Later, when Lusian arrived at the imperial palace, a figure was waiting for him. She wore a black silk robe, her hair tied with almost artificial precision. She carried no guards.
—Confirm that it is true —Empress Naira said—. That you are going to the forest.
Lusian did not pretend to be surprised.
—It is true.
Naira observed him in silence, the way one evaluates a strategic piece, not a person.
—You return alive… or you do not return at all. But before you leave, I must collect the favor you owe me.
Lusian narrowed his eyes.
—I do not understand.
—Our lineage —she explained with surgical precision—. The combination of our bloodlines would produce an exceptional heir. I cannot allow myself to lose that possibility.
Silence. There was no pleading or emotion. Only calculation.
—Are you saying that if I refuse…? —he concluded.
—I am demanding it —Naira corrected—. Either you fulfill it now… or I will not allow you to leave the capital. And the princess…
Lusian held her gaze. No emotional fire passed between them, only the cold tension of two wills colliding.
Finally, he spoke:
—Then tonight.
Naira nodded with the solemnity of someone who was not making a personal decision, but sealing a responsibility.
—Ensuring the survival of the Empire is my duty.
She added nothing more.
For her, this was not an emotional confession nor a choice driven by desire. It was an extension of everything she had always been: strategy, stability, control. She knew how to sustain an empire at war, how to negotiate with nobles, how to read a battle before it happened… but she did not know what to do with something as human as this.
And she did not show it.
That night, the lights of the imperial chambers remained on longer than usual.
There were no unnecessary words.
There were no exaggerated gestures or dramatics. But the simple touch of Lusian made her body tense for a brief instant. Her breathing changed, short and unstable.
Just two people sharing the same space, aware of what was happening, but not truly knowing how to face it.
Naira tried to maintain the same calm she used during military meetings or while confronting rebellious nobles. Her posture remained straight, her voice measured, her movements overly controlled. She wanted to treat this like another responsibility. Something necessary. Something she could resolve with discipline.
But her body did not cooperate.
When Lusian approached, she immediately felt the change in her breathing. The warmth of another person, the closeness, even the accidental brushing of their hands caused her concentration to break in moments in a way she had never experienced before.
And that irritated her slightly.
Because she did not understand how something so simple could unsettle her more than a battlefield.
She tried to hide it.
She kept her gaze steady, although her fingers tensed slightly when he touched her with more care than she expected. There was no pressure in Lusian, no rush, and somehow that made it worse for her. It forced her to feel every small detail: the warmth on her skin, the accelerating heartbeat, the strange sense of vulnerability she had never allowed anyone to see.
Naira was used to controlling entire rooms with a single word.
But there… she could not even control the rhythm of her own breathing.
For an instant, she lowered her gaze, confused with herself.
—This is… more complicated than I imagined —she admitted quietly, almost annoyed at having to say it.
She tried not to sound embarrassed… but failed.
At dawn, the room remained calm.
The Empress was already dressed, her composure intact, as if nothing had changed in the structure of the Empire during the night.
She did not say goodbye.
It was not coldness; she simply did not know what to do with everything Lusian's presence awakened inside her.
And yet… for one brief, almost imperceptible instant, Naira looked away. She had no time for feelings. If the Empire fell, then her bloodline, the throne… and everything she had sworn to preserve would fall with it.
Lusian moved toward the exit of the imperial palace. Elizabeth remained asleep against him atop Thunder, her body resting against his chest while the creature advanced silently through the darkness of dawn.
A voice cut through the night.
—Were you planning to leave without me?
Emily was there, arms crossed, as firm as a wall. The wind made her coat sway as if announcing battle.
—This is not your mission —Lusian said.
—It is not —she admitted—. But it is your life. And I am not leaving you alone.
—I am asking you, stay behind —he murmured.
Emily stepped forward.
—And I refuse. If you want to leave me behind, do it by force.
Thunder did nothing when she mounted him and wrapped her arms around Lusian.
Lusian pressed his lips together. He did not insist.
—Then come. But in silence.
Emily smiled with a dangerous mix of determination and fear.
—Silence is the price of walking beside you.