Part 2Breathing Death Without My Soul Scent

The conference room fell into a sudden, icy silence.

Uncle Robert, the eldest patriarch, slammed his hand onto the table, splashing his Earl Grey tea. “Absolutely not! Over my dead body, Camilla.”

A chorus of agreement followed.

“He's right, Cami. You’re not getting any younger. What kind of snake oil has this boy been feeding you? You’d throw Caspian away?” they muttered, shaking their heads in disappointment before filing out.

Cami was vibrating with fury. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “What did you promise them? What kind of blackmail do you have on them to make them support you like this?”

Blaine, his face crumpled with fake sadness, sighed dramatically. “If Mr. Thorne won't agree, let's just drop it, Cami. The baby can always just take his last name.”

Cami pulled him into a fierce embrace, promising, "I will fix this, Blaine. I promise you."

I lowered my eyes to hide the devastating loneliness churning inside me and walked straight upstairs.

My covenant with Grandmother Beaumont was simple: as long as I was the Consort, Cami’s physical safety was my paramount responsibility. With the Plaque destroyed and her soul-fragment scattered, I had to create an even more potent Soul Incense just to keep her body alive.

I pulled out the sealed Thorne Family Grimoire—the book of formulas my father left me—and worked for three days straight. I found a way, a desperate, final solution, requiring a single, harrowing catalyst: my own heart’s blood.

When the three-inch needle pierced the skin just above my heart, I didn't cry. But when I looked at the bowl containing the precious, nearly-congealed paste, I sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Cami had promised me she was only using Blaine to try and recover her sense of smell. She swore he was merely a tool, and that I was the one she truly loved.

I had been the fool, buying the lie and becoming the industry's joke.

Lost in the crushing memory, I didn't notice the sharp, burnt smell emanating from the ceramic dish until it was too late.

“Need a hand, Cas?”

Blaine had appeared silently behind me. Quick as a snake, he grabbed the jade mortar and began mixing the paste rapidly.

My eyes widened in terror. “Give that back!”

He sidestepped my outstretched hand, a glint of perverse pleasure in his eyes.

Crash.

The mortar slipped, shattering into a million white fragments on the floor.

“What did you do?”

Rage, primal and suffocating, burst from my chest.

Cami, hearing the commotion, rushed in. Her immediate concern was for Blaine.

“What happened here?”

“I just wanted to help Cas, but I accidentally broke his dish. I even cut my finger.” He showed her the microscopic scratch on his thumb. Cami's face was instantly flooded with concern.

She turned on me, her voice a roar. "Caspian Thorne, what in God's name is the matter with you?”

She stopped short, her eyes landing on the scattered pieces of jade. An uncharacteristic flicker of guilt crossed her face.

My shoulders shook, and I choked on the lump in my throat. “You know... you know that was my father’s.”

Cami looked away. “It was an accident, Blaine didn’t mean it. Besides, your father left you so much. What does one dish matter?”

Her blatant favoritism was a physical punch to the gut. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

“Would you be so generous,” I whispered, "if he had smashed your mother’s last possession?”

The question hadn't even finished leaving my mouth when a stinging slap connected with my cheek. My right eye immediately swelled.

Cami was breathing hard, her eyes blazing with hatred and disgust. “Don’t you dare bring my mother into this! If it weren’t for you, she’d still be alive!”

Five years ago, Grandmother Beaumont had a massive heart attack. The staff had the day off, and I was away on an emergency trip. I had promised Cami before we married that I would always look after her family. I broke that promise. It was the poison that had slowly killed our marriage.

Seeing Cami on his side, Blaine grew emboldened. “Caspian, Cami is the heir. How dare you publicly challenge her like this?”

He turned to the guards. “For a lesson, smash every single one of his things! Do it!”

The security team immediately began following his orders. Glass vials, delicate measuring cylinders, and precious copper vessels were all smashed against the tile floor.

I was shaking, a silent scream caught in my throat. I lunged forward, but Cami pinned my arms behind my back.

“Regret it now, don’t you? Where was this passion five minutes ago?”

My instruments—my inheritance, passed down through generations—were being destroyed. It felt like watching my family die again.

But Blaine wasn't finished. He held up my father’s Grimoire, the leather-bound book that held centuries of Thorne knowledge.

I fell to my knees, pleading, tears streaming down my face. “No. Please. Don’t.”

It was the last piece of him I had left.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, a triumphant smirk on his face, and tossed the book into the massive stone fireplace.

In that instant, as the flames licked the ancient leather, I wrenched free of Cami’s grip and dove headfirst into the fireplace.

“Caspian, are you insane!” Cami shouted, a flicker of genuine fear in her eyes. It only vanished when I stumbled back out, coughing and scorched.

My hands were covered in massive blisters, but I clutched the remaining, charred pages of the Grimoire to my chest, sobbing until my ribs ached.

Blaine, pleased with the spectacular result of my breakdown, swaggered off to the master bedroom.

Cami threw a tube of burn cream at me. Her fingers twitched, as if she wanted to touch me, but I turned my head away, my jaw locked.

“You are impossible!” Cami muttered, her face hardened again. She spun and stalked off.

I stayed huddled in the corner, clutching the sacred, burnt pages, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Then, my phone rang.

“Caspian,” a familiar voice purred. “Interested in making a deal?”