CHAPTER 264: THE LOOKS

Soren returned to his chambers well past midnight, exhaustion weighing on shoulders that had carried empire and grief for too many hours without rest.

Council meetings with remaining loyalists, strategy sessions with Ryse about security, reports from the outer districts about reconstruction progress... it all blurred together into single endless task that couldn’t be completed, only managed.

He opened his chamber door quietly, half-expecting darkness.

Instead, he found Eris asleep in his bed.

She’d curled on her side, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, white hair spilled across white sheets like ink on snow. The burgundy gown from earlier had been replaced by simple sleeping shift, modest but somehow more intimate than anything elaborate could have been.

Satisfaction flickered through his exhaustion. Such simple thing... coming home to find her here, safe, breathing, present... and yet it filled spaces inside him he hadn’t realized were empty.

But the guilt returned immediately after, crushing that brief moment of peace.

She nearly died because of him. Because he’d asked for her help, dragged her into Vetra’s war, made her a target. And now, Mira, sweet shy Mira who’d followed her mistress to foreign empire, was missing... possibly dead, possibly being tortured, possibly worse.

All of it traced back to his decisions. His needs. His selfish desire to have Eris at his side rather than sending her somewhere safe where Vetra’s schemes couldn’t reach.

Soren moved closer, boots silent on carpet, until he stood beside the bed watching her sleep. In rest, the sharp edges she wore like armor softened slightly. He remembered when he had found her asleep in her garden just like this, glasses perched on her nose, maps and scrolls scattered on the table.

He hadn’t realized then, that it was the beginning of his downfall.

And now,

She looked younger somehow, less the formidable Fire Queen and more just... Eris. Woman who’d been hurt too many times, who carried a god inside her and somehow remained herself.

He leaned down, pressed kiss to her forehead... gentle, reverent, apology wrapped in affection.

Then retreated to the outer room where smaller couch waited. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep beside her, not when guilt ate at him like acid, not when every time he closed his eyes he saw demons tearing through his people while he’d been powerless to stop them.

Sleep came fitfully, haunted by screams and ash and Eris’s body cracking apart under divine weight.

...

Hours later, Eris woke to empty bed and pale morning light.

Soren was nowhere to be found. His side of the bed... not that he’d slept in it, she realized, noting the undisturbed sheets... remained cold. She washed quickly in basin that had been prepared, allowed maids to help her into practical riding clothes rather than court gowns.

Her mind drifted back to Mira while hands braided her hair. Still missing. It was a full day now without word, without trace, without even body to confirm the worst.

Guilt twisted sharp in Eris’s chest. Mira had followed her all the way from Solmire, had chosen her over safety and familiarity, and Eris couldn’t even watch over her properly. Couldn’t protect one shy girl from whatever had swallowed her in the night.

"Continue the search," she ordered the guards stationed outside Soren’s chambers. "And don’t return to me if you haven’t found anything yet. Even a clue. Someone knows something."

They bowed and departed at speed.

Eris went searching for Soren, following instinct and the faint trail of his presence through palace corridors, until she found him in the stables preparing to leave. He wore practical traveling clothes, heavy cloak against winter cold, sword at his hip.

"Soren."

He turned, smile forming automatically... warm, genuine, the expression he wore for her and almost no one else. But she felt the seriousness beneath it, the weight he carried that hadn’t been there days ago.

"You’re up already?"

Nervousness fluttered in her chest. "Where are you headed?"

"The outer districts. Need to inspect reconstruction progress personally, assess what additional resources are required." His voice was steady, emperor speaking rather than man. "Should be back by evening."

Eris made decision in heartbeat. "I’m coming with you."

"Eris, you’re still recovering... "

"I’m fine." She cut him off, moving closer. "And if I’m going to convince Nevarians I’m not a tyrant or the reason hell was unleashed on them, I might as well start by showing my face. By helping rebuild what was destroyed."

Soren looked like he wanted to argue, mouth opening to list objections... her exhaustion, the political risk, the citizens who might react badly to seeing her.

But Eris proved stubborn, chin lifting in expression he’d learned meant immovable determination.

He sighed, defeated. "Fine. But we do this carefully. You stay close to me and the guards at all times."

Contrary to what she expected... Soren making them share a horse, finding excuse for proximity... he ordered his men to bring out her mare instead.

"Solara!"

The horse neighed excitedly at sight of her mistress, prancing in place while stable hands struggled to hold her. Eris felt genuine smile cross her face as she approached, running hands over familiar neck, breathing in scent of horse and leather and something that reminded her of home.

Solara nuzzled into her palm, clearly delighted to see Eris after days of being stabled with strangers.

They departed together... Soren on his massive warhorse, Eris on her smaller but no less spirited mare, guards flanking them in protective formation that suggested this wasn’t pleasure ride but calculated risk.

The outer districts made her chest tighten.

Destruction stretched in every direction... buildings reduced to skeletal frames, streets torn up where demons had raged, ash piles marking where people had died screaming.

Workers swarmed like ants, clearing rubble, sorting salvageable materials from complete loss, erecting temporary shelters against winter cold that wouldn’t wait for proper reconstruction.

Eris felt weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders like physical thing. Even though demons weren’t directly her doing, even though Vetra had orchestrated everything, it still felt like her fault. Her presence had brought this. Her existence had made her weapon Vetra couldn’t resist using.

Worse were the looks.

Citizens stopped working to stare as she rode past. Some with open fear, backing away as though fire magic might leap from her hands unprompted. Others with hatred barely disguised, expressions that said they blamed her for everything... the attack, the deaths, the destroyed homes and shattered lives.

It reminded her viscerally of Solmire. Of subjects who’d looked at their queen with fear and hatred all at once, who’d whispered prayers that Pyronox would finally claim his vessel and free them from tyranny.

Once again she was reminded that everyone had always looked at her like this, for as long as she could remember. Monster. Threat. Something to be feared rather than loved.

The realization made her heart hurt in ways she couldn’t name.

Was there anyone who’d never looked at her that way?