Filed to story: Elowen Hale and Duke Cassian Valebourne Book PDF Free
Until one day-she overheard him.
Alaric was speaking with a close companion.
About her.
Only then did she understand.
Everything she had suffered-he had known.
He simply hadn’t cared.
Or worse-he had allowed it.
His voice was cold. Sharp with contempt.
“She forced me to marry her,” he said. “Now she’s getting what she deserves.”
His companion hesitated.
“But Elowen is beautiful. She truly cares about you. Do you really feel nothing for her?”
Alaric didn’t even pause.
“She disgusts me.”
The world had gone silent.
So cold.
I forced you?
Is that what you believe?
It was his father’s decision.
If he didn’t want it, why didn’t he say so?
Why take it out on her?
In that entire farce-
The King was praised as benevolent.
The Crown Prince gained favor.
And Elowen…
She alone paid the price.
What had she done to deserve it?
The grief clawed at her so violently she thought she might be sick-but nothing came.
Her eyes burned.
But no tears fell.
Numb, she went to him.
She stood before him, lowered herself into a formal bow, and asked for their marriage to be dissolved.
Alaric-who had always been indifferent-snapped.
Without warning, he grabbed a cup and hurled it at her.
Elowen didn’t move.
The porcelain struck her temple.
Blood ran down her face.
For a brief moment, he looked startled.
As if he might stand.
Instead, he clenched his jaw.
“There’s no need to act pitiful.”
He refused.
For days, he ignored her entirely.
And then-without explanation-he agreed.
On the eve of their separation, Elowen stood in those chambers and realized…
She felt nothing.
There was nothing she wanted to take.
Not a single thing.
In the mirror, she barely recognized herself.
Married at seventeen.
Four years later-she was hollow.
Pale. Worn thin. Eyes empty.
At least…
She would be free.
She fell asleep that night.
And woke again-at seventeen.
Perhaps even the heavens had taken pity on her.
“Oh?”
The King’s voice pulled her back to the present.
He looked thoughtful.
“She likes Alaric?”
“Yes,” Maerwyn replied with a playful smile. “Elowen is completely smitten. She’s always baking pastries for him and bringing them over herself. Once she hurt her hand, but insisted it didn’t hurt at all-though I ended up eating most of them.”
A few quiet chuckles rippled through the hall.
“And not long ago,” Maerwyn continued lightly, “when Alaric lost his favorite pouch, he was in a terrible mood. Elowen even came to ask me what kind of pattern he preferred-she wanted to make him a new one herself.”
As she spoke, Alaric’s brows slowly drew together.
His discomfort was unmistakable.
To him-
This was nothing but an unwanted burden.
Around the hall, more and more eyes turned toward Elowen.
Curious. Amused. Waiting. Watching.
Another girl might have felt humiliated.
Elowen felt nothing.
Compared to what she had already lived through-this was nothing.
The King laughed.
“So you like him that much? You grew up together. It must be mutual, then. In that case, I shall arrange the betrothal myself-“
“Your Majesty.”
Her voice cut cleanly through the hall.
