The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 172: The Blessing Ceremony

ERIS

Finally. Finally.

The endless feast was over, and I was absolutely certain that if one more noble approached me with carefully calculated congratulations or thinly veiled threats disguised as concern, I would forget every lesson in restraint I’d ever learned and set something... or someone... spectacularly on fire.

My face ached from maintaining that serene, composed expression for hours. My ribs felt like they were being crushed by steel bands masquerading as a corset. And my patience, which had never been particularly abundant to begin with, had been stretched so thin it was practically transparent.

Behind me, Soren’s presence radiated warmth and satisfaction. I didn’t need to look at him to know he was grinning like a man who’d just won every strategic objective he’d set for the evening.

"Stop grinning," I said without turning around.

"I’m not grinning."

"I can feel you grinning."

"That’s not grinning," he replied, his tone suggesting he was absolutely lying. "That’s just my face."

"Your face is annoying."

He laughed... low and rich and entirely too pleased with himself... and I wanted to set something on fire just to release the tension coiled in my chest like a spring wound too tight.

We reached my chambers, Soren let himself in, and I turned to dismiss him with whatever remained of my shredded dignity.

Before I could speak, someone knocked.

The doors swung open, and a procession of priests filed into my chambers as though they had every right to be there. Led by High Priestess Serah herself, her ancient face showing no awareness that arriving unannounced in a woman’s private chambers might be considered rude.

Oh gods.

"The Blessing Ceremony," Serah announced, as though this were perfectly normal, as though invading someone’s space to perform religious rites was simply standard protocol. "To sanctify the intended bride’s entry into the empire. To prepare the union. To invoke divine favor upon..."

She paused, her ancient eyes finding mine with the kind of knowing that suggested she was fully aware of how mortifying this was about to be.

"...your fertility and the heirs you will provide."

My face went hot. Actually, genuinely hot, which for someone who ran at perpetually elevated temperatures was saying something significant.

Behind me, Soren made a choking sound that might have been a cough but was definitely a laugh.

I turned to glare at him, but he’d already schooled his expression into something approximating respectful attention, though his eyes were dancing with barely suppressed amusement.

"This is traditional," Serah continued, gesturing for the other priests to begin their preparations. "All intended empresses undergo the blessing before their wedding ceremony. It ensures divine approval and... encourages fruitful union."

One of the younger priests began burning herbs in a brass censer, and the smell that filled my chambers was absolutely awful, like someone had combined rotting vegetation with incense and decided the result was holy.

I was going to murder someone. Multiple someones. Starting with whoever decided this tradition needed to exist.

Serah approached me with a small vial of what appeared to be water, though it shimmered with that distinctive quality that suggested ice magic had been involved in its creation.

"Blessed water from the temple of Aneithra," she explained, uncorking the vial. "Please kneel."

I knelt, because refusing would create exactly the kind of scene Vetra would love to weaponize, and Serah anointed my forehead with the ice-cold water.

I flinched. Couldn’t help it. The sensation of something that cold against my perpetually warm skin was jarring, uncomfortable, like touching snow with bare hands after hours near a fire.

The priests began chanting in Old Nevareth, the language predating current dialects, used only for the most sacred ceremonies. Their voices rose and fell in harmony that would have been beautiful if I weren’t dying of embarrassment.

Serah gestured for Soren to join us, and he moved forward with perfect composure, kneeling beside me as though this were completely normal, as though having priests chant about fertility while we knelt together wasn’t the most mortifying thing that had happened all evening.

And considering the evening we’d had, that was saying something.

Serah produced a length of silver cord, impossibly fine, and took my hand. Then Soren’s. She bound them together, the cord wrapping around our wrists with practiced precision while chanting words I only half understood.

Something about fire and ice joining. About bloodlines merging. About the empire’s future being written in the children we would produce.

My face was absolutely burning now. I could feel Soren’s barely controlled amusement radiating off him like heat from a forge.

The chanting intensified, multiple voices layering over each other in harmonies that echoed off my chamber walls. And then Serah’s voice rose above the others, clear and resonant despite her age:

"May her womb be fertile as spring’s first thaw. May her body welcome his seed as frozen earth welcomes rain. May their union produce heirs strong in magic and spirit, blessed by both flame and frost."

I nearly set the carpet on fire.

Actual flames licked at the edges of the woven fabric beneath my knees before I got control of myself, forcing the magic back down, refusing to give Soren the satisfaction of knowing exactly how mortified I was.

Beside me, his shoulders were shaking.

The bastard was trying not to laugh.

Finally... finally... after what felt like approximately seven years but was probably closer to fifteen minutes, Serah unwound the cord and declared the blessing complete. The priests filed out with the same solemn dignity they’d entered with, apparently unaware that they’d just subjected me to the most embarrassing experience of my considerably eventful life.

The moment the door closed behind them, I stood, whirled on Soren, and slammed my palm against his chest hard enough that he took a step back.

"If you say one word," I hissed, "one single word about what just happened, I will ensure you spend our wedding night in the infirmary."

He didn’t say anything.

He just grinned at me with that insufferable expression that suggested he was filing away every mortifying second for future teasing.

"I am going to murder someone," I announced to the room at large.

"That was delightful," Soren said, leaning against the wall with the kind of relaxed posture that suggested he’d enjoyed every excruciating moment.