The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 142: Priorities

‎Soren had barely crossed the threshold into the residence when Ryse’s hand closed on his arm.

‎

‎It wasn’t a rough gesture, just insistent. The grip of someone who had earned the right to physically redirect his Emperor when necessary, and who knew Soren would allow it because they had been through far worse than awkward conversations.

‎

‎"A word your majesty."

‎

‎Soren glanced back at Eris, who was already being swept away by what looked like half the female staff. They fussed over her, leading her toward her chambers. She looked vaguely overwhelmed by the attention but was allowing it, which meant she was more exhausted than she would ever admit.

‎

‎ Good. She needed the rest.

‎

‎He turned back to Ryse. "Walk with me."

‎

‎They moved away from the main building, toward the command post where maps, reports, and all the logistics of managing an imperial procession lived... far enough from curious ears that they could speak freely.

‎

‎Ryse didn’t waste time.

‎

‎"Your hair is longer."

‎

‎Soren’s hand went to his hair reflexively, touching the strands that had grown past his shoulders during whatever had happened at the river. It was evidence of power accessed, of transformation triggered, of magic channeled beyond normal limits.

‎

‎"I plan to cut it," he said.

‎

‎Ryse’s expression didn’t change, but calculation flickered behind his eyes. Recognition.

"I’ve only seen his hair grow like that once. When he unlocked something he shouldn’t have been able to access. When his power went beyond what any ice-wielder should possess." He thought to himself.

‎

‎But he didn’t ask. He wouldn’t. Whatever curiosity burned in him was outweighed by respect, by the understanding that some things the Emperor chose not to explain were better left unquestioned.

It meant something significant had happened. Something divine, probably, given the pattern he had observed before. That was enough information; the details could stay with Soren.

‎

‎"Report," Soren said, redirecting to safer territory.

‎

‎Ryse shifted into briefing mode immediately. Professional. Efficient. The voice of someone who’d been doing this for years and could deliver critical information in under two minutes without missing relevant details.

‎

‎"Procession intact. No losses. Everyone accounted for, including the maid who stowed away." A slight pause. "She’s been useful, actually. Kept morale up."

‎

‎"Good."

‎

‎"Nobles are restless. They’ve been waiting for days with no timeline. Complaints about accommodations, about the delay, about not knowing when we’d resume travel." His tone suggested he’d handled it but hadn’t enjoyed the experience.

‎

‎It was expected. Nobles always complained when things didn’t go according to their preferred schedule.

‎

‎"They’ll survive."

‎

‎"Supplies are adequate for the week-long journey to the Frozen Court. Lord Whitlock has been generous with provisions. We’re well-stocked."

‎

‎Soren nodded, making a mental note to send appropriate thanks.

‎

‎Ryse continued. "Security is the primary concern. Anakai activity has increased significantly along our planned route."

‎

‎That got Soren’s full attention.

‎

Just like Solmire had their fire-beasts, they also had ice-beasts. Native to Nevareth. Usually manageable, unless something stirred them up.

‎

‎"Increased how?"

‎

‎"Sightings have tripled in the past week." Ryse pulled out a map, marked with locations. "Drogar—the ice bears—tracks near the mountain passes. Fresh. Multiple individuals. A Vargra Wolf pack moving through territories they don’t usually occupy. Possible hybrid Stryvaals sighting near the Winter Plains border, though that’s unconfirmed."

‎

‎He pointed to the marked areas.

‎

‎Soren studied the map and saw immediately what concerned his commander. The activity wasn’t random. The beasts were moving, responding to something that had shifted. Just like he predicted.

‎

‎"When did this start?" he asked.

‎

‎"About four days ago."

‎

‎Four days. Right around when Eris had screamed in that temple. When Pyronox had woken and announced to every creature with magical sensitivity that something fundamental had changed. The effects weren’t limited to Solmire’s borders. Magic didn’t respect human boundaries.

‎

‎"Route adjustments?" Soren asked.

‎

‎"Already implemented. We’re avoiding known danger zones. Staying to main roads where possible. Doubled the scout rotation."

‎

‎"Good. Double them again. I want forward scouts at least ten miles ahead at all times. Rear guard reinforced. Reports every four hours on Anakai movements within fifty miles of our position."

‎

‎"Understood."

‎

‎Ryse’s expression went carefully neutral. The kind of neutral that meant bad news delivered with professional detachment.

‎

‎"One of her people would have sent word via frost-hawk the moment we arrived." He paused.

‎Frost-hawks, the messenger birds that thrived in cold that would kill normal ravens. White as fresh snow, fast as wind, capable of covering in two to three days what would take a rider a week. They were efficient, reliable, and annoyingly impossible to intercept without leaving obvious evidence.

‎

‎Ryse chose his words carefully. "Her messenger would have reported your absence. That you’d taken a detour.

‎

‎She doesn’t know we’ve rejoined the procession yet," Soren observed.

‎

‎"No, Your Majesty. But another message is being probably being prepared now. Should reach the Frozen Court in two days."

