The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 306: The Emperor’s priority.

"The Lady Eris is my priority,"

Soren said, his voice losing its warmth and regaining its edge of absolute authority. He offered no further explanation, his hand moving to the small of Eris’s back.

Caelen stood as well, his eyes searching Eris’s face with a desperate, lingering hope.

"Eris... before you go. You could see Rael. He’s in the nursery just down the hall. He’s asleep, but... you could see him. Just for a moment."

Eris froze. The image of the five-year-old’s facebflashed in her mind. The ache in her chest was a familiar, hollow thing.

She wanted to go to him, to stroke his hair and whisper apologies into the dark, but the weight of her own failures as a mother felt like a physical barrier.

To see him only while he was unconscious was a mercy she wasn’t sure she deserved.

"Not tonight, Caelen," she said, her voice tight. "Let him rest."

She turned and walked away, Soren a silent, protective shadow at her side. Caelen remained standing, staring after her long after the doors had closed.

He looked defeated, a king who had realized that his crown was too heavy and his hands too empty.

Beside him, Ophelia gripped her silver fork so tightly her knuckles turned white. She had seen the way Caelen looked at Eris. She always saw.

The corridors of the Ice Palace were silent, the only sound the rhythmic tap of their footsteps on the stone.

"You didn’t have to excuse yourself as well," Eris said quietly, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. "They are your friends."

Soren stopped walking. He turned to her, the moonlight from the high windows turning his hair to spun silver.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, just looked at her with a terrifyingly soft intensity. Then, a small, genuine smile touched his lips.

"I’ve grown to lack interest any thing that doesn’t involve you, Eris," he said.

The words were a direct hit. The butterflies in Eris’s stomach didn’t just flutter; they roared. For a heartbeat, she wanted to lean into him, to let the cold of his body soothe the frantic heat of her heart.

No, she thought, ruthlessly squashing the feeling. He is an Emperor. He is kind. He is protective. But he does not love you. Not the way you fear. You are a partner, a political necessity, a shared burden.

She forced herself to create physical distance, stepping back toward the shadows. "It’s already late, I’ll see you tomorrow."

"Want to go for a little walk?" he asked, his tone hopeful, almost playful. "The aurora is out over the north balcony. It’s... quiet there."

"I’m tired," Eris said, her voice flat. She turned and began walking toward her chambers with renewed purpose, leaving him standing in the center of the hall.

Soren watched her go, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before his mask of ice slid back into place.

Much later, the Emperor’s private study was a tomb of shadows and half-finished scrolls. Soren sat behind his desk, a glass of untouched wine at his elbow. He felt worse than he had in days.

He knew Eris had turned Caelen down... he had seen the way she avoided the King of Solmire with a surgical precision. But her avoidance of him tonight felt different. It felt like a wall being built brick by brick, right as he thought he had finally found a door.

Is it because of Caelen? he wondered, his fist clenching. Does the sight of him remind her of everything I can never give her? The distance was driving him toward a madness his magic couldn’t freeze.

A soft knock at the door broke his spiral.

"Enter," Soren barked.

Aldric stepped in, looking remarkably unbothered by the late hour. "Your Majesty. I have the updated reports on Archon Duke Viktor."

"Not now, Aldric," Soren sighed, rubbing his temples.

"He’s been moving funds through the western ports," Aldric continued, ignoring the dismissal. "Illegal salt trades, suspicious connections to the southern rebels. Quite a busy man, the Duke."

"Fine. Put it on the desk," Soren said, his mind clearly a thousand leagues away.

Aldric paused, his sharp eyes taking in the Emperor’s slumped shoulders. "And regarding Sir Ryse’s status..."

Soren looked up, a glimmer of interest returning. "How is he?"

"He spent the day with the girl, Mira. While she recovers. He only resumed his duties an hour ago."

Aldric adjusted his spectacles. "I observed them through the glass for a moment. Ryse seems to have gotten... particularly close with her."

Soren managed a dry chuckle. "That wouldn’t be too surprising. Ryse has always had a soft spot for those who survive the impossible."

Aldric let out a long, dramatic sigh. "I can’t tell if Ryse is being a noble knight or if he’s simply being Ryse. It’s exhausting to monitor."

"Tell Ryse he can have the rest of the night off," Soren ordered. "And tomorrow too. He’s earned it."

Aldric’s jaw dropped. "Tch! And when do I get a day off, Your Majesty? I am the one who had to coordinate a three-way royal dinner while ensuring no one poisoned the soup."

Soren looked at his steward with a weary, defeated expression. "I’ve given you breaks multiple times in the past, Aldric."

"It is not the same if I am still answering your ’quick questions’ during my free time," Aldric countered, crossing his arms.

"Fine," Soren groaned. "I’ll grant you time off later. After the wedding. A week. Two. Just... leave the reports and go."

"You better not go back on that," Aldric muttered, bowing with a flourish before disappearing into the hall.

Silence reclaimed the room.

Across the palace, Eris was having no more luck with sleep than her groom. She tossed and turned, the silk sheets feeling like sandpaper against her skin.

She kept replaying the walk in the corridor... the look in Soren’s eyes when he offered her the walk, and the way his expression had fractured when she turned him down.

She regretted it. The realization sat in her chest like a stone. She had wanted to see the aurora with him. She had wanted to hear his voice without the audience of her ex-husband and his new family. But fear... the old, bitter fear of being the "second choice" or the "villainess"... had won.

She stared at the ceiling as the first faint grey of dawn began to bleed through the frost on the windows.

The wedding eve had arrived.

Tomorrow, she would stand before the gods of fire and ice and bind herself to the man she was currently avoiding.

One day left.

One day to find her courage, or to let the frost consume them both.