CHAPTER 29: RIGHTEOUS HALF

ERIS

I watched Soren walk out, the faint echo of his words still clinging to the air. You’re a mean woman. He had said it with a smile, but it hadn’t felt like one. There had been something sad in his eyes, and it unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

I leaned back against the pillows. My body ached as though it had been torn apart and stitched back together. My throat burned with thirst. The last thing I remembered was the tent, everything going white, muffled screams, and someone... someone calling my name. Then nothing.

If Soren’s face had looked like that, and Ophelia was fussing over me like this, then I knew. I must have lost control.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse. "How was I stopped?"

Ophelia hesitated. I saw the flicker in her eyes before she spoke. "It was Soren. He... " she bit the words short. "He saved us. He stopped your fire. He... carried... " She stopped again, pressing her lips together.

"Carried?" I echoed, and she flushed faintly, shaking her head.

"Nothing. You needn’t worry yourself with details."

The door opened then, sparing her further explanation. Maids shuffled in with trays of water, fruit, and cool cloths. "The Emperor told us you woke, Your Majesty," one said nervously. "He thought you might be thirsty."

I didn’t answer. My eyes followed the pitchers instead.

Ophelia smoothed her skirt. "You need to rest. I’ll inform Caelen that you’re awake and unharmed."

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "What use is that? I’ve been invisible to him for years."

Silence fell sharp between us. She said nothing, only lowered her gaze. I waved my hand dismissively. "You may go."

She bowed, stiff, and hurried out. I dismissed the maids too, ignoring their timid protests. At last, I was alone.

Alone, with the weight of what I’d done. What I’d become.

Too soon.

In the story written, the one I’d lived for goodness-knows-how many times, the ambushes were nothing new. They’d happened before, in my first life.

Infact the very first was led by Caelen himself. But every time, the killings had been deliberate. A fit of rage, a command for fear, or amusement at their screams.

Never... this. Never fire that broke loose without my will. That made my skin crawl. Not until the very end.

It meant only one thing.

Perhaps my time was closer than I imagined.

Still...

The weight of my own destruction weighed even heavier.

The Council would murmur, of course. They always did. But they could not touch me without my own authority. I had been untouchable for years. Untouchable... and yet, I knew Caelen. He would still try to use this, still try to bind me, to force the Council to pass judgment, no matter how futile. He thrived on being the righteous half of our marriage.

It only steeled my decision. I would leave. No matter where. No matter how. Disguise, exile, or solitude... it didn’t matter. As long as I had myself. As long as I was no longer the puppet on some bored writer’s page.

I pushed myself up, every muscle screaming, and reached for the jug of water. My hand shook. I lifted it to my lips and drank until it was gone, until my chest heaved with relief.

Then my mind drifted back to him.

Soren.

He had called me mean. Smiled as he said it, with eyes that looked anything but glad. And Ophelia’s words... he had been the one to stop me. Maybe even carried me too even though I wasn’t sure.

But still,

The first thing I had done was question his presence.

I thought of the market. Of him dragging me through the crowd for skewers too spicy for his tongue. Of the gem I’d bought that had his eyes in its shine.

I looked at my palm, half-expecting the stone to still be there. But of course, it was gone. Lost in the fire, like everything else.

Not that it mattered.

At least, that was what I told myself.

Many hours later...

The council chamber smelled of ink, sweat, and smoke when I entered. The long table was already crowded with dukes, marquises, elders... every one of them speaking over the other about repairs, funds, the approaching Pyrosanct. Their voices dropped the moment my steps echoed across the floor.

They rose. One by one, they bowed their heads.

"Your Majesty," they greeted me, uneven but obedient.

All except Caelen. He sat stiff in his chair, hand still clutching the quill he had been scribbling with, as if I hadn’t walked in at all.

I let the silence stretch before I crossed to my seat. The throne of fire-iron stood waiting for me, and when I sat, the weight of the hall shifted. It always did.

"Tell me," I said. My voice cut through them easily. "What has been decided?"

An old marquis with ink-stained fingers cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, the damage from last night was vast. Three streets reduced to ash. Witnesses claim the fire began without provocation... "

"Witnesses," I repeated, resting my chin on my hand. "And what exactly did they say?"

The marquis faltered but continued. "They claim the Queen herself summoned flames upon them. That it was... punishment. Wrath of the divine."

Murmurs rippled. I felt their eyes on me, weighing, waiting. I did not bother to deny it. Denial would only feed them.

"Noted," I said. "Continue."

A duke leaned forward, his rings clinking against the wood. "Merchants will not return to the market in time for Pyrosanct unless relief is immediate. We have already pulled temple stores, but it will not be enough."

"Divert more," I said at once. "Triple the aid. The streets must be cleared, stalls rebuilt. Pyrosanct will not be shadowed by ruin."

Pens scratched. Nods followed. Order was returning with each word I gave them, as it always did.

Until Caelen spoke.

"Ruin?" His voice was sharp, deliberate, as if he had been holding it back for this moment. He still didn’t look at me. "You sit there and speak of ruin as if you were not the very cause of it."

The chamber froze. No one moved. No one dared breathe.

I turned my head slowly, studying his profile. His jaw was set like stone, his quill splintering between his fingers.

"My lord husband," I said at last, letting the mask curve my lips into something cold, "do enlighten us. What would you have me say instead?"