To His Hell and Back-Chapter 284: The Devil Within-II

Cassius was someone who could endure pain even when holes were carved into his body. He could endure all sort of pain without letting a single groan- and though his body would burn from the pain or sweat from the cold, he was used to feeling the pain that it felt like a second nature to him.

But Arabella’s words, soft, almost absent of weight, cut deeper than any blade ever had. Just a few syllables from her lips, and his composure splintered.

It wasn’t the kind of pain he could bite down on. It wasn’t physical, and that was precisely what made it unbearable. Her voice lodged itself in his ribs, a quiet dagger twisting with every breath. His face, so often unreadable, now twisted with something raw and unfamiliar, anguish that bled from every pore.

The slightest words from Arabella were enough to turn his face into a harrowing ache. It was as if he had just been put to hell and couldn’t endure the pain.

"All of them," Cassius breathed, his brow furrowing, his voice strained with barely restrained torment. "It was all my fault."

Arabella didn’t answer at first. She only looked at him.

Her gaze wasn’t sharp or tender, it was still. As if she were studying him, dissecting the sorrow written across his face like a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.

For a flicker of a moment, her expression was unreadable. Perhaps even unamused, as if his suffering was either expected... or insufficient. Then she softly pulled the corners of her lips.

"Do you like the throne more than me?" Arabella asked, her voice soft purring, almost feline, as she nestled against his thigh. Her eyes fluttered closed, lashes brushing her cheek as if she were half dreaming. "If you had to choose... save me, or protect the throne— what would it be? Me, or the crown?"

Cassius didn’t even blink.

"You."

His answer came sharp and sure, like a blade drawn without thought. No pause, no flicker of uncertainty. His voice carried the weight of an oath already carved into his bones. It wasn’t even a question to him. He had chosen long ago.

Arabella’s lips curled, but not in surprise. Slowly, she lifted her hand, dainty fingers raised like a child’s beckoning pinky. Her emerald eyes opened, glowing softly in the darkness, and though her expression was still sweet, something more wicked simmered beneath.

A secret thrill. A dangerous satisfaction.

Cassius couldn’t see the way her smile tilted into something too perfect, too lovely. It dazzled him— just enough to blind.

"Promise me," she whispered, her little finger waiting for his.

One word. One gesture. A vow that would bind far more than hearts.

Cassius linked his little finger towards her, closing his eyes as he whispered, "Kill me if I would ever have to choose the throne over you."

"Kill you?" Arabella repeated softly, a strange glimmer flickering in her eyes. Her fingers brushed gently across his chest, firm, unyielding like stone, but it wasn’t the sculpted muscle beneath her touch that made her pause. Rather it was the promise he had said, the one that allowed her to kill him if he had ever cross his words.

She tilted her head, smiling faintly.

"Don’t forget your promise."

Cassius stilled. The words struck deeper than they should have, not because of what she said, but why she said it.

Was it because he had come too late? Because she’d been forced to bleed and fight and endure without him?

A dull ache pulled at his chest.

He hadn’t been there when she was stabbed. He hadn’t been there when the court named her monster. And worst of all, he hadn’t been there in the hunt when survival meant clawing tooth and nail through a game designed to slaughter her.

Guilt carved into the sharp angles of his face.

He lowered his head and whispered, "I will never forget."

He assumed she needed reassurance, something steady to hold onto. And if that was what Arabella sought, then he would offer it freely, as many times as it took to quiet the storms in her heart.

But what Cassius didn’t know... was that those words, that haunting question, it hadn’t come from her.

Not from the wounded girl curled beside him.

It hadn’t come from Arabella’s aching need for comfort, nor her weary heart that had begun to trust him.

No.

The question had come from something else, the ancient, grinning devil that slumbered beneath her skin. The one who adored promises. The one who watched liars make oaths with glee, just to dance in their own ruin.

Still smiling faintly, Arabella closed her eyes.

And drifted back into sleep.

It startled Cassius at first, how fast she had gone asleep as though earlier she had sleep walked and talked out of her sleep.

Regardless, Cassius who didn’t want her to catch a cold moved to carry her body towards the bed. He came to a brief stop when he reached by the window, staring at the large moon above him before turning back at Arabella who safely cradled around his arms.

He gently leaned forward, kissing her forehead, "Everything will end soon. Soon. I promise you."

And as he said, the deadly number Seven inscribed on the marble floor of Morgana’s room began to flicker.

Morgana had thrown a fit upon hearing her baby was a girl, but that rage turned to dread when she saw what Cassius had etched into the stone of his chamber.

Your days are numbered.

Beneath it, carved in sharp, precise strokes: SEVEN.

Her blood froze. She realized now that Cassius’s presence earlier, his cold words, his infuriating smirk, none of that had been the true threat. This was. This message. This oath.

This countdown.

Morgana’s chest rose with panic as her hands shook. He hadn’t come to argue. He had come to warn her. A warning laced in prophecy, or worse, intention.

"No... no," she breathed, scrambling off the bed.

"C— CALL THE KING!" she shrieked. Her chambers were already in shambles, stained with the aftermath of her fury. The midwife lay lifeless on the floor, her execution ordered the moment Morgana had snapped.

"Tell him— tell him the Crown Prince has gone mad! He’s consorting with sorcerers, he’s plotting to usurp the throne! We must act before it’s too late—w e must put him back in his place!"

But even as she yelled, she knew...

The countdown had begun.