The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 303: Whispers at the ears of the King

The halls of the Ice Palace in Nevareth were not like the sun-drenched corridors of Solmire. Here, the light didn’t dance; it fractured.

It broke against the sapphire-veined marble and the pillars of eternal frost, casting long, sharp shadows that seemed to follow a man like silent accusations.

Caelen walked with the heavy, rhythmic step of a king who felt like a trespasser. He had arrived late... perpetually late, it seemed... to a wedding that felt like a funeral for the life he had once known.

Every breath he drew in this place tasted of mountain air and ancient magic, a crispness that should have been refreshing but instead felt like needles in his lungs.

As he moved toward the guest chambers, the servants and minor nobles of Nevareth bowed. It was the shallow, practiced respect given to a visiting monarch, yet beneath the surface of their courtesy, Caelen caught the ripples of something else.

Rumors. They drifted through the air like the fine, glittering "diamond dust" of the north, cold and stinging.

‎"... Duke Cassius, murdered in his own study... "

‎"... Lady Eris was seen with him before... "

‎

‎"... that fire witch, bringing death wherever she goes... "

‎

‎"... the Emperor should reconsider... "

‎

‎Not everyone who spoke her name did so with venom. Some voices carried respect, even gratitude. But enough hostility threaded through the gossip to make Caelen’s jaw tighten.

‎

‎What had happened here? What had Eris walked into?

‎

‎He wanted to stop someone, demand explanations, understand the full scope of the chaos his... of the former queen had been navigating.

‎

‎But he was a guest. A foreign dignitary. He had no right to palace business that didn’t concern him.

‎

‎Even if everything about Eris concerned him whether he had the right or not.

‎

Eris. Always Eris. Even here, at the literal edge of the world, she was the storm at the center of the palace.

The mention of Cassius’s death... a man he had known only as a name on a diplomatic scroll... sent a flicker of unease through him.

He knew Eris’s fire; he knew the way it could turn from a comforting hearth to a world-ending blaze in the heartbeat of a grievance. But to hear her name spoken with such curdled dread made his pulse quicken.

He turned a corner, pushing the rumors Into the back of his mind as he reached the heavy oak doors of the guest wing.

Inside, the chambers were lavishly draped in Solmire silks, a desperate attempt by the palace staff to make the desert-born royals feel at home.

Ophelia was seated by the window, the pale northern light washing the color from her face, making her look fragile... like a piece of fine porcelain left out in the cold.

Rael didn’t wait for a greeting. The moment the door creaked, the boy was a blur of motion, his small boots thudding against the thick rugs as he threw himself at Caelen’s knees.

"Father!"

Caelen exhaled, the tension in his shoulders dropping an inch as he scooped the boy up. Rael smelled of the sun, a scent that didn’t belong in Nevareth.

"There’s my brave knight," Caelen murmured, ruffling the boy’s hair before looking toward Ophelia. "How are you? The journey... the cold... it’s a lot to bear."

Ophelia offered a small, weary smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Her hand rested protectively over her stomach, where his second child was growing.

"I feel a little tired, Caelen. The air here... it’s so thin. It feels like it’s trying to steal the warmth right out of my skin."

"You should rest," Caelen said, his voice softening with a guilt he couldn’t quite name. "Sleep for an hour or two before dinner. I’ll keep Rael occupied."

He moved to set the boy down, but Rael clung to his tunic, his small face suddenly clouded with a seriousness that didn’t belong on a five-year-old.

The room, which had been filled with the domestic sounds of rustling silk and heavy breathing, suddenly went very still.

"Father," Rael whispered, his voice trembling. "I saw Mother today."

Caelen froze. The name... Mother... always felt like a physical blow when it came from Rael’s lips. It was a title that belonged to Eris by blood and Ophelia by choice, a fractured word that represented the broken geometry of their lives.

"You saw her?" Caelen asked, his heart squeezing. He hadn’t been able to speak to her yet; every time he tried, the Ice Emperor or a wall of guards seemed to manifest out of the frost.

Rael nodded, his bottom lip wobbling. "She looked... she looked angry with me. She didn’t say anything. She just looked."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Caelen felt the familiar, gnawing ache of regret. He had brought this child into a world of fractured loyalties, and now Rael was the one paying the price in confusion.

Ophelia chipped in from her chair, her voice soft but carrying a sharp edge of resentment. "Eris didn’t seem pleased to see us here, Caelen. Not even her own son. It’s as if she’s already forgotten Solmire exists. Or perhaps she just finds our presence... inconvenient."

Caelen forced a nervous laugh, a hollow sound that bounced off the stone walls. He ruffled Rael’s hair again, trying to smooth away the boy’s frown. "Of course not! Don’t be silly, Rael. Your mother isn’t angry with you. Never with you."

"Then why did she look like that?" Rael asked.

"She’s just tired from work," Caelen lied, the words tasting like ash. "She has a whole new empire to worry about now. It’s a lot of reading and meetings. It makes people’s faces go stiff." He looked at Ophelia, nodding toward the bed. "I’ll be back. I’m going to take him for a walk... maybe we can catch her before the evening banquet begins."

He led Rael out into the corridor, hoping the movement would shake the ghosts from the boy’s mind. But as they walked, the vastness of the Ice Palace seemed to swallow them. The ceilings were so high they were lost in shadow, and the floor was so polished it felt like walking on a frozen lake.

"Rael," Caelen asked softly, "why do you really think she’s angry?"