Chapter 26
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The Princess of Belot concluded her drawn-out appeal.
“…and so we humbly beseech the Empire to extend mercy in its verdict.”
Edwin marveled inwardly at her talent for transforming a simple bid to ease reparations into an epic address.
“We’ll review your petition carefully,” he assured her.
He reined in his biting wit, choosing words as mild as he could manage.
Freshly forged peace meant avoiding fresh battles at all costs.
Seizing the momentary lull, he motioned for a servant to fling wide the grand chamber doors.
“Your affirmative decision would bring us great relief…”
A tight smile accompanied his nod, designed to halt any encore.
A spark of optimism lit her somber expression, shadowed by the famine gripping her lands after surrender.
Edwin conceded she deserved that flicker of possibility.
The tenacious royal appeared ready to withdraw at last.
“After a full week here, your journey’s toll surely persists—please withdraw to recover.”
His command carried unmistakable finality.
Well past the appointed slot, she departed, and he savored the victory.
The heavy doors sealed shut, unleashing his bottled resentment in a rush.
Eight years of brutal conflict had pitted the allied kingdoms against imperial forces.
Belot anchored that coalition.
This very princess had tipped the scales in their favor, persuading defiant nobles to yield in return for safeguarding the crown and the realm itself.
Mountain barriers and rampant elite beasts rendered full absorption impractical.
Yet tolerating a nest of fervent imperial foes felt intolerable.
Edwin rejected the notion of a dagger poised perpetually behind him.
As compromise, they elevated her—a marginal heir—to Crown Princess, paving the way for an empire-friendly monarch.
He regretted the obligation to shield her until power solidified.
A quiet tsk escaped his lips.
His glance snagged on the wall timepiece. Wrong moment entirely.
“Fetch fresh attire immediately,” he snapped at the nearest aide.
After a beat of dismay followed by resolve, the order flew.
The servant wheeled in a stand laden with covert garments.
Edwin snatched a bold ensemble, donned it swiftly, and slipped from the palace confines.
Carolina Diaz drew him outward, naturally.
He reached the designated spot by the display venue, where Rina already lingered patiently.
Striding forward, he closed the distance.
Her warm grin welcomed him, bypassing any probe into his delay.
Guilt prompted him to justify regardless, shifting uneasily.
“Matters dragged on unexpectedly.”
Rina exhaled deeply right after.
Did the wait irk her that much?
Thankfully—or not—her breath targeted the palace’s toll on souls.
Or perhaps it landed on him after all?
Edwin wrestled uncertainty as her gaze mirrored a laborer’s quiet burdens.
“You’ve endured enough today. Exhibition wraps soon, so let’s dash in and catch it all.”
Her palm grazed his arm in reassurance.
Sympathy—or what felt like it—from Rina propelled him through the entrance.
Kyle’s intel rang true; she navigated the space with effortless grace.
“Lord Rojas, behold the vellum for crafting old-world scrolls. Doesn’t it captivate?”
Her violet gaze danced with delight, pulling an automatic nod from him.
His tepid murmur only fueled her zeal.
“Fancy that—Lord Rojas shares my passion for bygone eras.”
Ancient relics held zero allure for Edwin.
Childhood stints at the Royal Academy had soured him on history lectures.
Captivated solely by her puppyish glee over tattered sheets and snapped pens.
Endearingly frivolous, as ever.
Artifacts thrilled Rina; her joy enthralled Edwin.
Two full circuits later, color bloomed in her face.
Outside, he wafted air toward her with gentle sweeps.
Eyelids fluttered shut against the gust, evoking a silver-winged insect alighting on amethyst.
Warmth seeped from her skin to his, prompting him to halt and ease away discreetly.
“Appreciate it, Lord Rojas.”
Eyes reopening to the vanished draft, she beamed radiantly.
Reciprocating now, Rina waved her hand before his face.
“Sweltering in there, right?”
The delicate pale motion hovered near.
“Quite stifling, yes.”
Outdoors amplified his inner blaze far beyond the hall’s stuffiness. That faint stir along jaw and throat failed to quench rising fire.
Instinct seized her wrist softly; he recoiled at the unbidden grasp.
Surprise rounded her eyes at the abrupt hold, yet she held steady. He monitored her, frozen similarly.
Sweat from his tension—was it clammy against her?
Awkward quiet loomed until she broke it.
“Fancy a cool treat? Fresh fruit squeezes sound perfect.”
Affirmation burst from him instantly. He’d have agreed to Kyle’s brew without hesitation.
Her diminutive grip guided him to a juice stall. Matching her pick, they claimed seats as chilled glasses arrived.
Rina savored a hearty pull of pometi nectar, bliss etching her features like a contented feline.
Edwin mirrored the expression.
Another swallow left residue on his mouth; his tongue darted to clear it.
All focus locked on her mouth.
“Not sipping yours? Pure bliss.”
Spotting his fixation, she cocked her head.
He hefted the frosted vessel gingerly, as if scalding, and drained it fast.
Icy chill barely tempered his smoldering core. Vision hazed as eyes strayed persistently.
Rina noted his renewed hush.
“Lord Rojas, exhaustion hitting hard? Shall we call it early?”
Everette’s gaze held faint crimson threads upon closer scrutiny. Had my solo rapture overburdened him?
“Far from weary,” he countered.
The drift in his stare snapped crisp.
Pushing through held no merit, I sensed.
Repeated gentle probes met firm denials. His palm swept his features, insisting all was well; persistence felt futile.
Concern laced my next query.
“Duties overwhelming you?”
As the Emperor’s right hand, overload came standard. Venting wouldn’t erase them, but perhaps eased his spirit.
A playful edge crept in.
“Paper trails baffle me utterly—returned to mountains stacked sky-high.”
Guilt pricked; my slice surely added to it. Solace guided my fingers to his hand’s dorsum.
Explained the wandering focus.
His smile lingered on the touch.
Work gripes faded quick—palace talk rarely spilled beyond walls.
Boyish mischief colored his tone.
“Sharing this highlights the lengths I went for our rendezvous, Ms. Diaz. Cease shooing me off; pure boasting.”
Cheeky delivery aside, his look veered aside. Crimson tinged his skin like ember on parchment, mischief yielding to bashful youth.
My reflection probably mirrored it. Eyes that traced his lobe now fled downward.
This vibe invited more.
Fingers twisted restlessly in my lap.
