Chapter 33
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Everette treated the bold idea of reigniting conflict like a poorly timed quip. Those golden eyes, soft with inherent kindness, hardened just enough to notice.
Edwin caught the unspoken critique—his timing for levity missed the mark entirely.
He grasped the depth of the taboo. Demanding Belot’s crown struck at the core of their unyielding spirit, akin to scorning a revered family rite. Tales from ages past overflowed with conquerors consigning enemy regalia to flames.
For such defiant souls, the demand promised explosive backlash, certain as dawn. The Empire had snatched triumph from near collapse; extending the strife invited fresh dangers. Desperation turned even the weakest into threats.
Still, Edwin sensed potential in his outline and pushed forward, a flicker of defensiveness rising.
“Without tangible assets to seize, symbols of prestige offer the next best leverage,” he pointed out.
Everette weighed the notion briefly before offering a slow nod.
Not a flat rejection—Edwin exhaled inwardly, tension uncoiling.
“Seize their crown to settle debts,” he laid out carefully, “hold it briefly, then hand it back on favorable terms.”
Picture the moment at the princess’s crowning, her loyalties now firmly imperial.
Dominant realms had perfected this ritual of granting finery to allies. Coordinated in advance, it would bruise Belot’s ego sharply yet spare outright chaos. Realities left them cornered.
Rejection sealed their fate.
Everette’s focus sharpened, piecing together the intent.
“Imagine scripting the handover early,” he mused, fingers tracing his jaw, gaze igniting. “Frame it as the monarch’s selfless gift for his realm’s survival. We enhance it before returning, radiating grace.”
Their crude workmanship begged improvement; the gesture painted the Empire as lofty and shrewd.
A perfect jab at their lofty self-regard.
Edwin warmed to the sharpening vision.
“Sharp plan, yeah?” he pressed, voice alive.
Everette’s mouth hooked upward, a rogue edge to it. “The king would gag on it, but damn if it wouldn’t work.”
That predatory spark relished the royal’s coming squirm. Foreign rulers’ tempers held no sway over Edwin, who grinned in kind.
“Survival trumps vanity in the end.”
“Bound to.”
Details demanded work, but renewal lit Everette’s face. He whispered a pledge to tackle it first upon return.
Nearby hallway chatter buried the vow.
New leverage in hand for the Belot deadlock, Edwin reached the palace under cover of night, Rina’s company stretching till twilight faded.
Accumulated tasks from his escapes loomed, drawing him directly to his study with Kyle trailing.
Kyle clung to the edges of vision from entryway onward, radiating quiet censure for the unheralded rendezvous.
Edwin slashed him a sharp look.
Kyle armored up with a steadfast beam. “Out with Ms. Diaz again?”
The fourth and final showcase from Kyle’s lineup.
Plain as day, still he fished for confirmation. Edwin parried shortly, dropping into his chair, snatching files—a cue to end the pleasantries.
No desire for post-meeting sermonizing.
Familiarity had eroded old divides.
Kyle persisted, sliding over ink and pen before unleashing the true upbraiding. “Sentries lost their minds at your vanishing act and dragged me into it.”
Memory surfaced: the rush to meet Rina overrode announcements.
Edwin sidestepped the stare, weight pressing in as Kyle’s smile widened on the fallout.
Yielding ground now stretched the torment.
“These weekly jaunts are standard,” Edwin tossed back evenly, eyes on pages. “Hardly panic-worthy. You got word of the spot.”
Kyle heaved a pointed sigh, filling the space. Edwin’s brow twitched, but the documents held firm.
Quiet impasse cracked first on Kyle’s side.
Contact restored, Edwin commanded. “Schedule the princess.”
“Cover story?”
“Overhaul those payments.”
Edwin unpacked Rina’s concept, watching Kyle mirror his own path from doubt to draw.
In the pause, Edwin savored the parallel—mirroring her sway over him.
Kyle voiced approval. “Barring fierce pushback from Belot, flawless move.”
Alignment landed; he backed it fully.
Edwin’s chest swelled with vicarious acclaim, smile breaking free.
Kyle noted it mid-exit to rally staff before midnight.
“Soft touch for your style, Majesty.”
He’d half-expected her barbs to spark fresh battles.
Tease met frank reply. “Blame Ms. Diaz.”
Bragging rights burned bright.
The name alone melted his guard.
Second thoughts nagged instantly.
Kyle averted clouded eyes from the softened sovereign, then indulged. “Turned heads since Camelot, that one.”
“Right there with you.”
Edwin hungered for more.
Kyle’s lips danced—extra effort uncalled for—yet admiration ran deep for her edge.
“Waste to bury that spark so low.”
Files refreshed in mind: Imperial Academy administrative pinnacle on arrival, exit, and hiring trials.
Politics snubbed in Finance, but prowess rang true.
“One more her caliber in Blue Hawks nets me triple the shut-eye.”
Grumble aside, café duties begged reassessment for real rest.
“Build out the roster.”
Edwin’s refrain rang steady.
“Doesn’t work with randos.”
Skills alone fell short; imperial vaults demanded flawless pasts.
Prime finds wouldn’t have waited.
Kyle’s pout stayed private.
Insight flashed on the fresh name.
Edwin lingered in Diaz reverie as Kyle tested waters. “Mind if I pursue a prospect that impresses?”
Easy nod locked in Rina’s shift.
