The War God’s expression was still just as serious. Cassandra tried to sit up, but he held her wrists in place to keep her lying down.
“You don’t want to?” he asked.
The young concubine sighed.
“If you marry me, you won’t be able to change your mind.”
“I know.”
“Even if you meet someone much prettier and younger later,” she added.
“I know.”
What was he thinking?
Cassandra wished she was inside his head right now, to understand how the War God functioned. Certainly not like most men.
Becoming a high-ranked concubine after spending eight or nine years as a slave was already unheard of, but becoming someone’s wife? No normal man would have thought of such a thing. There was a huge gap between the concubines and the official wife. A gap so important, most of the concubines in this Palace would have killed to hear those words. A man’s official wife had an unshakable position. The Dragon Empire didn’t recognize divorces, and even if one of the partners died, the other would never be able to replace him or her. While concubines could be abandoned or dismissed, an official wife would never need to worry about that. Hence, most men of power made sure to marry a woman from a strong background, with good looks and brains. Cassandra felt like she probably didn’t check at least two of those boxes.
“Cassandra,” he softly spoke her name, taking her out of her thoughts.
“You wouldn’t be able to take another concubine,” she said. “I’d never allow it.”
That was one of the powers of the official wife. No concubines could be brought in by the husband without her consent. Therefore, most men would rather not pick a wife and have plenty of concubines instead. Or at the very least, make sure their spouse closed their eyes to a new woman.
Cassandra already knew she wouldn’t be able to do that. She was already too attached to him, emotionally and physically. She would rather die than share him with another woman.
“It’s fine,” replied the Prince.
“It isn’t fine. I won’t be able to do much to help you. I’m not as smart as your mother, or as powerful as your sister.”
Cassandra was worried. If something happened between him and his brothers, she would be powerless. She had no backing, nothing to help him. His brothers’ women probably had a lot of money, influence and scholars behind them. A merchant or even a minister’s daughter would have been a hundred times better than her to be his wife.
However, no matter how much she thought about it, Cassandra knew that man too well. He wouldn’t change his mind. He was odd and stubborn about what he wanted and didn’t want. Luckily for her, she was among the things he liked most.
She smiled and leaned in closer to him, stealing another kiss. He never refused her kisses and it wouldn’t be the case for this one either. Gently brushing his fingers through her hair, he tasted her sweetness, rolling with her on the bed. His young concubine was obviously too tired tonight, her eyes kept closing and her breathing slowed.
The War God was fine with that, she definitely deserved some rest. But…
“You didn’t answer me,” he remarked as Cassandra was half-asleep on his chest.
She smiled.
“You do that often.”
He frowned, wondering what she was talking about. But before he could even begin to figure it out, she had fallen fast asleep. He sighed, putting her small hand to his lips to kiss her pale skin, and wrapped her gently in his embrace. He then closed his eyes, too.
The next morning, Cassandra woke up with a horrible feeling. Something smelled terribly bad. She struggled to sit up. It was so early, it was barely dawn outside and her Prince was still soundly sleeping next to her.
Yet, she couldn’t stay in bed. She stood up and glanced at the tray of food someone had brought in while they were asleep. She then stumbled to the washbasin. Her skin was covered in goosebumps and she kept gagging above the basin, her head spinning.
“Cassandra?”
Kairen had woken up the moment she moved, but now she seemed really unwell. He rushed to her side, worried. He had no idea what was going on until Cassandra loudly threw up.
“Cassandra, you’re sick? Is it poison?”
“The… food…” she managed to stutter, pointing at the tray.
