They thought I did not notice.
The way the room quieted when I entered. The way eyes followed me—not with awe, but with calculation. The Empress masked it better than most. Odessa smiled like a blade polished to gleam, all elegance and menace intertwined.
A woman who ruled by fear dressed as love.
Zaeran was not present.
That, too, was a statement.
I stood before the council table with my hands clasped behind my back, posture impeccable, expression unreadable. Years of court politics had taught me one essential skill—never react first. Let others reveal themselves.
“She is resting,” Odessa said smoothly, sipping from her goblet. “The escape was… unfortunate. But youth is impulsive.”
Escape.
So that was how she framed it.
“My bride was injured while fleeing her own palace,” I replied evenly. “That is not impulsiveness. That is desperation.”
A flicker—just a flicker—passed through Odessa’s eyes. Annoyance. Not concern.
“My daughter has always been dramatic,” she said. “She will come to understand her duty.”
Duty.
I had burned villages for less offensive words.
“My concern,” I continued, “is not whether Lady Zaeran understands. It is whether she was misled.”
Silence fell.
Odessa set her goblet down with deliberate care. “Choose your words wisely, Prince Rostamir.”
I stepped closer to the table, voice low, controlled. “Someone told her I already had a wife.”
That landed.
One of the council managers inhaled sharply. Odessa did not look surprised—only thoughtful.
“A lie,” she said at last. “An inconvenient one.”
“No,” I corrected. “A dangerous one.”
I straightened my cuffs, finally allowing a sliver of steel into my tone. “If anyone in this palace believes they can poison my future wife against me without consequence, they are gravely mistaken.”
Odessa studied me. Measuring. Testing.
“You speak boldly for a man newly bound,” she said.
“I speak boldly because I intend to remain alive,” I replied. “And so does Zaeran.”
That earned me a smile—sharp, approving.
“You care for her already,” Odessa observed.
I did not deny it.
“I will not force her loyalty,” I said. “But I will not allow it to be stolen from her either.”
Odessa leaned back in her throne, fingers steepled. “Then you understand the game.”
“I understand war,” I said. “And betrayal wears many uniforms.”
Her gaze lingered on me for a long moment before she waved a hand dismissively. “You may go. Preparations will continue.”
I bowed—not in submission, but in acknowledgment—and turned to leave.
As I crossed the threshold, one thought burned with unsettling clarity:
Zaeran did not trust me.
And someone had ensured it.
I would find out who.
And when I did—
They would learn what it meant to lie to a tyrant who had already chosen his queen.
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