Chapter 143: The Morning After
Sleep had taken Cassian like a thief in the dark—unwelcome, uninvited, and yet ruthless in its grip.
He hadn’t meant to rest. He couldn’t. Not when his mind roared like a storm-tossed sea, each thought colliding with the next in a relentless churn. There had been no peace, no stillness. Just a mess of tangled emotions, sharp fragments of shame, and the ghost of Prince Dorian’s hands still echoing across his skin.
But his body had its own will, and it betrayed him—just like always. Bone-deep exhaustion dragged him under the moment his frame hit the bed. Still damp from the bath, hair curling at the nape of his neck, he hadn’t even bothered to dry off before collapsing beneath the quilt. Somewhere between one breath and the next, he’d lost consciousness.
When he finally stirred, the world around him was softened by morning light. Gold streaks filtered through the gauzy curtains, stretching across the polished stone floor in long, serene patterns. His limbs felt impossibly heavy, as if he’d been turned to marble in his sleep.
The air carried a warm scent—clove, cinnamon, and something faintly floral he couldn’t name. It curled around him like a memory, calming, almost tender. Slowly, he blinked the haze from his eyes and that’s when he noticed the tray.
Placed neatly on the low table beside the bed, it wasn’t extravagant, but it was thoughtful. Comforting in its simplicity.
Steam rose gently from a bowl of porridge, its scent nutty and spiced. Next to it, fresh fruit had been arranged with surprising care—slices of pear, pomegranate seeds glistening like rubies, wedges of citrus curled just so.
A ceramic cup rested nearby, pale and smooth. When he reached for it, the warmth of it grounded him, pulled him back into the present.
His stomach responded instantly, growling in protest.
Cassian winced, pressing a hand to his abdomen. Right. He hadn’t eaten a thing last night.