady offered—"
Cassian gave an easy smile, lifting his hands in surrender. "Do I look ungrateful?"
Beatrice was about to retort but Adelheid stoped her and studied him, something at the back of her mind told her this man was not letting off everything he showed.
Cassian shook his head with a chuckle before reaching into the coat's pocket, pulling out the letter Zamiel had instructed him to deliver.
He turned it over in his fingers before presenting it to her.
"This." He spoke. "Is from His Majesty."
Adelheid arched a brow as she stared at the letter in his hand then at man before her.
From the way he dressed—boots caked in dust, a cloak that barely hung together, he hardly looked like someone with ties to the King.
She lifted her gaze, skepticism in her voice. "From the way you present yourself, I find it difficult to believe you have any connection with His Majesty."
Cassian, unfazed, simply grinned. "Well, I do indeed have a connection with His Majesty. Matter of fact, I and His Majesty are close friends."
Beatrice, who had been trying to hold back her laughter, finally let out a soft chuckle. "Forgive me, sir, but I find that even harder to believe."
Adelheid twitched slightly at Beatrice's words but kept her gaze firmly on Cassian. She knew all too well that many claimed ties to the king—whether for status, favor, or deceit.
This man was no different. Or at least, he seemed suspicious enough.
Cassian sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. I work for His Majesty. I am his.." He paused, tilting his head as if considering his words. "Personal messenger, let's say."
Beatrice scoffed. "A personal messenger? Then why are you dressed like—"
"Unfortunately." Cassian cut in smoothly. "I got into some trouble on my way here, so I had to.. improvise." He gestured at his tattered cloak. "Not my best look, I'll admit."
Adelheid's gaze shifted downward to the letter in her hands. The seal pressed into the wax bore the unmistakable royal emblem—The King's initials perfectly stamped in gold.
Forgery was impossible.
Every noble knew that no one could replicate the royal seal, no matter how skilled. If this letter bore it, then it could only mean one thing.
This man was telling the truth.
Her grip on the letter tightened slightly.
What in the world was happening?
First, the unexpected proposal. And now.. a letter, delivered in secrecy, from His Majesty, once more?
Without another word, she carefully broke the seal, unfolding the parchment.
Cassian's curious gaze watched her intently as she took out the letter to read its contents, her eyes scanning the words.
The moment she grasped their meaning, he saw a deep frown settle on her face.
Her eyes skimmed over the words again, as if a second reading might change their meaning. "Impossible."
Beatrice turned her head towards the latter's, sensing the shift in her demeanor. Cassian's smirk also faded slightly and he tilted his head briefly.
Adelheid's grip on the letter turned rigid, her frown deepening.
"Why would His Majesty write something like this?"