Cassian watched his reflection in the bathwater while the servants prepared his clothes. The body was very weak, yes, but it was not irreparably damaged. Muscles atrophied from lack of movement, not from any illness. That could be corrected.
The real problem was the mind that had inhabited this body before.
He closed his eyes and чужer memories came like shards of broken glass.
A woman with hair golden like the sun, smiling as a small boy ran toward her.
"Cassian, my little lion. One day you will be the pride of our house."
Queen Elara Valorian. Beautiful, kind, powerful. An Archmage-level light mage, a rarity even among royalty. She had been the world of little Cassian.
And then…
The funeral. The white flowers. The sealed coffin because the poison had disfigured her face.
"It was an attack by House Thornveil," they whispered. "Revenge for the execution of their leader."
The King locked in his study, drowning himself in work and wine.
The First Prince, Aldric, only twelve years old, swearing vengeance with tears in his eyes.
And Cassian… Cassian at only seven years old, lost in a palace that suddenly felt more like a tomb.
Cassian opened his eyes abruptly. The pain was so real he had to remind himself they were not his memories. But he understood.
He understood perfectly.
The original Cassian had never overcome that loss. His mother had been his anchor, his reason to try to be strong. Without her, why train? Why strive? Why live?
Depression had devoured him slowly for twelve years, until three days ago, in the darkness of his room, he decided that enough was enough.
"Pathetic," Cassian murmured, but there was some understanding in his voice.
He knew what it was like to lose everything. The difference was that Kain had channeled that pain into becoming a killing machine. The original Cassian had simply… given up.
"Your Highness," the older maid's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "The King has sent a messenger. He requests your presence in the throne hall within an hour."
Cassian felt a chill run down his spine. The King. His "father" in this body.
"Understood. Prepare appropriate clothes."
An hour later, Cassian walked through the halls of the Golden Palace. Every step reminded him how weak this body was. In his previous life, he could run ten kilometers without breaking a sweat. Now, a five-minute walk left him slightly out of breath.
Unacceptable.
The guards looked at him with a mix of pity and barely concealed disdain. The failed prince. The waste of royal blood.
Perfect. Let them think that.
The doors to the throne hall opened. It was a massive chamber with white marble columns and tall windows that let in the golden light of the afternoon. On the throne, carved from white gold, sat King Alderon Valorian.
Fifty years old, but he looked sixty. Platinum-blond hair streaked with gray, a face marked by worry lines. His golden eyes—the same ones Cassian now possessed—were dull, tired.
A broken man pretending to be a king.
To his right stood the First Prince Aldric. Twenty-three years old, tall, muscular, with the bearing of a born warrior. His blond hair was cut short in a military style. His eyes evaluated Cassian with something between disappointment and irritation.
"Cassian," the King's voice was deep but emotionless. "You look… better."
Cassian bowed. Not too deeply—he was a prince, after all—but respectfully. "Father. I regret having caused concern."
An uncomfortable silence filled the hall.
"Concern?" Aldric's voice cut through the air like a whip. "Is that what you call trying to kill yourself? Do you know the scandal you caused? The Three Great Houses are whispering. They say the royal family is falling apart."
"Aldric," the King raised a tired hand. "Enough."
The prince clenched his jaw but fell silent.
The King looked at Cassian directly. For a moment, something passed through his eyes. Pain? Guilt?
"Your… incident," he chose his words carefully, "cannot be repeated. Do you understand?"
Cassian nodded. "I understand, Father."
"Good." The King leaned back on his throne. "The court physicians say you are physically recovered. But your mind…" He paused. "Your mother… I know her loss was difficult for you."
There it was. The elephant in the room.
Cassian felt the original Cassian's memories crowd in. The pain, the loneliness, the despair. But he was not that person. Not anymore.
"I've had… time to reflect," Cassian said carefully. "Mother would not have wanted this for me."
Something changed on the King's face. Surprise, perhaps. As if he had not expected those words.
"No," he said softly. "No, she wouldn't."
Aldric snorted. "Pretty words. But words are all you know how to use, right, brother?"
Cassian turned to him, and for a fraction of a second, he allowed something of his true nature to surface. His golden eyes turned cold, calculating. The gaze of a predator evaluating its prey.
Aldric blinked, unsettled.
Cassian returned to a neutral expression immediately. "You're right, brother. Words are cheap. Actions matter."
"Exactly," Aldric crossed his arms. "That's why I proposed to Father that we give you a chance. A simple mission."
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "A mission?"
The King nodded. "In two weeks, there will be a royal banquet. The Three Great Houses will send representatives. It is customary for the princes to… demonstrate their abilities."
Ah. Politics.
"You want me to participate in the demonstrations," Cassian said.
"No," Aldric smiled cruelly. "We want you to organize them. Be the host. A simple administrative task. Even you should be able to handle that."
Cassian understood immediately. It was a humiliation disguised as an opportunity. While Aldric demonstrated his magical power and swordsmanship before the Great Houses, Cassian would be… organizing the event like a glorified servant.
"I understand," Cassian said in a neutral voice.
The King watched him closely. "If you need help, the Grand Chamberlain can—"
"It won't be necessary, Father. I can handle it."
Another look of surprise. The original Cassian would have protested or simply accepted with resignation. This one… sounded almost confident.
"Very well," the King made a dismissive gesture. "You may leave."
Cassian bowed again and turned around.
"Cassian," the King's voice stopped him. "Try not to… hurt yourself again. Please."