Cassian rapped his knuckles lightly on Analisa's door. "My liege…" he called, voice low. A flicker of hesitation passed through him—half-expecting another round of torment. But honestly? If it meant spending the night buried inside her, he'd risk whatever experiments she felt like running. Healing ability had its perks.
From inside, Analisa's voice came cold and sharp. "What do you want?"
"Nothing…" Cassian replied, though the smirk curling his lips betrayed the word. He let his tone slip into mock confusion, then added with a touch of feigned sorrow, "I just wanted to apologize for this morning…"
From his voice, anyone might have thought he carried guilt—but his expression told another story entirely. It didn't shift even when Analisa opened the door. Cassian wasn't worried about her catching on to his act; a woman who'd clawed her way up to the rank of cardinal in the cult would see through a flimsy trick like that without blinking.
