Elara Pov
The silence following the ceremony was louder than the cheers had been.
There was no grand banquet, no celebration to mark the union of two kingdoms. Eri had made it clear: the ritual was finished, the oath was fulfilled, and she had duties that could not wait. This wedding was a structural necessity, not a romantic fantasy. We were dismissed like strangers who had simply signed a contract.
I sat on the edge of the sprawling bed, the soft mattress sinking under my weight. I had already shed the heavy white wedding dress, replaced now by a minimalist silk nightgown. The fabric was thin, a pale cream that felt like a second skin, clinging to my curves and trailing down to my ankles. It was elegant, yet undeniably provocative.
I looked at my reflection in the tall gilded mirror and felt my cheeks heat up. My mind drifted back to a conversation with Miya.
"Will there be a honeymoon?" she had teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.
I had laughed it off then. "Of course not, Miya. We aren't here to produce an heir. It's a political bond, nothing more."
But now, in the quiet of the night, the "what ifs" began to haunt me. What if she actually came? My mind flashed back to that afternoon in her chambers—the weight of my body pressed against hers, the way we had stared at each other until the air felt too thin to breathe.
"No!" I whispered, shaking my head violently to clear the image.
I reached for the crystal decanter on the side table and poured a glass of wine, taking a long, sharp gulp to steady my nerves.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
The sound erupted through the room, making my heart leap into my throat. I froze, the wine glass trembling in my hand. I stood up slowly, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked vulnerable—my hair loose, the thin silk of my gown leaving very little to the imagination. My heart was drumming so loudly I could feel it in my fingertips.
Is it her?
With shaking hands, I walked to the door and pulled it open, my breath held tight.
But the hallway was empty, save for a lady chamberlain who bowed low. She didn't look at me, her eyes fixed on the floor as she held out a folded piece of parchment sealed with the royal crest of Kazunaga.
"A message from Her Majesty," she murmured.
I took the letter and closed the door. I let out a dry, breathy laugh. Of course. Why would she come? I felt a strange mix of relief and a sharp, stinging disappointment. I walked back to the bed and broke the seal, my fingers cold.
The handwriting was sharp, elegant, and impossibly honest.
To my Wife,
Do not expect me to come to our chamber tonight. Our marriage was forged for the bond of our alliance, and the traditional expectations of this night were never part of our private agreement. I have duties that require my presence elsewhere.
However, do not mistake my absence for indifference. You are no longer a guest in Kazunaga; you are its Queen. As long as I draw breath, I will stand between you and any shadow that dares to cross your path. My life is the shield that guards yours, and that is a vow I will keep until my last breath.
Rest well. I shall see you in the morning.
-Eri
I stared at the parchment, my heart doing a slow, painful roll. "Until my last breath?"
I leaned back against the pillows, tracing the letters of her name with my thumb. "Do you even know what you are saying, Your Majesty?" I whispered to the empty room.
The letter was too beautiful, too honest, and far too dangerous. She had claimed my future in a single sentence, yet left me to face the night alone. I bit my lip, the heat in my cheeks refusing to fade. Eri was a mystery I had legally bound my soul to, and tonight, the silence of the room was my only company.
On the other side
Eri Pov
While the rest of the palace settled into a quiet, post-ceremonial hum, the royal library was ablaze with candlelight.
I sat at the heavy oak desk, surrounded by stacks of parchment, tax ledgers, and council reports. The scratch of my quill was the only sound in the room. I didn't look up when the door opened.
"It has been delivered, Your Majesty," the lady chamberlain murmured, bowing low.
I offered a single, sharp nod. "You may go."
As the door clicked shut, Lourice, who had been leaning against a bookshelf with a bored expression, finally spoke. She watched the chamberlain leave before turning her sharp gaze toward me.
"How sad for the pretty Queen Consort," Lourice remarked, her voice dripping with her usual teasing edge. "To spend her very first night in Kazunaga sleeping all alone."
I paused, my quill hovering just above a signature line. I looked up, my expression flat. "Is she supposed to have company?"
Lourice let out a short, dry laugh. "Your Majesty, we are talking about your wife."
"And?" I countered, meeting her eyes.
"And what?" Lourice shot back, stepping closer to the desk. "Most people—especially royalty—prefer to spend their wedding night with the person they just vowed their life to."
I set the quill down, the ink staining the wood. I leaned back, trying to maintain the cold, impenetrable wall I had built around myself. "I do not see the necessity. Our agreement was clear. We are married because of the blood oath, for the sake of the kingdoms. The logistics of the alliance do not require me to share a bed."
Lourice tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "Why are you being so defensive, Your Majesty?"
"I am not being defensive," I snapped, perhaps too quickly. "I simply have work to do. I have tax reviews, advisor reports, and council mandates that require my full attention. Not now, Lourice."
"If you say so," Lourice whispered, giving me one last knowing look before retreating into the shadows of the library.
I picked up the quill again, but the letters on the page began to blur. My mind was no longer on taxes or treaties.
Deep down, beneath the layers of duty and ice, a single image kept surfacing: the moment the great doors of the hall had swung open. I remembered the way the light had caught Elara's raven hair against the white silk of her gown. I remembered the way her breath hitched when I took her hand.
I had called her a goddess in my mind, a vision of light that made the crimson of my own gown feel like a shadow.
I shook my head, forcing my eyes back to the parchment. I was the Queen of Kazunaga, and I had a kingdom to protect. But as I stared at the flickering candle, I couldn't help but wonder if the woman in the other wing was staring at the same moon, reading the words I had written with a shaking hand.