Chained Hearts: From Slavery to Sovereignty
Chapter 146: Failed

Chapter 146: Chapter 146: Failed

The scroll was taken from Cassian by a servant who moved like smoke...nearly weightless. His robes were ash-gray, blending into the stone walls as if he had been born from them. He didn’t look at Cassian. He simply bowed and disappeared behind a velvet curtain at the rear of the chamber, taking Cassian’s failure with him.

Cassian sat rigid, fingers clenched around his knees to keep them from shaking. He didn’t know what was worse—the fact that he hadn’t even been able to attempt the test, or the dread pooling in his stomach as the instructor returned, now holding a fan of transparent crystal slips. They shimmered faintly with runes and shifting color, and he knew—without being told—that these were the results.

She handed them out one by one, moving down the row like a judge delivering sentences.

Each crystal glowed with faint hues—blue, green, silver... and then his.

Red.

A single, damning flash of scarlet pulsed on the rune at the center of his slip, burning with quiet shame. He didn’t know the full meaning of the symbols, but the color alone was enough. It screamed across his senses: failure.

"Lady Enira," the instructor said coolly, holding out the crystal with both hands. "Correct and precise. Your record continues to impress."

Lady Enira smiled without teeth. It was the kind of smile that said she already knew. She accepted the crystal with a graceful nod, her eyes never leaving the instructor’s face—until, deliberately, she let them drift toward Cassian.

She studied him like he was an insect someone had forgotten to squash. Her gaze lingered just a moment too long, sharp and assessing, as though cataloging exactly where to cut should she ever need to bleed him.

"Lord Sylen," the instructor continued, turning to the fae with silver hair and eyes like frost. "Correct identification, but you missed the secondary ledger. Acceptable, but not refined."

Sylen gave a shrug, his tone dry as crushed leaves. "Perhaps your records should be clearer."

The instructor didn’t dignify it with a response. She simply turned her back.

"Lord Veyce."

The beast-boy straightened, tail curling upward in hopeful anticipation.

"Incorrect," she said flatly. "Your calculations are wrong. Your entries are chaotic. And you appear to have invented an expense labeled ’nighttime meats.’"

Veyce frowned, offended. "That’s a valid charge!"

"It is not."

The woman didn’t even blink. She stepped forward again, and suddenly, her attention was on Cassian. He felt the weight of her gaze before he heard her speak his name.

"Lord Cassian."

He flinched, just slightly. Her voice was unreadable—no scorn, no pity. Just cold, firm judgment wrapped in velvet.

"You did not complete the task."

He hesitated before answering. "No," he admitted softly, hating the way the word caught in his throat. "I... I couldn’t read the language."

There was a pause.

Then, quietly, "You will learn."

Those three words landed heavier than any insult. They weren’t cruel, but neither were they kind. They were a reminder—blunt and final. In this place, excuses held no weight. No one would slow down for him. Not here.

"There are no excuses in this court," she continued. "If you are to survive here, you must think, adapt, and keep up. Otherwise..."

She let the words trail off.

She didn’t have to finish them.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Cassian could feel the others watching him. Not mocking, not yet—but curious. Weighing him. Measuring how far he could fall.

Lady Enira reclined slightly on her cushioned seat, fingers draped elegantly across her knee. "He must be one of Lord Dorian’s... special guests," she said, her voice smooth as silk and twice as sharp. "The ones brought in from the outside."

"Another concubine," Sylen added with a smirk, not even trying to lower his voice. "Lovely. Maybe we can start a club."

Cassian’s shoulders stiffened, but he said nothing.

Their words rolled over him like cold water, not enough to drown, but enough to chill every bone. His fingers tightened in his lap. He didn’t look at them. He didn’t have to. He could hear the disdain hidden behind their voices. The way they spoke his name like it was something fragile.

Enira’s eyes sparkled with amusement. "You’ll need more than a pretty face to stay alive here, Cassian."

His name on her tongue felt like a leash. He clenched his jaw.

"I didn’t ask to be here," he muttered, barely louder than a breath.

But the instructor heard. She always heard.

"And yet here you are," she said coolly. "You would do well to remember: the palace may be gilded, but it was built with blood. No one is truly safe. Especially not favorites."

That word—favorite—struck something in his chest. He looked down at the glowing red rune on his crystal slip, and all he could think was: is that all he is?

A chime echoed from the far side of the room, high and clear like a bell made of ice. Class dismissed.

They stood. The others gathered their things, silent and elegant, already turning their backs to him as though he were already forgotten.

But one didn’t walk away.

"Hey," came a bright, cheerful voice at his side.

Cassian turned, surprised, to find Veyce grinning up at him, his silver hair a wild tangle around his pointed ears. His tail flicked behind him in lazy circles.

"You’re new," Veyce said, matter-of-factly. "I like your clothes. You smell like fruit."

Cassian blinked. "Uh. Thanks...?"

Veyce thrust out a hand. "I’m Veyce."

Cassian hesitated, then took it. Veyce’s hand was warm. Clawed, yes, but soft. Oddly comforting.

"Cassian."

"Nice name," Veyce chirped. "Don’t worry about the test. I fail stuff all the time. You get used to it. No one eats you. Usually."

Cassian almost smiled.

"Don’t let Enira scare you. She’s scary because she is scary. But like, in a royal, ’I’ll-eat-your-hope’ kind of way. Sylen’s just mouthy because he’s bored. And the old lady? She’s probably been teaching since the world was lava."

From the front of the room came a sharp, "She can still hear you."

Veyce jumped. "Oops. Come on! I’ll show you where they keep the real breakfast. The stuff they give the ’favorites.’" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Cassian hesitated only a moment before nodding.

Because even with the weight of failure wrapped around his shoulders, even with humiliation smoldering in his chest, he let Veyce lead him.