The Half-Class by Kayvion Lewis

Chapter Forty-Three

So many new faces, each with names I was supposed to remember. But I didn’t bother committing any of them to long-term memory. There was no point.

From the moment King Dreux and I descended the final flight of stairs, the world became a blur. He almost seemed happy to introduce me to the first wave of guests. I greeted them all with passion. After all, I was the mistress of a prince. I was supposed to be glowing with pride.

Cassian found us in no time and stole me away from his father. His company did nothing to improve my inner state. I couldn’t stop staring at his eyes; the heavy bags had never disappeared, not since that morning. No one else over the past days had seemed to notice. Or if they had, they said nothing.

I waltzed through the party in a daze. Time became erratic. Moments passed like years, but hours passed like seconds. On the outside, I put out every ounce of joy and jest I could muster, but on the inside, I felt like death. I prayed for it to end.

The formalities passed, then dinner, then games, and so on. Of all the moments, my heart hurt the most when Donnie or Sir West was at my side. They might have been the only people I truly regretted not asking Gilow to spare.

When every game had been played, and I exchanged words with every guest at least once, the party drew to an end. Guests started peeling away to their rooms, and when all but a handful were gone, King Dreux bid us all good night, and the remainder of us were free to disperse as well.

The very last to leave, Cassian twined his fingers in mine as we strolled out of the great room.

“Exhausted yet?” he joked. His voice sounded unusually condescending.

“Are you kidding? I thought the party was just getting started.”

He smirked. “I’m glad you had a good time. I promise there won’t be any shortage of parties and feasts to come.”

You couldn’t be more wrong, Prince Cassian.

I inadvertently found myself glancing back up to Cassian’s lagging eyes.

“Are you going to ask?” Cass said.

My gaze shot ahead. “About what?”

“You’ve been staring at me for days. I thought you would have asked by now.”

“Ask what?”

“What’s wrong with me.”

I tried very hard not to grimace. “I figured you would tell me what was the matter in your own time.”

He squeezed his fingers between mine. “I wanted you to ask so I’d have a reason to tell you. I thought I wouldn’t say anything on my own, but I was wrong.”

“Just tell me.” I had no patience left. “Say whatever you need to say.”

Cassian led me away from the stairs as the rest of the guests ascended them sweeping me into the little sitting nook just under the stairs. I sat down and crossed my arms.

Go ahead, Cassian. Lie to me. Tell me something sweet to make me love you even more. Tell me a lie.

Cassian raked his hands through his hair. “Evie, I made a mistake.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever it was, I’m sure it’s not that bad. It can’t be bothering you that much.”

“It is.”

His conviction took me aback. I stared at him with wide eyes as he went on. “That friend of yours, the one who I freed from that officer.”

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood. No. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t do this now.

“What about Luke?”

He took a shaky breath. “The other night, when you came here, and I sent Donnie to deliver a letter to your aunt…Evie, he was there. Donnie told me how forceful he was with your aunt and Kat. He said he could hear the screaming from outside. Your cousin and some other women were weeping inside the apartment. Donnie told me he was screaming at them. He demanded that he would see you when you returned. Evie, I thought he would hurt you. Somehow, I put it together that you really came here because you were afraid. I thought you would tell me in your own in time, but—" He paused. “I saw it in his eyes the day I met him. The way he looked at us. Just the thought of him attacking you or your family—I had to do something.”

Luke screaming and throwing things—I wished I could say it was ridiculous. But on the contrary, it made far too much sense. I could practically see the scene playing out in my mind.

But was that supposed to justify Cass’s reaction?

“What did you do to him?” I muttered.

“Lovely.” Cass knelt down before me. “Nothing I’m proud of.”

“Tell me exactly.”

He looked up at me, and I realized that it wasn’t exhaustion that had been coloring his face for these past few days. It was shame. “I sent some officers to...to intimidate him. They hurt him. Five nights ago. Not badly enough to cripple, but bad. I told them not to kill him, though.”

I clenched my skirts over my lap. “I would have told you if I was in danger.”

“I know, and I should have known that, but I couldn’t take the chance. It was a mistake, Evie, and it’s been weighing heavier on me each day.”

I shrank back. Why did he have to tell me this? Why couldn’t he have kept his cruel secret to himself? Why couldn’t he just let me hate him?

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. “How am I supposed to feel about this?”

“Whatever you want, Lovely.” He reached out to touch me but held back. “I never want to stifle your emotions, even if they are against me. But I want you to know that my actions, however regrettable, were born out of love for you.”

“That’s not the kind of love I want, Cass.”

“I know, and it’s not the kind you deserve. You deserve better.”

He rose to his feet and paced before me. “I’m trying really hard not to be my father. I try every day. Sometimes, he gets the better of me, and I find myself doing things I don’t want to do. Things that I know are wrong, but he would tell me were right. I’m trying to be a better man than him. For Ryland, for myself, and now for you.”

Did he really mean this? Was it some cruel manipulation? Maybe he was a monster, but not by choice. A monster who wanted to change. A monster who wanted to be a man.

That didn’t change what he had done. It didn’t change the perspective I’d gained. He hurt someone I cared about. He was still the enemy. What kind of rebel has sympathy for the enemy?

“Evelyn.” He dropped down before me again. I saw all of him. His ruffled hair, his sorrowful green eyes, his trembling face. “I’m sorry.”

My heart ached. Was I supposed to backtrack now? To go back to my desire to save his life? That was selfish of me from the start. I’d let him blind me from the greater picture. Hating him for these past days showed me that. Saving him, against the will of the people who were fighting for my freedom, against what Gilow and Jace and everyone else in the rebellion wanted and were risking for change, was cruelly self-serving.

I thought I knew Cass well enough that he would never do something like what he did to Luke—in any circumstance. I was wrong. I could be wrong again. Who’s to say if he lived through this and made it back home to his throne in Ryland, he wouldn’t try to keep things going just as they were.

I didn’t know anything for sure. Except that looking into his trembling eyes now and imagining his death tomorrow felt like the most unfair thing in the world. But if I took my heart out of the equation for even a second, then letting him perish was the only fair thing to do.

Which side was I supposed to listen to?

If I had years to decide, I still might not know. But I had only a night.

Time was ticking again. For now, I answered with one thing I thought I was sure of.

“I forgive you.”