The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 331: Lucky

Eris went a deep, furious crimson. She shoved the glass away, but the damage was already done. The heat was rising, a slow, inevitable tide that made her pulse thrum in places she didn’t want to acknowledge.

"The nightwear," Kristina commanded, signaling the others.

They brought forward a garment that made Eris’s eyes widen in disbelief. It was a slip of ice-silver silk, trimmed with lace so fine it looked like hoarfrost.

The straps were mere threads, the neckline plunging nearly to her waist, and the hem barely grazed the tops of her thighs. It was semi-sheer, a suggestion of a dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Over it, they draped a robe of sheer ice-blue fabric, trimmed at the sleeves and hem with fur as soft as a cloud. It tied at the waist with a single, fragile ribbon of silk.

"You expect me to wear that?" Eris asked, her voice trembling with a mix of indignation and the growing, drug-induced heat in her veins.

"To ready yourself for the Emperor, Your Majesty," Kristina replied firmly.

There were no other options. Her traveling clothes were gone, her ceremonial gowns whisked away for cleaning. With a jaw set in a line of pure defiance, Eris allowed them to dress her.

As the silk slid over her skin, the tingling intensified. Every movement, every friction of the fabric against her breasts or her hips, sent a jolt of electricity through her. The heat was becoming uncomfortable, a restless, heavy yearning that made her want to pace the room.

"Is there anything else you require?" Kristina asked, her eyes scanning the room to ensure every candle was perfectly placed.

"No," Eris snapped, her breath coming in shorter, shallower bursts. "Thank you. You may go."

The attendants bowed and slipped out, the heavy silver-chased doors clicking shut with a finality that felt like a trap.

Finally, she was alone.

Eris stood in the center of the room, her reflection shimmering in the shallow water at her feet. She felt like a bird in a cage of her own making.

The scent of the candles was cloying now, and the heat in her blood was a physical weight she couldn’t shake. She needed air. She needed the bite of the North to kill the fire the wine had started.

She turned toward the floor-to-ceiling arched windows. Beyond the glass, the moon hung like a silver blade over the jagged peaks of the mountains.

She walked over, the water rippling softly around her ankles, and pushed the doors open.

Eris pushed through the arched glass doors, and the breath she had been holding died in her throat.

The transition from the humid, drug-laden air of the bedchamber to the balcony was a physical shock, but not for the reason she expected.

Her jaw dropped, the cold air hitting her lungs as she stepped into a landscape that made "breathtaking" feel like a staggering understatement.

This was the highest point of the Winter Palace, a silver-carved overlook that felt less like a balcony and more like a platform suspended in the center of the cosmos.

The view was magnificent. Surrounding the palace like a phalanx of frozen giants, the snow-capped mountain peaks glowed with an ethereal, inner light under the full moon.

In the valleys between them, deep shadows pooled like spilled ink, while far below, the lights of Nevareth twinkled like a fallen constellation.

She could see the faint glow from the windows of thousands of homes, the people of her new empire celebrating in the warmth of their own hearths.

Above her, the sky was vast and endless, the stars more brilliant and numerous than any she had ever seen in the hazy, warm nights of the South.

Then, the sky began to move.

Great ribbons of light began to dance across the heavens, swirls of neon green, deep purple, and shimmering silver that moved like living things through the dark.

The Aurora Borealis was in full, violent display, the natural magic of the North amplified by the residual energy of the day’s rituals.

It looked as if the celebration of the union had reached the very heavens themselves, the lights pulsing in time with the silent rhythm of the world.

Eris stood breathless, her fingers gripping the icy stone railing, unable to look away from the celestial enchantment.

Movement in the corner of her vision drew her eye away from the sky. Nestled against the sheltered inner wall of the balcony was a small, impossible garden.

Eris froze. She moved toward the greenery, her bare feet silent on the cold stone. As she drew closer, she recognized the blooms immediately, Solmire lotuses and sun-ferns, native to her distant homeland and identical to the ones she had spent years tending in her father’s palace. Here, in the heart of a frozen empire, they were thriving.

She saw the incredible care taken to keep them alive in such a hostile climate. They were nestled in elaborate, heated soil beds and protected by thin, magically reinforced glass enclosures that trapped the warmth.

Warming charms, etched in subtle silver runes along the base of the beds, hummed with a soft, steady power. It was a masterpiece of horticultural magic, all designed to preserve a piece of her history for her.

Thinking of the effort required, Eris felt her throat tighten with a sudden, sharp emotion. Soren had done this. He had remembered the specific flowers from her gardens in Solmire. He had brought her home to her, even while she was thousands of miles away.

She knelt down, her silver silk robes pooling around her as she touched a petal through a small opening in the glass. It was soft and warm, a direct contrast to the biting wind on her back.

Eris sat back on her heels, a genuine, soft smile breaking through the mask of the Empress. Despite the complications of their politics, the chaos of the night, and the drug still humming in her blood, she felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of gratitude.

"I must be very lucky," she whispered to the empty air, her heart feeling warmer than it had all day.