He inclined his head towards the Queen. "Your Majesty." His deep voice was smooth as silk. "Just as others have stated, this proposal will undoubtedly inconvenience many provincial administrations. That alone is not sufficient reason to oppose it. The purpose of governance is not to preserve our comfort." His gaze swept unhurriedly across the chamber before settling once more upon the Queen. "It is to preserve the kingdom."
It was no surprise he sided with the queen. The duke had long been one of Delphine’s most steadfast supporters, standing firmly behind her policies. He was a reformist, just like his father before him.
With that, he reclaimed his seat.
Some men tried to dominate a room by speaking at length. Draven Montague had never needed more than a few carefully chosen words.
As the meeting continued, Cassandra sensed someone’s eyes on her. The stare was so unrelenting it seemed determined to burn a hole into the side of her face.
The council adjourned shortly thereafter.
The Queen stood up first, bringing the meeting to a close before leaving. Around the chamber, chairs scraped against the marble floor as councillors prepared to leave as well.
Conversations quickly sprang to life, nobles drifting into familiar circles as they continued debating the morning’s proceedings.
Some looked pleased.
Others decidedly less so.
Cassandra remained seated for a moment longer, absentmindedly arranging the papers before her.
The meeting had accomplished more than she’d expected.
No decision had been reached. But she had finally seen the fault lines running beneath the council. The division wasn’t hidden. It had been there all along. She had simply failed to see how deeply it ran.
She stepped away from the council table and joined the slow stream of nobles filtering out into the corridor.
"Lady Cassandra."
The familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.
For a heartbeat, she considered pretending she hadn’t heard it. But at the last minute she decided against it.
Turning slowly, she found Draven Montague making his way towards her.
Memories threatened to overwhelm her at the mere sight of him.
Memories of searching desperately through a sea of faces for one person she believed would come and finding only strangers.
She forced the bitter memories aside. It would not aid her mission to ponder on them now.
Dropping into a polite curtsy, she lowered her gaze.
"Your Grace." When she looked up again, Draven was studying her with faint confusion.
"You’ve become formal."
"I believe it is appropriate."
One corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Since when?"
She had no answer because he was right.
Years of working together had long since worn away such formalities between them. Somewhere along the way, she had stopped calling him ’Your Grace’ unless they were with company.
Now the title came naturally. Like a shield.
"I thought the meeting went well," he said after a moment. "Though you seemed unusually restrained."
"I had little to add."
"I find that difficult to believe."
She merely inclined her head. "If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, I should return home."
Again.
Your Grace.
Draven’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly and he took a single step forward.
"What happened?"
The question caught her off guard.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You’ve barely looked at me since the meeting ended." His tone remained calm, free of accusation. "I wondered whether I had done something to offend you."
"No." The answer came too quickly to be believable.
He waited but she offered nothing more.
Normally, Cassandra would have made comments on how the meeting went, challenged one of his opinions, or asked after affairs in Norham.
Today, she stood before him like a stranger eager to leave.
"If I have unknowingly caused offence," he said at last, "I’d rather know."
"You haven’t. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I have several matters requiring my attention." She gave another curtsy. "Good day, Your Grace."
Without waiting for permission to leave, she turned and walked away.
Draven remained where he was.
He watched her put more distance between them until the folds of her blue gown vanished beyond the corridor.
Something wasn’t right.
He had worked alongside Cassandra Ashford for nearly a decade.
She had never lacked opinions. She never hesitated to tell him when she believed him wrong.
On more than one occasion, their debates had stretched well beyond the council session because neither was willing to concede the point.
Today’s conversation lasted barely five minutes.
As though she were speaking to someone she scarcely knew.
He pondered on her odd behaviour but no answer came to mind. He couldn’t recall them having a single disagreement that might explain such an abrupt change.
"Your Grace." One of his attendants approached. "The carriage is waiting."
Draven gave a distracted nod but did not move immediately.
His gaze lingered on the empty corridor.
Whatever had changed, it had nothing to do with today’s meeting.
---
As Cassandra descended the palace front steps, the breeze did little to cool the stinging heat in her cheeks.
Only when she reached her waiting carriage did she finally stop.
"My lady." The footman stepped forward to open the door.
Unable to help herself, Cassandra looked back once towards the palace.
She hadn’t intended to speak to Draven so coldly. He had done nothing to deserve it in this present timeline.
Yet every time she had looked at him, that moment from her previous life refused to loosen its grip around her.
The scaffold.
The jeering crowd.
The desperate hope that, somehow, he would appear before the executioner’s blade fell. That she would see her dear friend one last time before death calmed her.
He never came.
Draven was the only friend she had in the capital and he couldn’t even be bothered to show up to her execution.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Perhaps there had been a reason for his absence.
Perhaps there hadn’t. She would never know.
With that thought weighing heavily upon her, Cassandra climbed into the carriage.
As the horses pulled away from the palace grounds, she stared silently through the window.
She intended to change history. What she hadn’t expected was how difficult it would be to leave the ghosts of her first life behind.