As the sun sank behind the ruined hills, the carriage moved again up winding roads, past dark forests, and finally through the high gates of Vorga's capital.
By the time they arrived, the city was cloaked in deep night.
Tall spires rose into the starlit sky, towers crowned with silent bells. Vorga's royal palace was as grand as that of Eldrida, but something about this place felt strange. As if a strange kind of sadness and loneliness loomed over this place.
Asher stepped out first and helped her down.
"Your identity will remain hidden for now," he said quietly. "Very few of my closest aids know your true identity, for the rest you're the woman who saved my life when I was wounded at the border. My lover and now my wife."
Stephania raised an eyebrow. "A romantic little tale."
He smiled faintly. "They love stories here. Especially the kind where the hero returns with the woman who gave him back his life."
"And when will you tell them the truth?" she asked.
"When the time is right. Soon," he promised. "I just need a little more time to make sure no one tries to use you before they understand who you are."
She looked at him for a long moment, reading his face finding no cruelty, no trickery. Only care.
"Alright," she said, finally. "I'll play along."
And she gave him a gentle smile one that didn't fully reach her eyes, but one that told him: I trust you, for now.
The palace gates opened like arms reaching out to welcome her.
To Stephania's surprise, the halls of Vorga were not as cold and distant as their stone walls suggested. Servants lined the corridors with heads bowed in deep respect. Maids scattered flower petals along her path. Court officials smiled not forced or guarded, but wide and genuine.
They bowed not just to her title, but with joy in their eyes, as if her arrival meant something.
Stephania had expected suspicion, distance, even fear.
But instead, she saw celebration.
And in that moment, she understood something clearly: They loved Asher. Fiercely, openly. He was not just their ruler , he was their pride, their protector. And if he had chosen her then they would welcome her too. Not for her crown but because she was his.
Asher led her to the grand foyer, where the head butler, a white-haired man with kind eyes and perfect posture, awaited with a group of women behind him.
"These are your ladies-in-waiting," Asher said, turning to her. "Chosen carefully. Loyal. Capable. And under strict instruction to take care of your every comfort."
The head butler bowed. "We are honored to serve, Your Majesty."
Stephania gave a graceful nod, still adjusting to being addressed that way without spite or sarcasm.
Asher turned back to her. "I need to head to my office. There's too much waiting for me." He gave her a small apologetic smile. "But if anything makes you uncomfortable, anything at all , you come to me. Immediately."
Before she could respond, he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
Her eyes widened, completely caught off guard. Her breath hitched.
And then, Asher leaned in closer, his voice brushing her ear like velvet. "Surely," he whispered playfully, "I have at least that much right."
Stephania flushed crimson.
She tried to cover it, lifting her chin with mock sternness. "You're the king. You should behave like one."
He pulled back, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"I may be the king for them," he said, tilting his head toward the halls behind them, "but to you, my wife, I'm simply your husband."
He turned and walked away without another word.
Stephania stood in stunned silence for a moment. Her cheeks were still burning.
"We've prepared your chamber with great care, Your Majesty," one of the younger maids said with a proud little smile.
The door opened.
Stephania stepped inside and for a moment, forgot how tired she was.
it was beautiful .
The chamber stretched wide, walls of ivory stone softened by crimson and gold tapestries. A grand bed stood beneath an arch of silk drapes, the frame carved with Vorgan emblems , roses tangled in steel. Moonlight poured through tall windows.
It didn't feel cold like she feared. It felt majestic. And strangely hers.
While the other maids began to unpack her belongings and prepare her bath, one woman stepped forward. She bowed stiffly without any smile or warmth.
"I am Cicilia," she said in a clear tone. "Daughter of Lady Ysolde ,His Majesty's former nanny and lifelong guardian. His Majesty placed me in charge of your care, as he trusts me more than most."
Stephania offered a polite nod. "It's an honor to meet you, Lady Cicilia."
Cicilia's lips twitched into something like a smile, but her eyes remained unreadable. Cool. Distant. Not hostile but not eager to serve either.
Stephania made no remark, only returned the nod.
She had no energy to wonder about it tonight.
Instead, she let the maids tend to her brushing her hair gently, helping her into a soft nightgown of silken white, and easing her into a warm bath filled with rose petals and scented oil. Every movement was gentle, respectful, and silent. It was the first time she'd been cared for like this not out of obligation, but reverence.
By the time she dried off and climbed into the grand bed, exhaustion washed over her like a tide. And just as her head touched the pillow, her thoughts began to drift to ruined border villages, to Asher's kiss, to Cicilia's quiet stare. But none of it could keep her eyes open.
Stephania stirred as the first light of morning slipped through the tall windows, golden and quiet. Her lashes fluttered open, and she blinked at the faint rustle of movement nearby.
Then she saw him.
Asher.
Sitting once again in the chair by her bed, arms relaxed across the carved wooden armrests, eyes fixed on her with quiet amusement.
She sat up slowly, still groggy, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Her hair was a soft, tousled halo, her voice still lost to sleep. "your majesty again." she murmured.
Asher smiled.
He had seen her elegant. He had seen her furious. He had seen her cloaked in dignity like a queen .
But this, There was something disarmingly intimate about her like this, draped in silken sheets, her skin glowing faintly against the pale linens, her lips parted in a soft sigh.
Even her frown confused and barely formed as she adjusted to being awake made his heart ache with the need to kiss it away.
She rubbed her eyes like a child, and he smiled, helpless.
"Good morning my wife," he said quietly, trying to keep the longing out of his voice and failing.
She nodded, still dazed, and his heart twisted again.
There was no royal mask on her face now. No practiced poise. Just her. Raw, unguarded, unknowingly enchanting.
And all he could think, as she sat there wrapped in soft sheets and morning haze, was how lucky he was how utterly ruined he would be, if she ever leave him.