His fingers curled loosely around the book in his hand as he leaned against the window frame.
Revenge or Dignity? The words spiralled through Nashia's mind as she sat alone in her study.
There were plenty of ways she could have taken revenge. Ruining him would've been the most satisfying way. But something in her conscience stops her from stooping that low.
If I stoop that low… What difference is there between me and them? Will Novia really be at peace with that? The thought hit her harder than she expected.
Uncertainty choked her in silence. Being loved by her people did little to alleviate her loneliness.
Being conflicted, she decides to desert him. To marry the enemy, then leave him like a discarded offering. That alone was a cruel enough revenge. Right?
From being cherished as Zenith's golden prince… to being ignored like nobody in Rosett. It had to sting.
On a calm morning, noise erupted in the training field. An unusual visit from the Empress had stirred quite the excitement.
"You should work on that more."
Nashia's cold tone rang through the training ground as she advised a knight who had just lost a duel against her. A few drops of blood trickled down the clean edge of her blade.
It was nothing new for the imperial training grounds, where blood was shed often – vampires healed fast.
She extended a hand to help him up, and the knight accepted it, rising with a respectful bow.
"Yes, your majesty. I will."
She nodded slightly, her eyes following him until he faded into the knights' crowd. A familiar gesture entered her vision — Duchess Yura offering a handkerchief.
"You were quite fierce today, Your Majesty. You always train in mid-afternoon. Something on your mind?"
"Nothing." She replied shortly. Nothing out of the ordinary. She was already back on her heels to her chamber to change her damp training attire.
But the world was determined to test her nerve. The chaos erupted when he came into view. Eric, in a relaxed fit, his dark hair tousled over his ocean eyes.
Their eyes met – for the first time since their wedding. Her gaze scanned him instinctively, assessing.
He had come from the south side, and Sauveur carried a stack of books just a few paces behind him. Anyone with a working mind could guess he came from the imperial library.
Nashia's chamber was on the southern side, while Eric's was on the northern side of their joint chamber. So, naturally, he had to pass her chamber to get to his.
She had expected more reaction than the momentary pause and the slight finger twitches from him. Eric just bowed, acknowledging her presence.
"Good Morning, your majesty," a quick greeting humbled his presence.
As if seeing her doesn't matter to him at all. He was already on his heels to pass her. But halted his movement when he heard her voice.
"Wait," That wasn't a request— a command, sharp and controlled. She stepped closer.
"Is this how you greet your empress, my dear consort?"
"My apologies, your majesty. I thought you would be too busy to waste your time on me."
Eric replied in a meek tone, but that didn't hide his subtle sarcasm.
Nashia snorted. "Sure, I'm busy. But you aren't, are you?"
"No, your majesty." An awkward silence followed.
Duchess Yura's gaze flickered toward Sauveur, who stood behind Eric with a guarded posture. Both exchanged a worried glance but remained silent as if they didn't exist there.
How can you be so composed, Eric Leonardo? Why can't I see resentment in your eyes? Those words rang through Nashia's mind, but what came out instead was sharper and colder.
"I... knew you weren't as innocent as you look — but it seems you are more cunning than I give you credit for."
His calm face only irritated her more. She was tempted to drag him through fire, to see if that still expression would finally crack.
"I believe you have made my position clear, your majesty. It was your will and I simply accepted."
Eric slowly lifted his eyes, spine straight, chin held high in defiance. Cunning or helpless, is that what you meant, your majesty? Some different words ran through his mind, but they never made it out past his lips.
"So what should I complain about? It wouldn't make any difference; it would only trouble you."
His tone was calm yet had the underlying effect of someone lonely.
"Don't you have any dignity or pride? You were a prince before becoming my husband." She spoke with a glare penetrating his soul.
"I knew that you would treat me like this from before. It doesn't matter whether you ignore me or treat me like a servant," he replied without losing his cool, fueling her anger.
"Tsk. You are hopeless."
"My apologies for being a pain for you." He replied in a low voice as he closed his eyes before opening them once again.
"You can do whatever you want with me. If taking my life is one of those plans, then do so." He said in his low voice without shaking.
It wasn't fear—he simply meant it. Death would be simpler than enduring this slow, soul-draining war.
His lack of pride and dignity burned more than she thought it would. She can't match the circumstances anymore.
"You're insane. By any chance, did you go insane because they sent you to marry me?"
She walked past him, but a glimpse of the hopelessness in his eyes only fueled her frustration further.
Eric looked over his shoulder as she passed him. The duchess nodded curtly before following Nashia.
He stood still there for a few fleeting seconds, his fingers curled into a fist. Then uncurled again. Was it loneliness or anger - no one knew.
He mumbles under his breath,
"If I'm a fool, then you're a mad woman for doing all this," his voice filled with anger and sadness.
After that encounter, Nashia didn't even want to hear about him. But duty doesn't have a place for personal feelings.