Nathaniel did not release her arm until the library door closed behind them.
Now free, Cassandra took a step away from him and flexed her fingers, suppressing the urge to rub the soreness blooming around her wrist from how tightly he had held her.
Her current situation was precarious, and all she could do was watch her father warily as he strode past her.
Nathaniel came to a halt a moment later, standing with his back to her, one hand braced against the edge of a long wooden table.
He was breathing heavily, each measured inhale sounding harsher than the last, and in that moment, he reminded her of a huffing beast struggling to keep itself from losing control.
Vivienne entered the library a second later and quietly closed the door behind her.
A few strands of her carefully arranged hair had come loose during the commotion, and the first thing she did was smooth them back into place before straightening the front of her gown.
Even now, her mother seemed more concerned with how she appeared than with anything else.
Nathaniel turned only after he had regained some semblance of control.
"You have never behaved with such recklessness," he commented. "I want to understand what possessed you to behave in such a disgraceful manner."
Cassandra almost laughed.
Understand?
He had never once attempted to understand her.
Not when she was a child desperately chasing his approval, or when she sacrificed pieces of herself to become the daughter everyone expected.
The only difference tonight was that, for once, she had refused to blindly obey him.
"When did you both stop seeing me as a human being?" She asked before she could think better of it.
A crease appeared between Vivienne’s brows. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"When did my thoughts and feelings stop meaning something to you?" Cassandra’s gaze drifted between them. "I’ve been trying to remember the last conversation we had that wasn’t about what I should achieve... or how I could be more useful... or what was expected of me and I couldn’t. I couldn’t recall a time when things were different."
"This is hardly the time for self-pity." Vivienne let out an exasperated sigh, tired of her daughter’s antics.
Cassandra’s cheeks flamed and tears stung the back of her eyes.
"You can berate me all you want for what happened tonight, but you’re the ones to blame. Both of you. If you had simply accepted that I didn’t want this marriage, none of this would have happened."
Something angry and spiteful glinted in her mother’s eyes. "So you chose to punish us, your family, instead." She looked at Cassandra from head to toe. "You speak as though you’ve been mistreated, when we have only ever given you the best."
Cassandra had asked herself that countless times over the years.
Her parents had clothed her, educated her, given her every advantage money could buy. They had never struck her, never starved her, never abandoned her.
So why had she spent so much of her childhood feeling desperately alone?
It was because neglect didn’t always look like cruelty.
Sometimes it looked like being praised only when she was useful, like every conversation revolving around her achievements instead of her happiness.
Like spending twenty-seven years wondering why earning her parents’ love always felt like another exam she had never studied hard enough to pass.
A knock sounded at the door.
A moment later, the handle turned and her brother, Edmund, stepped inside.
He stopped as soon as he sensed the tension hanging heavily in the room.
Something inside her eased at the sight of him.
If there was anyone in this family who might understand and take her side, it would be him.
She found herself waiting for him to prove that she wasn’t entirely alone.
"I’ve just spoken with John before coming here. He looked devastated by what you did," was the first thing out of Edmund’s mouth, dashing the last of Cassandra’s hopes.
He wasn’t here for her.
He was here because of John.
"He said you refused to let him explain himself." Edmund went on.
Cassandra lowered her eyes for a brief moment.
Even after everything, John was still controlling the narrative.
She wondered if there would ever come a day when that man wasn’t the victim in everyone else’s eyes.
"He’ll recover." She replied coldly.
Edmund frowned. "Is that all you have to say?"
"What would you like me to say?"
"That you’re sorry." He spat.
"For refusing to marry a man I don’t love?"
"No." Edmund answered. "For being stupid and making him look like a fool."
Cassandra sucked in a harsh breath as she studied her younger brother. He genuinely meant every word.
She suddenly remembered a spring afternoon years ago.
She had been sixteen and Edmund had been only eleven. He had scraped his knee falling from a horse during riding practice. He’d insisted he wasn’t hurt, though he’d been limping all afternoon.
She had snuck into the kitchens, stolen a small pot of honey and herbs from the cook, then spent half an hour tending to the wound while he complained she fussed too much.
"Don’t tell Mother," he’d whispered with a grin. "She’ll forbid me from riding for a month."
She had laughed, amused by her brother’s mischievous smile.
Back then, she’d believed there would always be moments like that where they were inseparable.
When had they stopped? Now as she stared at Edmund, a stranger stared back.
When did this become their reality?
"Aren’t you going to say something?" Edmund asked.
"No." She said simply.
His brows drew together. "No?"
"I’m not sorry."
He was taken aback but it only lasted a brief moment. A second later, the look in his brown eyes darkened into something fierce and hateful.
"I defended you." He muttered, glaring at his sister. "When Mother said you’d lost your senses... I told her it wasn’t true. That there had to be another explanation for your increasingly reckless actions but I was wrong and you made me look like a fool."