To His Hell and Back-Chapter 80: Freezing The Heart

Cassius isn’t deterred by the question asked by the King. Instead, with the same smirk, he looked at his father and then furrowed his eyebrows, giving him the look as if his father had lost his mind. He answered with a matter of fact tone, "My crown, of course. Have you forgotten what I had to do to be here?"

The King could tell the sarcasm, but he didn’t seem unhappy with it, instead delighted to see that his son wasn’t foolish enough to believe in things like love, which could fade as easy as an ink. He nodded, "Next time-"

"There won’t be next time," Cassius ensured, and the King finally broke into a smile.

His grave eyes softened as if he was looking at his proudest son. "Good. Never forget what it is that is important to you, Cassius."

The King’s smile was a rare thing, a dangerous thing. It was not the smile of a father but that of a ruler pleased with his heir’s ruthlessness. On nights like this, Cassius had seen it before in moments when he proved himself worthy, not of love, but of survival.

Cassius held his father’s gaze, his smirk unwavering despite the blood drying against his skin. He knew the game too well. He had learned it through agony, through steel and fire, through every lesson carved into his bones. His father did not seek loyalty or affection. He sought dominance, control, and the assurance that his son would be strong enough to uphold his legacy without faltering.

Cassius had never faltered.

With that single word, the conversation ended. The test was over, and Cassius had once again emerged victorious. But victory in this family came at a cost. It always did.

As the guards loosened his restraints and stepped back, Cassius rose to his feet, his movements smooth despite the ache coursing through his body. He ignored the sting, the bruises forming beneath his fine clothes. Pain was temporary. Power was forever. freewёbnoνel.com

He inclined his head ever so slightly, a mockery of respect, before turning on his heel and pressing his fingers on the fresh wounds. Noting that it would heal rather slowly, he didn’t bother to address those wounds and instead dressed himself. He pulled the tunic over his broad shoulder, and the wound stung as the tunic that was once brown turned reddish. He frowned and threw aside the tunic when Renard, who was quick on his feet, had given him a deep maroon colored tunic, one that would hide all the wounds.

Cassius uttered nothing as he re-dressed himself. This wasn’t the first time, nor will it be the last time. His father never had a "son" but a pet who had been trained by him. Ironic for someone who had a pet as well, but he would never treat his pet like the King, heartless, abusive, and all for control.

But that didn’t matter. It didn’t, as long as the throne was still his to take. And no matter what price he had to pay, Cassius would claim it.

He turned and left the dungeon as the King had disappeared back into the shadows, as if he had never been there at all. The silence that followed was deafening; the absence of his father’s presence was like a burden lifted from his shoulders.

Renard followed behind him, silent as always, the perfect attendant. He knew better than to offer unnecessary words or pointless sympathies. Cassius wouldn’t accept them. Wouldn’t acknowledge them. The only thing that mattered was that he had survived. Again.

As they walked through the dimly lit corridors, Cassius rolled his shoulders, the fresh wounds tugging against his skin. The sting was sharp, but he had felt worse. He had endured worse. His body would heal. His mind, sharpened like the very blades that had cut him, remained unbroken.

The palace was quiet at this hour, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the grand halls. It was almost peaceful. Almost.

Cassius smirks bitterly.

Peace was an illusion. One he would never afford himself.

Not until the throne was his.

Ruffling his hair, he could hear Renard, who spoke from behind him, "Your Highness, earliest morning tomorrow, your aunt and cousins will be making a visit to the castle."

Cassius briefly exhaled. "Another annoying one. Why?" While they are a family, they would still need permission and a reason to easily step inside the castle, and Cassius wondered what that lovely aunt of his had requested that she was allowed to come and play in the castle.

"The King had been the one to invite them," Renard answered, hesitating, "Until the end of the human hunt."

His retainer didn’t need to utter a word; Cassius already understood. His father was furious over his failure to retrieve the elusive potion, a threat to the very foundation of his authority. The night’s relentless punishment had been proof enough of his wrath, yet it didn’t signify forgiveness. No, the king’s anger still simmered, festering into something more dangerous. And now, that anger had a target. Arabella. He would see her as the root of this humiliation, a distraction, a weakness. And to prove his indifference, to prove his son had no care for his pet, Cassius knew his father would put him to the test now.

Cassius let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. Of course. His father wasn’t done with his games. The punishment tonight had only been the beginning, and now came the performance; the castle was like the carnival itself, perhaps even more entertaining with its jester now.

His aunt, Lady Genevieve, was as cunning as a fox, a woman who played at sweet smiles and idle chatter while digging knives into the backs of those who underestimated her. However, she had always been nice to him, knowing well that before her ambitions, he was the son of her beloved older sister. The problem doesn’t lie on his Aunt but rather her son, Lucien, who’s nothing but an ambitious little snake who dressed himself in charm but would gladly slit his cousin’s throat if it meant stepping closer to power. Let’s not forget the daughter, Adele, who is in the mix, that little annoying rat.

And now they would be here.

For the hunt.

Cassius smirks darkly. How fitting.

Renard was still watching him, waiting for a reaction. He knew better than to offer opinions, but Cassius could sense his unease. Renard had been with him long enough to understand what this truly was. The King’s invitation was a test. A trap. A spectacle designed to make Cassius prove, once again, that nothing and no one could sway him.

Especially not a certain pet.

Arabella.

His father was waiting for a moment of weakness. A slip. The slightest hesitation when she was thrown into the game. But Cassius had played this game all his life. And he did not lose.

"Very well," he murmured, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Let them come. If my father wants a show, I’ll give him one."

Renard nodded but hesitated before speaking again. "And... the human pet?" From the last night he had seen they interacted, it was the first time for his master to truly seem happy and laugh from his heart. Renard only ever cared for Cassius; thus, he was worried this was something he would hesitate.

Cassius paused, his smirk fading just slightly.

His little birdie. The girl who fought him at every turn. The girl who should have broken long ago, yet still burned with defiance. The girl who had forced him to make a choice, one that had cost him blood tonight.

She had been his pawn once. His entertainment. His distraction. He couldn’t let her continue corroding his heart.

Cassius exhaled, tilting his head as if considering his own thoughts. Then he turned, a slow, predatory smile curling his lips.

"She will know her place," he said simply.

And if she didn’t?

Then he would remind her.