The door to the gallery closed behind me with a heavy thud, sealing him inside like a curse.
I didn't look back.
My bare feet touched the marble with quiet precision, steps practiced, but no longer hesitant. The hem of my gown dragged behind me like blood. I could feel him watching me even through the walls—stunned, breathless, and burning.
Good.
Let that burn become his undoing.
Two guards flanked the corridor's arch, still as statues in gilded armor. They bowed, deeper than before. I didn't acknowledge them. I didn't need to. The shift had begun.
They didn't know it yet.
But they would.
I turned down the eastern wing, past tall windows painted with moonlight. The cold stone underfoot didn't sting like it used to. The pain in my body had become something else—a compass. Every nerve humming with purpose. Every ache, a reminder: I was alive, and he was not forgiven.
My hand drifted instinctively to my belly.
The warmth was still there. Faint. Quiet. But alive.
I pressed my palm flat against the silk.
Last time, I hadn't even realized I was pregnant until the bleeding started.
This time… I felt it. The life inside me pulsed with stubborn truth.
He didn't know.He couldn't know.He would never touch this child—not in love, not in violence, not in death.
A maid stood frozen by the entrance to the east hall. She dropped into a low curtsy when she saw me, but her eyes flicked to the ripped neckline of my dress, the bruises already blooming on my throat.
She said nothing.
They never did. But they would talk later.
Let them.
I walked past her and entered my chambers. The fire had burned low in the hearth. Candlelight flickered across the velvet couch, the polished floor, the silver tray by the bed.
"Lira," I said.
She stepped out from the side room immediately, always waiting, always quiet.
But this time, her composure cracked.
"My Lady…" Her eyes widened. "Your gown—"
"Leave it," I said.
"But—"
"Now."
She bowed her head and disappeared.
The moment she was gone, I exhaled.
It wasn't relief. I didn't believe in that anymore.
It was calculation—an exhale to release just enough tension that I wouldn't crack the glass when I threw the wine bottle.
I stared at the mirror across the room. At the woman standing there in a half-destroyed gown, her neck flushed, her lips swollen, her skin marked by a man's mouth.
I stepped closer.
I did not look away.
"You are not broken," I said to her.
"You are not his."
Then I peeled the gown off my shoulders and let it fall.
The bruises stood out stark against my skin, like fingerprints carved in ink. They didn't hurt. Not really. Not compared to the wound he would one day give me.
I turned to the washbasin, dipped a cloth in cold water, and pressed it against my chest. A sharp breath left me.
Memories flickered—his voice, the weight of his body, the moment he whispered you're mine and I almost believed him.
He still thought I belonged to him.
He still thought he could shape me, take me, use me.
But tonight, I had taken him.
He didn't realize it yet, but I had reversed the knife.
He had lost the power the moment he touched me.
The knock came again—soft, careful.
"Come," I said.
Lira stepped in, eyes lowered, carrying a folded letter and a silver tray. Her hands trembled slightly.
"From the Imperial Chancellor," she said. "For tomorrow's council breakfast."
I took the letter without reading it.
"Tell me," I said.
She blinked. "My Lady?"
"You've heard something."
Her fingers tightened on the tray. "There are… whispers."
"About?"
"About His Majesty. That he never returned to his chambers. That he's still in the gallery. Alone. Staring at the wall."
My lips twitched.
"He will wait there for hours," I said, turning away. "He won't understand why it hurts."
"I beg your pardon?"
"He doesn't bleed like we do. So when something cuts him, he calls it confusion."
Lira stared.
I gave her a faint smile. "Let them whisper. Let them wonder. We'll feed them truth when it suits us."
She hesitated. "You sound different tonight."
"I am different."
She looked down again. Her voice dropped. "Do you need me to call the physician? You're pale, and your pulse—"
"No," I interrupted.
Not yet.
The last thing I needed was some old fool with holy fingers and curiosity pressing on my stomach and discovering something I wasn't ready to reveal.
No one could know about the child.
Not until I decided who lived long enough to deserve the truth.
"Leave me," I said. "I'll call you at dawn."
Lira left without another word.
When the door clicked shut, I collapsed into the velvet chair by the hearth.
The heat of the fire touched my bare legs. My muscles ached. My skin still hummed. But it was nothing compared to the storm building behind my ribs.
The child.
My child.
Ours.
But he wouldn't have it.
He had forfeited that right the moment he pulled the blade. The moment he watched me die and turned away without a word.
In this life, that child would be mine alone.
He would never hold it.Never name it.Never twist its fate the way he had twisted mine.
I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I let the silence hold me.
Not comfort me. Just… hold me.
In the last life, I had wept when I found out I was pregnant.
Not because of fear.But because I was happy.I thought it meant something. A new chapter. A clean beginning.
Instead, it had been a countdown.
Now, the child was not hope.
It was leverage.
A reason to live.A weapon of legacy.And if I had to burn the empire to keep it alive, I would pour the oil myself.
The window creaked open behind me. I didn't move.
A soft breeze swept in. Then—
"I told you not to enter without warning."
A voice, low and dry, answered from the shadows. "You didn't say tonight."
I turned.
A figure stepped through the window, cloaked in black, face half-covered. But I knew him.
Therin Malvine.
Palace spymaster. Informant. Ghost.
He bowed, theatrically. "Lady Virelle."
"Countess Virelle," I corrected. "Until tomorrow. Then Empress."
He raised a brow. "You sound confident."
"I sound inevitable."
He smiled faintly, then nodded toward the fire.
"Should I ask what you did to His Majesty? He hasn't moved in an hour."
I looked at him. "Is that what they're saying already?"
"I don't deal in gossip. I deal in silence."
"Silence speaks volumes."
Therin's eyes gleamed.
"You're different," he said, finally.
"I'm awake."
"No. It's more than that."
He stepped closer.
"In the last life—" he stopped, blinking. "Strange. I almost said that like it was real."
My heart stilled.
He looked up. "Why do I remember you dying?"
We stared at each other.
The fire cracked between us.
I didn't answer.
Because if Therin Malvine remembered even a second of what happened in the other timeline, I had just gained the most dangerous ally in the empire.
And he didn't even know it yet.