‎

‎Meaning Vetra was currently operating on incomplete information. Probably imagining worst-case scenarios. Definitely planning how to handle whatever situation she thought was developing. She would be furious when she learned the full truth, would interpret the union as rebellion, as Soren making decisions without consulting her, as choosing a foreign bride to be over her carefully laid plans.

‎

‎Ryse’s unease was visible now. Subtle, but there. The tension in his shoulders. The way his gaze wouldn’t quite meet Soren’s. He was anticipating the confrontation that waited at the end of this journey..

‎

‎Soren felt nothing. No anxiety. No concern. Just mild irritation that he’d have to deal with it.

‎

‎"She’ll deal with it," he said, his tone flat and final.

‎

‎Ryse blinked. "Your Majesty—"

‎

‎"Vetra’s opinions on my choice of bride are irrelevant. I’ve made my decision. She can accept it or not. Either way, Eris will be accepted as the future Empress by everyone, including my stepmother."

‎

‎"Logistics for departure. We leave at dawn. I want everything ready."

‎

‎Ryse straightened.

‎

‎"Double the scouts on our route," Soren continued, rapid-fire. "I want reports on every Anakai sighting within fifty miles. If something threatens this procession, I want to know about it before it becomes a problem."

‎

‎"Yes, Your Majesty."

‎

‎"Eris’s quarters." Soren continued without pause. "They need to be perfect. Warm baths. Good food. Proper rest. If anything is insufficient, fix it immediately."

‎

‎"Already handled. Lord Whitlock—"

‎

‎"I don’t care if it’s handled. I want it perfect." Each word was deliberate, weighted. "She’s been sleeping uncomfortably for four days while recovering from nearly dying. She deserves better than ’adequate.’"

‎

‎Ryse’s expression did something complicated. Realization. Understanding. Maybe a hint of amusement he was smart enough to suppress before it became visible.

‎

‎"Of course, Your Majesty. I’ll personally ensure everything meets your standards."

‎

‎

‎"See that you do." Soren turned toward the door. "We leave at dawn. I want everyone ready. No delays. No excuses."

‎

‎"Understood."

‎

‎"Anything else?" Soren asked.

‎

‎"Lord Venrick has been particularly vocal about the delay. Demanding explanations."

‎

‎"He can demand all he wants. He’ll get an explanation when I decide to give him one."

‎

‎"He’s threatened to file a formal complaint with the High Council."

‎

‎"Tell him to go ahead. I’m sure they’ll be very interested in hearing why he thinks questioning my decisions is appropriate."

‎

‎

‎Ryse nodded at the emperor’s words. His expression that suggested he was having thoughts about all of this.

‎

‎"Say it," Soren offered.

‎

‎"Say what, Your Majesty?"

‎

‎"Whatever you’re thinking. You have that look."

‎

‎Ryse’s mouth twitched. It was almost a smile, but it was quickly suppressed.

‎

‎"Just noting that your priorities have shifted." He said it diplomatically, carefully. "The queen’s comfort seems to rank above most other concerns."

‎

‎"Your point?"

‎

‎"No point. Just an observation." A pause. "You have it bad, Your Majesty."

‎

‎Soren smiled. It wasn’t the diplomatic one he used in court, nor the cold one he used with enemies. It was the genuine one that appeared when someone said something true enough to be acknowledged.

‎

‎"I know."

‎

‎Ryse’s eyebrows rose, surprised he’d admitted it.

‎

‎"Does she?"

‎

‎"She’s pretending she doesn’t." Soren shrugged. "But she will eventually."

‎

‎"And if Vetra tries to separate you?"

‎

‎Soren’s expression went cold. The temperature in the room actually dropped. Frost formed on the windows—the kind of response that happened when his magic reacted to emotion before conscious thought could regulate it.

‎

‎

‎"Then Vetra will learn very quickly that I’m not the boy she raised anymore." His voice stayed level, pleasant even. "And that some battles aren’t worth fighting."

‎

‎Ryse held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded once. Sharp. An acknowledgment. He understood exactly what Soren meant and what lines had just been drawn.

‎

‎"Understood, Your Majesty."

‎

‎"Good." Soren turned back toward the door. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a fire queen to check on."

‎

‎"Of course." Ryse’s tone suggested he was suppressing commentary. "I’m sure checking on her comfort requires your personal attention."

‎

‎"It does."

‎

‎"And has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve barely let her out of your sight since returning."

‎

‎"Purely professional concern."

‎

‎"Of course, Your Majesty."

‎

‎And Ryse?" Soren paused. "Thank you. For managing this while I was gone."

‎

‎Something shifted in Ryse’s expression, softening slightly.

‎

‎"Of course, Your Majesty."

‎

‎Soren left before Ryse could add more observations that were entirely too accurate for his comfort.

‎

‎But he heard him mutter as the door closed:

‎

‎"We’re all doomed."

‎

‎Probably.

‎

‎But if he was going to be doomed, at least it would be entertaining.