Unfortunately for Cassian did not have the luxury of rest. He pulled an all nighter after the incident yesterday.
And now he stood in the center of his private study, in front of his desk, his eyes fixed on the grandfather clock.
Twelve hours. He had to endure twelve hours of thiss before he could return to the greenhouse.
"Your Highness, the reports from the border." Xavier said, stepping into the room. The guard's voice was steady, but his eyes lingered on the way Cassian was gripping the edge of his desk.
"Leave them." Cassian commanded. His voice was a rasp, a sharp contrast to the velvet tones he used in public.
He didn't look at the reports.
He couldn't.
His vision was beginning to blur at the edges, stained with a persistent, golden haze.
He had been going through this alone for months and it had been bearable while he'd looked for solution. But now it had tasted the stabilizing power of the Thornbloom boy, everything was a mess inside him.
"Shall I call for the school physician? I'll make him swear loyalty." Xavier said, his hand moving toward the bell-pull.
"No." Cassian's head snapped up, his blood-red eyes flashed. "You said the king arrives tomorrow? If a physician is seen entering my room now, it will raise suspicions. I am the Crown Prince. I am whole. I am perfect."
He forced his fingers to uncurl from the desk.
Xavier bowed, his concern was quite obvious but he retreated.
Alone, Cassian finally allowed himself to stumble. He collapsed into the velvet chair, his breath coming in shallow pants. He reached for the collar of his uniform, and opened the top three buttons.
In the mirror across the room, he saw the progress of his death.
The Gilded Ivy for a moment looked like art.
From the center of his chest, thin, shimmering veins of gold branched out like a map. The 'roots' had reached his collarbone, and a small, delicate bud—hard as a diamond and bright as a star—was beginning to form right over his heart.
When it bloomed, he would die. He knew that much because a plant mages he had told him so two months ago. But the plant mage said he still had like two months. It wasn't supposed to be now. If he dies the King would simply step over his golden corpse to crown Zayne.
Zayne.
The thought of his brother was like ice water on his body. Cassian stood up, forcing his legs to carry him to the window. Below, in the courtyard, he could see the flurry of activity. The red and gold banners of the Thalorin house were being unfurled. The second prince had arrived early.
Cassian watched as Zayne moved through the courtyard, stopping to laugh with a group of high-born mages. Zayne was everything the King wanted: social, charismatic, and—most importantly—visibly healthy.
'He knows about the curse.' Cassian thought, his forehead leaning against the cold glass. He had seen Zayne's gaze travel beneath his clothes before.
'He knows I'm rotting, and he's waiting for the moment I finally collapse so he can claim the crown.'
But then, his mind shifted. It drifted away from the political minefield and settled on a pair of silver eyes and a mess of moss-green hair.
Cassian closed his eyes, and for a second, the sensation of Elias's touch returned and he felt even calmer than before. It wasn't just that the pain had stopped; it was the way the magic had felt. It was neutral. Steady. It didn't demand anything from him.
Every other person in Ravenholm wanted something from the Prince—power, status, or a piece of his future. But the gardener looked at him with a weary moon eyes that was almost insulting, and yet, deeply addictive.
He spent the afternoon in a state of torture.
He attended a strategy meeting with the Academy's board with a marble while his legs shook beneath the table. He signed three decrees of trade, his handwriting perfect even as the Ivy sent a jolt of heat up his arm that made him want to scream.
By sunset, the pain had reached its peak.
The air around him was physically shimmering.
In the dining hall, the space around him had grown even wider. He could see the students gawking, their whispers like a swarm of insects. He saw Zayne watching him from across the room, a knowing smirk playing on his younger brother's lips. Zayne's red eyes seemed to track every shallow breath Cassian took.
He's waiting for me to fail. Cassian thought. As usual.
He skipped dinner. He couldn't trust himself to hold a fork without his hand trembling. His father had insisted he shouldn't have any personal staff and he should eat in the dining hall like everybody else.
He returned to his dark room and watched the clock.
Eight o'clock. Nine o'clock.
He didn't want to get there very early and seem desperate. He'd rather die in silence.
He tried to meditate, to use his own royal magic to suppress the growth of the vines, but his powers made it worse.
The more he fought, the faster the gold spread.
He found himself pacing the room, his mind fixated on the image of Greenhouse 4. He pictured the dirt on Elias's hands.
He was a Prince, yet he was counting the seconds until he could crawl to a gardener.
"Disgraceful." he whispered to the empty room.
At ten o'clock, Xavier knocked.
"Your Highness, the halls are clear of the night watch."
Cassian didn't wait. He threw on a heavy cloak to hide the unbuttoned mess of his uniform. He didn't care about dignity anymore. He only cared about the stabilization.
As he slipped through the secret passages of the Royal Wing, his heart hammered against the golden bud in his chest.
He felt a strange, terrifying fear—not that Elias wouldn't be there, but that Elias would be there, and that Cassian would find himself unable to let go of the boy's hand.
He was a Thalorin. He wasn't meant to need anyone.
But as he reached the sliding doors of the greenhouse Cassian realized that he would never be able to stay away.
He pushed the door open.
He was fifty-eight minutes late. He had spent those minutes trying to convince himself he didn't need to come.
And he had lost the argument.
"You're late." the boy said without turning around.
Cassian took a breath, the moist air in the greenhouse hitting his lungs.
"I do not keep schedules for gardeners."