Marrying a Warhound (Cassian) novel Chapter 140

Chapter 140

Chapter 140

MATRON YARA’S MANSION

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The scent of brewed tea and burning cedar filled the study. Matron Yara sat at the center of it, a silk shawl draped over her shoulders, her sharp eyes focused on the chessboard laid out before her.

A soft tune floated through the air. It was the sound of a violin, played by one of her attendants from the corner of the room. Each note was careful, practiced, yet distant enough not to disturb her concentration.

The chessboard was made of ivory and onyx, polished until the candlelight gleamed off its surface. Yara studied the pieces quietly, one hand wrapped around her teacup, the other hovering over the board.

She lifted the white bishop and made a slow move, her rings catching the light. The opposing black knight was trapped. She smiled faintly, not because of the move itself, but because of the elegance of it, the inevitability.

Her gaze shifted to the black king. The piece stood surrounded, boxed in by white pieces that had moved inch by inch to corner it. “Poor thing,” she murmured, setting her cup down. “You can see the end coming, but you can’t stop it.”

She leaned back slightly, her eyes flicking toward the black queen. It was still on the board, positioned dangerously close to the front lines. Her smile deepened. “But of course, the game isn’t truly over until the queen falls.”

Maningo, who had been standing silently behind her chair, cleared his throat. “Matron,” he said cautiously.

She didn’t look up. “Since I’m in an excellent mood,” she said, tone almost playful. “I’ll allow you to ask your question.”

“Forgive me, Matron,” Maningo said, bowing his head. “But may I ask why you seem so… pleased? Lady Atasha isn’t showing any signs of witchcraft. Currently, people outside are praising her. If she passes the test, won’t that only make Lord Cassian stronger?”

The violinist paused briefly at the sharpness in his words, then resumed playing, quieter this time.

Yara finally looked away from the board and reached for the black queen. She turned it between her fingers, the carved crown gleaming in the light. “Do you know how to play chess, Maningo?”

“I do, Matron,” he answered. “But I’m not very good at it.”

Her lips curved faintly. “Then let me explain something simple. Losing the queen is detrimental to the game. It breaks the board’s balance. The king may still stand, but his strength, his confidence, falters. Every move after that becomes desperate.”

She placed the black queen down, gently but with meaning. “Lady Atasha is that queen,” she said, voice low. “She doesn’t need to be a witch to be dangerous. She only needs to make Cassian believe she is his salvation.”

Maningo shifted uneasily. “Then the test-”

“-is not about proving whether she is a witch,” Yara finished for him. “It’s about turning the board.” She

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8:45 Wed, Oct 15 ..

Chapter 140

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reached forward again, sliding the white pawn into position and capturing the black queen in one swift motion. The ivory piece clinked softly against the wood as she removed the black queen from the board.

“Once the queen falls,” she said, holding the captured piece between two fingers. “The king becomes predictable. Easy to trap. Easy to kill.”

Maningo bowed his head again. “I understand, Matron.”

“I doubt you do,” Yara said, almost kindly. She set the black queen aside and reached for her teacup again. “Cassian Valemont may be feared by the North, but every beast has a weakness. His is walking right beside him, and she doesn’t even know it yet.”

The music swelled softly behind her, the violinist’s bow gliding over the strings. Yara lifted the captured piece and turned it once more between her fingers, admiring the craftsmanship.

“Let them enjoy their victory,” she murmured, setting the piece down beside the board.

So predictable.

Atasha Black was young, impulsive and hopelessly naive. She wanted to prove herself to Cassian so badly that she hadn’t even realized she’d walked into a trap of her own making. A girl like that didn’t need an enemy. She was her own undoing.

“She’s innocent,” Yara muttered, eyes back on the board. “And innocence is the easiest thing to break.”

The girl had power, that much was true. A rare kind, even. Healing was a blessing in the eyes of the weak. It is a gift from the moon, they said. But in reality, gifts like that were nothing more than chains. Power like hers always came with a price, and sooner or later, it demanded payment.

“So what if she can heal?” Yara said under her breath. “In this world, the more special you are, the faster they find a way to use you.”

A sharp knock cut through the air. She looked toward the door, her calm expression never faltering.

She flicked her fingers toward the violinist. “Leave us.”

The music stopped at once. The young man bowed and quickly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Maningo moved to answer the knock. When the door opened, a man dressed entirely in black stepped inside and bowed deeply. His boots left a faint mark on the polished marble.

“Let him in,” Yara said, not lifting her gaze from the board.

Maningo stepped aside, allowing the man to enter before quietly excusing himself and pulling the door shut.

“I presume you bring good news?” Yara asked, setting her cup down and finally looking up at him.

The man bowed again. “Greetings to the future Matron of the North,” he said smoothly.

Yara let out a short snort. “Spare me the flattery,” she said. “Your original plan didn’t work. The beast tide didn’t kill the Lord of the North, nor did it destroy his men.”

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