The Dragon Queen Selection Chapter 42

CASSIAN.

The night dragged on with no answers.

The guards and I questioned every servant who’d handled the wine trays, tore through the kitchens, even searched the girls’ chambers under the Queen’s orders. Nothing. No vials, no powders, no traces of anything that could explain the poison. The servant boy who’d handed Calista’s goblet swore himself hoarse, sobbing that he only wanted to give Calista the wine because everyone knew she always asked specifically for Elderberry wine.

And the girls… even though many of them were fired, none of them could provide a shred of evidence.

They didn't know anything.

By the time I returned to my own chambers, frustration pressed down on me like a weight. Whoever had done this had slipped through my fingers cleanly. That was what burned the most. I’d been trained my whole life to see threats, to sniff out deception. Tonight, someone had played their hand and vanished into the crowd.

I poured myself a drink, stronger than the usual. Then another. By the fourth, I was leaning against the edge of my desk, staring at the candlelight flickering across the maps and reports spread before me. My head buzzed, not enough to blur, but enough to loosen the tight edge I usually carried.

A knock came at the door. Sharp, quick.

I set the cup down. “Who is it?”

“Cassian, it’s me.”

Saphira.

I opened the door, and before I could say a word, she slipped inside like a shadow, her silk night-robe brushing past me. Her hair was loose, tumbling down her shoulders, and her face was pale.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, closing the door behind her, wondering why my guards had let her in my chambers.

She turned, her eyes wide, glistening in the firelight. “I… I couldn’t sleep. I’m scared. After what happened tonight, what if it happens again? What if it’s me next time?”

“You’ll be safe,” I said firmly. “You need to go back to your room before someone catches you here."

Her head shook quickly, almost desperate. “No. Don't worry, I made sure no one saw me. I used a dark cloak and I made sure the guards were on rotation before leaving. Please, not tonight. The walls feel like they’re closing in. Every sound, every creak, I feel like someone’s watching me."

I sighed, rubbing my temple. “Saphira..."

“Cassian, please.” Her voice trembled just enough to tug at my patience.

I studied her a moment longer. She was wound tight as a bowstring, trembling in truth or performance, I couldn’t decide which. Finally, I exhaled, resigned. “Fine. One drink. And then you’re going back.”

Relief washed over her features. She nodded quickly. “Alright.”

I crossed to the table, poured two cups, and handed one to her. She sipped almost greedily, as if the wine could wash away her fear.

Silence stretched between us for a beat before she spoke again, softer this time. “Do you think it could be one of the girls?”

I leaned back in my chair, swirling the cup in my hand. “I don’t know yet.”

“But if it is… if it’s someone sitting among us every day.." Her voice cracked. “That’s terrifying.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, sharper than intended. I softened a moment later. “It’s my job to worry. Yours is to stay calm until I figure out who’s behind it.”

Her eyes lingered on me, searching. “You always sound so sure.”

“I have to.”

The wine warmed my chest more than usual. I stood, brushing a hand through my hair, I couldn't let her stay anymore. “That’s enough for tonight. Go back to your room.”

I moved toward the door, but before I could open it, she was suddenly there, closing the distance.

“Cassian..."

Her lips pressed against mine. Sudden. Abrupt.

For a moment, I froze, caught off guard, the taste of wine still on her breath, her hands brushing my chest.

Then I pulled back sharply, breath catching.

She pulled me back in again, the taste of her was sweet, pungent, like the wine we'd been drinking, and for a heartbeat, a single, disorienting heartbeat, my mind went blank. The frustration, the investigation, the weight of it all vanished, muffled by the soft press of her mouth and the warm, insistent pressure of her body against mine.

She deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in my hair, the other sliding up my chest. A low sound escaped her, a mix of triumph and desire that should have been a warning. But the wine had done its work, blurring the edges of my judgment, smothering the voice that screamed this is a mistake. My hands, which had been raised to push her away, instead found her waist. The silk of her robe was whisper thin, and I could feel the heat of her skin beneath it.

"Cassian," she breathed against my lips, her voice a throaty whisper that seemed to vibrate through me. "You have no idea how l've wanted this."

Her words were a spark to the tinder of my own pent up frustration. The failure of the night, the constant, grating pressure of it all sought an outlet, and she was offering one. A reckless, stupid, intoxicating outlet.

I kissed her back. It wasn't gentle or questioning, it was a claiming, a release of all the tension that had been coiling inside me for weeks. I backed her toward the bed, my movements rough, fueled by a dark hunger l'd kept tightly leashed. The rational part of me, the prince, the investigator, was drowning in a haze of alcohol and need.

She fell back onto the bed, her hair fanning out around her like a dark halo.

Her eyes were wide, gleaming with victory and something wilder. I followed her down, bracing myself over her. Her fingers worked frantically at the laces of my tunic, then at the fastenings of my trousers. My own hands shoved the silk robe from her shoulders, exposing smooth supple skin that glowed in the firelight. She was all soft curves and eager gasps, arching into my touch.

There was no more talking. Only the ragged sound of our breathing, the rustle of fabric, the creak of the bed as I settled between her legs. She wrapped them around my hips, pulling me closer, her nails digging into my back. When I entered her, it was with a single, driving thrust that made her cry out loudly.

I lost myself in the rhythm of it. I was no longer a prince, I was just a man, chasing a feeling, using her body to forget. She met every movement with a fervor that matched my own, her whispers becoming incoherent, her hands clutching at me as if I were the only solid thing she ever held.

It was over quickly, a frantic, desperate coupling that left us both breathless and slick with sweat. The climax was a shuddering release that left me hollowed out and empty.

I collapsed beside her, my heart my heart hammering against my ribs. The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. The haze of wine and lust began to recede, and in its place, a cold, sharp clarity returned.

What had I done?