Deviating from the original plot

Chapter forty-six

A/n: Wooow, we have reached 2k reads! Thank you everyone. I am so happy!

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About an hour later, a soft knock echoed at the study door.

"Your Highness, Her Majesty requests your presence," the maid said.

Cassius exhaled slowly, already anticipating the lecture his mother would deliver.

"I'll be there," he muttered, straightening his posture as the maid bowed and left. Rising from his chair, he smoothed his clothes and made his way toward the queen's chambers.

Upon entering the chambers, Cassius hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open, maintaining a carefully controlled expression.

His mother sat on a loveseat, focused on arranging flowers.

"Your Majesty," he greeted with a bow, but she didn't acknowledge him, her attention fixed on trimming the stems and placing each blossom meticulously into the vase. 

Finally, she spoke. "Cassius," she said, "how have you been?"

"I've been well, Your Majesty," he replied.

She clicked her tongue, setting down a flower before finally turning her gaze toward him. "Well, I've heard otherwise. The servants reported hearing two loud, painful smacks coming from your study when your fiancée visited today. I want a full explanation of what transpired."

"Your Majesty," Cassius began cautiously, "I admit there was an incident, but it was not as it may have seemed. Lady Celeste—she acted rashly. I did nothing to provoke her except speak the truth. She struck me twice before storming out."

"The truth?" the queen echoed, arching a brow. "And what truth could possibly drive her to such behaviour?"

"I—" Cassius faltered, then forced himself upright. "I said little, truly. She was the one who overreacted. She insulted my honour, and I had no choice but to defend it."

"Defend your honour?" his mother repeated, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Cassius, you are the crown prince. You are expected to show composure, especially within your own household. To lose control over something so trivial reflects poorly not only on you but on the crown itself."

Cassius swallowed, pride bruised. "I understand."

"Besides," the queen continued, setting another flower into the vase, "why must you persist in being so unkind to poor Celeste? She has adored you since childhood. You should count yourself fortunate to be betrothed to someone who truly loves you. Few can boast the same. And yet, you repay her affection with nothing but coldness and cruelty. I cannot comprehend you, Cassius."

"Celeste is obsessive and overbearing," he replied sharply. "I wish to marry someone for whom I actually hold affection, not someone forced upon me."

His mother shook her head and returned her attention to her arrangement. "Affection can be learnt, if only you would allow yourself the chance. Instead, you remain obstinate and defiant. It is most insufferable."

Cassius frowned.

The queen set down her shears, her gaze narrowing as she finally gave him her full attention. "You may go."

Cassius bowed stiffly before leaving his mother's chambers, irritation simmering beneath his composed exterior. He could never understand why the queen favoured Celeste so much—it grated on him every time. His mind drifted back to the first day it all began, the memory etched sharply in his thoughts.

He had been summoned to the royal gardens—a rare occurrence, since his mother seldom asked for his presence. There, in the gazebo, sat the queen with Duchess Amelia, Celeste's mother, both women enjoying their tea together.

"Cassius," his mother had called sweetly. "I would like you to meet your betrothed. Come and say hello to young Celeste."

"Betrothed?" he echoed, caught off guard.

The little girl in frilled silks stood, offering a curtsy. "Hello, Your Highness. I am Celeste Ashford. It is an honour to make your acquaintance."

"...Hello," Cassius had muttered, barely above a whisper.

His mother clasped her hands together with delight. "Oh, isn't she simply adorable, Cassius?"

Duchess Amelia laughed softly, praising her daughter's manners, while the queen went on at length about what a "fortunate match" this would be.

"She's so perfect," the queen said with a radiant smile directed at Celeste. Cassius felt a pang of jealousy twist inside him. His mother rarely looked at him that way—her face was always cold, stoic, and almost disapproving. Yet here she was, beaming at Celeste, speaking of her grace and intelligence as if she were everything Cassius had never been.

No matter how hard he tried, his efforts never earned him more than a passing glance. Whenever he voiced his grievances about Celeste, his mother brushed them aside or, worse, defended the girl without hesitation. To Cassius, it felt as though his mother had chosen Celeste over him. And he hated her for it.

But it's not going to matter anymore in a few months; he just needs to wait.

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The next few days slipped by as Victoria wrestled with her thoughts, trying to unravel how best to begin her divine task.

She sat at her vanity, a journal open before her. Her mind churned restlessly, when a soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"My lady, I've brought some tea," Anne said gently as she stepped inside, balancing a silver tray.

Victoria lifted her head, her gaze softening at the sight of her maid. "Thank you, Anne. Just set it there."

Anne placed the tray carefully on the side table, then lingered, her eyes full of concern. Victoria hadn't seemed herself these past few days, and it troubled her.

"Is something weighing on your mind, my lady?" Anne asked at last.

Victoria tapped the end of her pen against the open journal, her gaze fixed on the word 'Seer'. "You could say that."

Anne hesitated, then ventured, "Is there any way I might help?"

Victoria fell silent for a moment, considering how much she could reveal. At length, she murmured, "Do you know if there is someone... called a Seer?"

"A Seer?" Anne tilted her head. "You mean, like a fortune-teller?"

"Fortune-teller?" Victoria repeated.

"Yes," Anne explained, "that's what they're sometimes called—because they see your fortune."

"Oh..." Victoria nodded slowly; it's beginning to make more sense now.

Anne studied her curiously. "Is that why you've been troubled, my lady? Do you want your fortune read?"

"Well..." Victoria replied carefully. "I do think I need to meet one."

"I understand," Anne said with a small nod. "There is one in the downtown quarter, though she keeps her work very discreet."

"Discreet? Why?"

"Because the imperial guards have been cracking down on anyone who practises such arts, detaining them," Anne explained.

'Probably because of the Black Mage issue,' Victoria thought.

"But... will I be able to meet her?" Victoria asked carefully.

"You can," Anne reassured her. "I'll speak with Freya—she can help."

Victoria exhaled softly and smiled. "Thank you, Anne. I'd appreciate that."

"It's my pleasure, my lady," Anne said warmly before leaving.

Victoria tapped the journal with her finger and muttered under her breath, "Of course... a fortune teller."

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