Deviating from the original plot

Chapter ninety-two

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"Something," she answered curtly, not looking at him.

Cassius hesitated. "I realised I might've been... a nuisance to you, in particular."

Evelyn finally turned to him, expression flat. "You think? You didn't even stop to consider how your actions might've affected anyone else. You just wanted what you wanted—selfishly."

"I know," Cassius admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly, I wouldn't have thought about it at all if not for my mother."

Evelyn's glare sharpened. "Are you seriously trying to use me to work through your mother issues?"

"I don't have mother issues!" he snapped.

"Hard to believe," she said dryly, crossing her arms.

He sighed. "Well... maybe I did. But I think I've dealt with it—at least a little. I just... I don't want to end up like my father."

Evelyn's tone softened, though only slightly. "What's the deal with your parents anyway?"

Cassius looked away, his jaw tightening. "I expected that. Let's just say—my father was everything a man shouldn't be. Controlling, proud, never wrong. My mother lived with that for years. I don't want to continue like that."

"That's good for you," Evelyn said with a small smile.

"Thank you," Cassius replied earnestly. "I'm not asking you to forgive me right away, but... I just wanted you to know that I've changed. And I truly regret what I did."

"Understood," Evelyn nodded. "Just make sure you keep to your word."

"I will," Cassius said with a quiet chuckle.

After their business at the smithy, Victoria and the prince returned to her family estate. The evening had settled into a cool calm, the orange light of the setting sun spilling through the windows as they entered the foyer.

"Go rest, okay?" Victoria said, already heading for the staircase. 

Cassius nodded, watching her ascend. "Alright."

Cassius stood there for a moment, watching her go. He exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. She always knows what to do, he thought. She's composed, decisive, strong... everything a leader should be.

He smiled faintly to himself. For most of his life, people had called him a prodigy—the Crown Prince who could do no wrong, the genius swordsman. But standing beside Victoria, he realised how much more there was to being great. It didn't make him feel small; it made him want to rise higher.

Driven by that thought, he turned and made his way toward the courtyard. The moonlight poured over the flagstones as he drew his sword, the steel gleaming pale under the night sky.

He began to move—swift, deliberate strikes cutting through the air, the rhythmic sound of his blade echoing softly. Sweat formed on his brow as he pushed himself harder, each motion sharper than the last.

After a while, Cassius paused mid-swing, his focus breaking at the sound of muffled grunts and dull thuds echoing from somewhere beyond the courtyard. He frowned, sheathed his sword, and followed the noise—each step drawing him closer to the old shed where Damien was being held.

The noises grew louder, more frantic. Cassius flung the door open.

The sight before him made his stomach twist. Damien was slumped against the wall, his forehead split and bleeding from repeatedly striking it against the wooden boards. A dark bruise coiled around his neck as if invisible hands had been squeezing the life out of him. He gasped and trembled, sweat dripping from his pale skin.