Page 60 of Brutal Crown
We round the corner into the long gallery that faces the east staircase, and that’s when I find almost all the staff gathered at a spot.
The first thing my subconscious does is to look for her. I don’t find her, and that’s when I notice that everyone’s eyes are tilted upward.
The moment I look up, the breath leaves my lungs.
Cassian.
Hanging from the grand chandelier.
His arms are limp at his sides. His neck is bent at an angle that’s too clean, too neat, too perfect. His all-knowing smile is frozen on his lifeless face.
More servants pour into the room. I hear a terrified gasp. Another person whispers a prayer. The crowd parts as I step through the circle, ignoring the eyes staring at me and the murmurs floating in the air. Every step feels like I’m walking through water. I reach the center and look up at what I already know I’ll never unsee.
His body looks fresh, like he was alive mere minutes ago. There’s no sign of a fight or struggle on his face.
This was not suicide.
That leaves a bigger question. Who did this?
I turn to look at the guard nearest to me. His face is pale, almost green.
“Get a ladder,” I order.
It takes minutes. Long, almost painful minutes until the ladder arrives and is positioned close to the body. When I climb up, all I can hear is the creaking of the chandelier as the body slightly sways back and forth and the blood pounding in my ears.
I take a blade from my pocket, flick it open, and slice through the rope holding his body. The cord gives way with a harsh snap.
Cassian’s body plummets like a sack of bones and lands with a sickening plop against the stone tiles. The chandelier creaks,swinging faster at the freedom from the dead weight hanging onto it. A sharp, collective yelp echoes through the room as everyone jerks back from the body. A woman lets out a sob.
His head lolls grotesquely to the side, eyes closed, lips still curled in that frozen smile that makes my stomach turn.
I descend slowly from the ladder and kneel beside the corpse. Something peeks out from his coat pocket. I reach in, ignoring the twitch in my fingers, and take it out. It’s a folded note, small and tucked in there precisely.
I slip it into my jacket without reading it.
“Take this away,” I mutter to no one in particular. “Now.”
The guards step forward and bundle the body up while I walk away from the scene, my thoughts roaring in my head.
Cassian was a seer. He saw something, something he wasn’t supposed to see. He revealed what he saw to Lia on the night of my engagement ceremony. And now he’s dead.
I don’t believe in coincidences.
Later that night, I sit alone in my private study. Firelight flickers across the walls. My hands tremble as I unfold the note.
‘Two families forged peace with blood, then buried the bodies beneath silver vows. But secrets don’t stay buried forever. One has already spoken. How many more will follow?’
I read it twice, then a third time. My hands are steady, but my heart isn’t. This is clearly a warning. A whisper meant to rattle the bones of those who know what really happened.
Cassian knew.
He knew about the secret between the Romanos and Morettis. He knew the secret we’ve kept for years, using my marriage as a means to hide the assassination our ancestors committed.
Someone killed him for finding out.
My heart rattles against my ribcage. It can’t be…
No. If La Mano Nerahad truly uncovered the old betrayal, Cassian wouldn’t be the only person killed. There would be a lot more dead bodies, especially ours. They might be displeased at the news of how he caused chaos at the ceremony, but killing him because of that is too shallow for them.
