Chapter 48
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Rina dominated the academy’s entry trials, topped its final assessments, and aced the hiring evaluations. Yet she lingered in a minor role within the treasury office.
Kyle pondered her apparent disinterest in courting influential allies or chasing promotions.
Faced with boundless wealth, her requests stayed humble: a quaint duplex home, a steady allowance for idle comfort, plus safeguards against misfortune.
That same resolve gleamed when she decisively ended ties with the Renkels clan.
On second thought, her unawareness of Edwin’s hidden role suited his circumstances perfectly.
Eager to lift some weight from Edwin’s shoulders, Kyle offered a measured suggestion.
No need to conceal the truth indefinitely. Simply hold off until affection for him overshadowed any imperial revelation.
Edwin wavered still.
Better to reveal everything now and face dismissal if the weight proved too heavy.
Respecting Edwin’s reluctance, Kyle retracted his gentle nudge.
Should rejection come, they could simply share a round of drinks.
Right then, a flicker ignited in Edwin’s gaze.
Plainly, he dreaded the sting of refusal.
Sensing an opening, Kyle pressed further with calculated barbs.
Carolina Diaz sparkled as a prize worth pursuing. Imperial status or not, suitors would swarm her swiftly. Marriage loomed on her horizon too.
Edwin’s fingers crushed the table’s edge amid rising fury. He fixed Kyle with a scorching stare, as though Kyle embodied the phantom suitor who might claim her after spurning him.
Tension thickened the air, yet Kyle pressed on, grin unwavering.
His Majesty might wed some strategic aristocrat, while Diaz thrived beside her spouse in that snug duplex, nurturing broods of lively offspring, basking in domestic bliss.
Another chunk of wood splintered free at the notion of those offspring, tumbling from Edwin’s clutch. Those blazing amber eyes pinned Kyle without mercy.
Edwin channeled his rage squarely at Kyle, not the faceless rival.
Maybe Kyle had overplayed his hand. Still, every syllable aimed to serve Edwin’s interests. Untrained beyond polished courtly grace, Kyle now braced against the backlash.
Another incentive seemed timely.
With the jab landing true, Kyle murmured like a spellweaver.
Pardon often outpaces comprehension. Consider my father—chastised harshly, yet their union endured.
The example rang authentic, drawn from lived history.
Terrence, passing down his soft chestnut locks, vivid emerald gaze, and gentle spirit, hailed from a sidelined Robertus lineage once aligned with the prior sovereign. Love struck him instantly for Viola Seymour, offspring of a retainer’s house loyal to Edwin’s sire, then the heir apparent—factions forever clashing.
Terrence severed frayed family bonds to claim Viola, burying his Robertus roots. Back then, tensions pitted the heir against second-prince partisans like Robertus; mere friction, not ruin, easing his path.
Soon after vows, the heir’s vigor crumbled overnight. A trivial chill morphed into crimson coughs and convulsions, spiraling chaos. His prior vitality fueled whispers of toxin or hex. Fingers pointed to the second prince amid scant proof. Healers exhausted every art, diagnosis elusive.
The heir faded gradually, the throneholder aged frail, his lone heir too tender. Succession shifted.
To the second prince.
Demoted to dukedom, the ex-heir vanished into retreat post a covert summit with the new heir. Safeguarding kin and followers beyond his end. For survivors, pure bitterness brewed as they eyed their fading patron.
Seymour and Robertus evolved from foes to bitter adversaries.
Terrence’s veil tore seven years post-wedding.
Trials mounted, yet husband and wife savored solid joy amid graver odds than Edwin and Rina confronted.
That tale tipped Edwin’s resolve. Delay in pardon suited him fine, so long as no rival warmed that duplex with her, spawning those broods.
Rejection terrified him utterly.
I dangled my legs off the bed’s edge, torso slumped atop the covers. Rather than caution him properly, I’d sown discord between Everette and me.
I’d ignored how the Emperor’s fame for purging wayward aides coexisted with fierce devotion from afar. Feelings flowed unevenly at times.
Confusion mingled with sorrow in Everette’s stare, laced with elusive shades.
From then on, Rina vowed silently to avoid the Emperor’s initial in Everette’s presence.
Regret arrived fashionably late; the slip had escaped already.
She longed to rewind days like the tale’s lead, even briefly.
Fate forbade it.
The realm’s sole time-reversal relic belonged solely to that protagonist, single-use across eternity.
A few frustrated thrashes at the bedding later, resolve hardened to confront the mess.
Repairs demanded action.
Her misstep had eroded Everette’s regard; counterbalance required fresh prospects, thrusting her into rare intelligence streams beyond a mere aide’s reach.
He’d invited her to seek him out whenever ready to join forces.
Hair smoothed, she glanced at the clock.
As the intelligence network’s facade, Kyle’s cafe stretched operations late.
Barely in time. Must dash.
Set to dispatch the recruitment nod swiftly, she raced over, slipping inside prior to lockdown.
Entry paused outside.
Gasping inside to plead her case smacked of desperation.
More training would have served her well.
Breath steadied gazing through illuminated panes.
No figures stirred; perhaps Kyle huddled in the annex.
Pulse evened, summer gusts soothed her warmed face.
Fingers grazed the latch; she inhaled deeply to twist it inward. Instead, the panel burst outward.
Momentum tugged her forward half a pace. There stood a familiar face.
Everette emerging from Kyle’s cafe?
Déjà vu prickled sharply.
Edwin absorbed the startling intersection, murmuring Rina’s name for reassurance. Her answer tumbled out stiffly, though unnoticed.
Awkward vigil at the threshold shattered as Kyle neared, spotting Edwin frozen despite palace-bound plans.
“Something amiss, Your Majes…”
He hailed Edwin mid-stride.
