the Villainess they took for granted

Chapter 40: Chapter 40: Tomorrow

Adrian liked order.

It was one of the reasons he was good at what he did.

Kingdoms were complicated things.

People imagined crowns as symbols.

Ceremonies.

Power.

Glory.

The reality was paperwork.

An endless mountain of paperwork.

Trade reports.

Military reports.

Tax reports.

Infrastructure proposals.

Letters from nobles.

Letters from foreign dignitaries.

Letters from people who apparently believed the Crown Prince personally solved every problem in the Empire.

It was exhausting.

It was familiar.

And familiarity was comforting.

Especially lately.

Adrian signed another document.

Set it aside.

Reached for the next.

Sunlight streamed through the windows of his study.

Outside, the hunting retreat continued around him.

Guests wandered the grounds.

Socialized.

Relaxed.

Adrian envied them slightly.

Only slightly.

His responsibilities came first.

They always had.

The thought brought an uncomfortable memory.

Choose me.

The words returned unexpectedly.

Adrian closed his eyes briefly.

Not now.

Yet the memory persisted.

Marian standing beside the stream.

Angry.

Hurt.

Heartbroken.

Choose me.

The frustration returned immediately.

Because he still didn’t understand.

Not completely.

He had chosen her.

Years ago.

The day their engagement was announced.

The day he’d promised her a future.

The day he’d decided there would never be anyone else.

The choice had never changed.

So why had she looked at him as though he had betrayed her?

The question remained unanswered.

And perhaps that was why the distance had become necessary.

Because every conversation had turned into another argument.

Every attempt at understanding had somehow become another misunderstanding.

The last few days had been different.

Quieter.

Calmer.

Painful.

But calmer.

Maybe that was a good sign.

Maybe they simply needed space.

Time.

The thought settled comfortably into place.

Tomorrow.

He would speak to her tomorrow.

When emotions had cooled.

When neither of them was angry.

When neither of them was hurting.

Tomorrow.

The familiar certainty soothed him.

Then Adrian returned to work.

And missed the irony entirely.

By afternoon, the retreat had gathered near the western lake.

Small white pavilions had been erected beneath the trees.

Tables filled with refreshments lined the shore.

Several guests had organized target shooting further down the field.

Others simply wandered the lakeside paths.

It was pleasant.

The sort of event noble families adored.

Marian disliked it immediately.

Not because anything was wrong.

Because everything was normal.

She was beginning to suspect normality had become her enemy.

A servant offered her tea.

She accepted automatically.

Then glanced across the gathering.

Adrian was speaking with several nobles.

Of course he was.

Marian looked away.

Far more quickly than she would have a week ago.

The realization should have saddened her.

Instead it merely felt tired.

Exhausted.

Like an old wound she no longer wanted to touch.

Then another familiar figure entered her field of vision.

Cassian.

The realization arrived without surprise.

Which was perhaps the surprising part.

A few days ago, she would have found the thought strange.

Now?

Now she simply noticed him.

The same way one noticed sunshine.

Or music.

Or trouble.

Particularly trouble.

The man was speaking with a group of nobles.

Laughing at something.

Effortlessly charming.

Infuriatingly attractive.

Marian immediately regretted that observation.

Not because it wasn’t true.

Because it was.

A dangerous distinction.

As though sensing her attention, Cassian glanced up.

Their eyes met briefly.

Neither looked away immediately.

Another dangerous development.

Then Cassian inclined his head.

A simple greeting.

Nothing unusual.

Yet Marian found herself smiling before she realized she was doing it.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

Clearly her judgment remained compromised.

The afternoon progressed slowly.

Guests drifted between activities.

Conversations formed and dissolved.

At some point Marian found herself standing beside Cassian.

Neither could later remember exactly how it happened.

Which was alarming.

Because a week ago such a thing would have required explanation.

Now it simply...

happened.

They discussed the target competition.

Then a ridiculous story involving a horse.

Then somehow an argument about literature.

Then politics.

Then whether swans were secretly malicious creatures.

Marian remained firmly convinced they were.

Cassian remained wrong.

Naturally.

"You’re impossible."

"I’ve been told."

"Frequently, I imagine."

"Mostly by you."

The answer arrived so quickly that Marian laughed.

A genuine laugh.

The sort that escaped before she could stop it.

Cassian paused.

Just for a moment.

A tiny moment.

Yet something about it felt strange.

As though he’d forgotten what he’d been about to say.

Then the moment vanished.

Gone as quickly as it appeared.

Neither acknowledged it.

Across the gathering, a young noblewoman approached Cassian.

Beautiful.

Confident.

Determined.

The type of woman who usually got exactly what she wanted.

She smiled brightly.

Cassian smiled back.

Polite.

Charming.

Easy.

The conversation lasted several minutes.

Marian paid absolutely no attention whatsoever.

None.

Not even a little.

The fact that she knew exactly how many minutes had passed was entirely coincidental.

Eventually the woman departed.

Cassian returned.

Immediately.

As though resuming a conversation rather than beginning one.

The realization caught Marian off guard.

Not because he returned.

Because she had expected him not to.

An odd expectation.

One she chose not to examine.

Beside her, Cassian seemed distracted.

Only slightly.

The sort of distraction most people would miss.

Marian didn’t.

Perhaps because she was beginning to recognize his moods.

A realization that should probably concern her.

"What’s wrong?"

The question escaped before she could stop it.

Cassian looked genuinely surprised.

Then amused.

"Nothing."

"Liar."

The answer arrived automatically.

Cassian laughed.

And Marian realized she had begun calling him a liar with alarming frequency.

Another concerning development.

One of many.

For a moment, neither spoke.

The lake shimmered in the afternoon sunlight.

Voices drifted through the breeze.

Peaceful.

Comfortable.

Dangerously comfortable.

And for reasons neither entirely understood—

neither seemed particularly eager to leave.

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