Chapter 253 TEIGEN LXXXIII
But I knew him. Beneath the crown and the beast, he was only a man trying to keep his world from falling apart. And somehow, I had become that world.
The thought made something twist softly in my chest.
I brushed my hair from my face and sat up slowly. Someone, likely Greer, had changed me into a simple linen nightdress. The covers were tucked high, as though I were a child.
A tray sat beside the bed, steam rising from a cup of honeyed tea. A letter lay beside it, sealed with red wax.
I broke it open with unsteady fingers.
You will eat every bite, or I will set Greer to watch you. Rest well. The bards will not be harmed. We will speak before the masquerade. — D.
A quiet laugh escaped me, filled with relief.
He had listened.
“The king can be reasoned with after all,” I murmured.
I lifted the tea, letting its warmth settle into my hands. Beyond the chamber, the palace stirred awake. Distant footsteps, the clang of trays, the faint hum of the court beginning its day.
I should have felt guilty for missing it. Yet I did not. For once, there was stillness. Peace.
My thoughts drifted to the masquerade that night. Soon, everything would change.
My gaze moved to the desk where my vows lay unfinished. The ink curved across the page, uneven but honest. I traced the words with my finger and whispered them softly.
“To you, my beloved, my heart and my soul.”
I wanted no scribe to write them. No oracle to shape them. I wanted him to hear me as I was.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” I called.
Lady Cordelia entered, graceful as ever, her smile bright. “I hear the king nearly shook the palace last night,” she said lightly. “You cause him great trouble.”
I smiled. “It seems I do.”
She sat across from me and poured herself tea. “He sent me to see that you eat. And to make sure you do not stir more chaos.”
“So I am watched.”
“Gently,” she said with a tilt of her head.
We laughed, and for a time we spoke of simple things. The weather. Court gossip. Small, ordinary matters. It felt almost like another life.
Her gaze fell to my desk. “Your vows?”
I nodded. “I have been working on them.”
“They will move hearts,” she said.
“I hope so.” I hesitated. “There is something else I have been thinking on.”
She leaned forward. “Tell me.”
“The children at the opera house,” I said quietly. “The ones who sleep beneath broken roofs. I cannot forget them.”
Her expression softened. “I remember.”
“I want to build a place for them,” I went on. “A home. Somewhere safe. Somewhere they can learn and live without fear.”
She looked at me with surprise. “That is no small dream.”
“It is what my mother would have done,” I said. “Darius guards the empire with strength. Perhaps I can guard its heart.”
Cordelia studied me for a long moment. “You have changed.”
“Have I?”
“There is resolve in you now,” she said. “The kind kings carry into battle.”
I lowered my gaze. “He has influenced me.”
She smiled faintly. “Then you may yet thrive here. But listen well. Compassion alone is not enough. You will need power.”
The word made me uneasy. “Power frightens me.”
“It should,” she said. “But so should helplessness.”
She reached across the table and took my hand.
“You cannot live only beneath his protection. You must stand beside him. Not just as wife, but as equal.”
I looked down at my hands. “I never wished to rule.”
“Then do not rule with fear,” she said. “Rule with kindness. But remember, a crown still carries weight.”
“And if I fail?”
She smiled. “Then you rise again.”
Silence followed, gentle but heavy.
At last I nodded. “Then I will try.”
She rose, her expression warm. “Then perhaps this empire has found its empress.”
Hope stirred within me, fragile but growing.
After she left, I returned to my desk. My hand trembled as I took up the quill, but I wrote anyway.
“I will make myself not only a queen, but an empress worthy of him.”
For the first time since coming here, I believed it.
~
The courtyard below gleamed in the morning light, but I found no comfort in its beauty.
Not while danger lingered near her.
From the balcony, I watched in silence. Music drifted upward from the hall, light and playful. Once, it would have meant peace. Now it felt like a fragile mask.
And there she was.
Audrey.
She moved across the floor with easy grace, laughter rising as Greer spun her. The other ladies watched, smiling, their voices soft with delight.
Ryker stood beside me, though his gaze was not entirely on the dance.
“If you stare much longer,” I said, “she may think you mean to eat her alive.”
He startled, then frowned. “I was not—”
“You were,” I said with a faint smile.
He shook his head. “You have changed, my king.”
“Perhaps,” I murmured, still watching her. “But I do not regret it.”
She stumbled and laughed, catching her balance.
That sound struck something deep within me.
She was not merely dancing. She was reclaiming joy after fear.
Yet the memory of her blood still burned in my mind.
“She heals quickly,” Ryker said.
“She is stronger than most,” I replied. “But strength does not make her safe.”
He grew serious. “You believe the same man is behind this?”
“I know it.”
He frowned. “He followed us?”
“I sensed him near the walls,” I said quietly. “And he is not alone.”
“Then someone within the court aids him.”
“Yes,” I said. “And I will find them.”
Ryker nodded. “What would you have me do?”
“Seek the makers of those arrows,” I said. “There are few who could craft them. One of them may lead us to him.”
“I will leave after the masquerade,” he said.
“You will attend first,” I replied. “The court must see strength, not fear.”
A knight approached, bowing. “The bards await.”
My jaw tightened. "Come,” I said.
As I turned, Audrey looked up. Our eyes met. For a moment, the world stilled.