Chapter 325 v4 - 26: the imperial banquet IV

Chapter 325: v4 Chapter 26: the imperial banquet IV

The introductions continued.

Marian tried to listen.

She really did.

She remained beside Adrian at the high table, her posture composed as Lorenz continued presenting the principal members of the Milician delegation.

But her attention kept slipping.

Not constantly.

She was careful.

A glance here.

Another there.

Adrian was speaking quietly with Lorenz now, the two men discussing something Marian could not quite hear.

Good.

She looked.

Carlo was still seated among the Milician delegation.

Marian quickly lowered her gaze again.

She had been watching him too much.

Adrian had not noticed.

At least, she didn’t think he had.

Still, she knew him well enough to know better than to make it obvious.

She waited a moment.

Then looked again.

Carlo was listening to the man beside him.

He looked entirely composed.

Marian studied him from across the table.

She had already decided that she was probably imagining things.

Probably.

But she wanted to be certain.

That was all.

She only wanted to be certain.

Nothing more.

The first course was served.

Marian picked up her fork.

She ate a little, listened when Adrian spoke to her, and answered when one of the Imperial ministers addressed her.

Then her gaze drifted again.

Carlo lifted his fork.

His right hand.

Marian paused.

It was such a small thing.

Meaningless.

Plenty of people were right-handed.

She lowered her eyes.

A moment later, she looked again.

He was eating with the same quiet precision she remembered.

Not hurried.

Not particularly delicate either.

Simply familiar.

Marian’s fingers tightened slightly around her fork.

No.

She was doing it again.

She looked toward Adrian.

He was still engaged in conversation with Lorenz.

Neither appeared to be paying attention to her.

Marian allowed herself another glance.

Carlo had finished his bite and was listening to someone beside him.

His expression was polite.

Attentive.

Then his fingers began tapping lightly against the edge of the table.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

A pause.

Then again.

Marian went still.

She knew that.

Cassian had done that whenever he was bored.

Not openly.

Never enough to be rude.

Just that quiet, absent tapping of his fingers when he was being forced to sit through something he found tedious.

Marian’s heart gave another strange beat.

She looked down immediately.

No.

It meant nothing.

It could not mean anything.

She took a sip of wine.

Beside her, Adrian said something to Lorenz.

Marian listened for a moment.

Then, when their conversation continued, she looked again.

Carlo had stopped tapping.

He was watching the musicians now.

Marian looked away.

She felt almost guilty.

Not because she had done anything wrong.

She hadn’t.

She was simply looking.

And yet she knew that if Adrian turned and caught her studying another man across the banquet hall, she would have to explain why.

She had no explanation.

Not one she could give.

So she waited.

And looked again.

The evening continued.

The musicians changed.

The conversation shifted from diplomacy to lighter matters.

Then a group of performers entered the open space before the tables.

A cultural dance from the Empire’s eastern provinces.

The dancers moved with practiced precision, their traditional garments catching the light as the music filled the hall.

Everyone watched.

Marian watched too.

So did Carlo.

At first, he appeared attentive.

Then, gradually, something changed.

His expression became slightly distant.

His fingers found the edge of his sleeve.

He rubbed the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

Marian’s heart lurched.

She knew that too.

Cassian had done the same thing whenever he was bored but had no intention of showing it.

She remembered him doing it at long dinners.

At formal events.

During endless conversations between older nobles.

He had always been too well-mannered to make his boredom obvious.

Instead, his fingers would find some small distraction.

A cuff.

A sleeve.

The edge of a glove.

Anything.

Marian stared.

The man across the room was watching an Imperial dance with impeccable courtesy.

But she knew.

He was bored.

The realization sent a chill through her.

She looked toward Adrian.

He was still speaking with Lorenz.

He hadn’t noticed.

Marian looked back.

Carlo was still there.

Still doing something she remembered.

Still carrying himself in ways that felt increasingly difficult to dismiss.

She swallowed.

Perhaps she should stop.

She had already spent enough of the evening questioning her own eyes.

But then Carlo shifted slightly in his seat.

And Marian saw him again.

Not a stranger.

Not quite.

Something in her chest tightened.

She lowered her gaze.

She loved Adrian.

That was not in question.

Four years of marriage had not left her uncertain about that.

She had chosen him.

She had built a life with him.

She was happy.

That was why this was so unsettling.

She had not been waiting for Cassian.

She had not secretly wished for his return.

She had mourned him, eventually accepted his death, and continued living.

She had loved again.

She had married.

She had become Empress.

Her life had gone on.

And now a man she had never met was sitting across the banquet hall, making her question something she had considered settled for years.

Marian looked at him once more.

He was speaking to Marcus now.

A small smile appeared on his face.

Her heart tightened.

It was him.

She knew it.

Not because of his face alone.

Not because of some impossible hope.

Because she knew him.

She had known him too well.

The realization did not bring the happiness she might once have imagined.

It brought questions.

So many questions.

Why was he alive?

Why had she been allowed to believe he was dead?

Why had she mourned him for a year and a half?

Why had six years passed without a word?

And why, if he truly was Cassian, had he not come to her?

Marian’s brow furrowed.

She looked toward him again.

He did not look back.

Perhaps that was deliberate.

Perhaps it wasn’t.

She did not know.

But now she could no longer pretend that she was merely seeing a resemblance.

The man sitting across the banquet hall was Cassian.

She was almost certain of it.

And that was precisely the problem.

Because now that she knew—

she had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do.

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Tbc