The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 362: First Decree

The sitting room, once a sanctuary of soft furs and quiet mornings, had effectively become Eris’s war room. Sunlight was a myth outside the frosted windowpanes, leaving the room to the flickering amber mercy of the hearth. Eris sat straight-backed at the mahogany bureau, her robe spilling over the chair as she massaged the bridge of her nose.

A crisp knock disturbed the silence. Aldric entered, his movements precise and stiff as starched linen. Behind him trailed an Imperial Scribe... a man who looked as though he were made of parchment and ink... and a single sworn guard who stood at the threshold like a stone gargoyle.

"Your Majesty," Aldric said, bowing low. "The pardon decree for Duchess Maren, as requested."

Eris took the heavy parchment. The ink was barely dry, the scent of it sharp against the smell of burning cedar. She read it slowly, her eyes tracking every loop and serif.

The language was formal and devoid of sentiment: it cited evidence of magical coercion, declared Maren’s absolute innocence in the death of Duke Cassius, and ordered her immediate release with full restoration of her titles and estates.

"This is acceptable," Eris said.

She did not rush the signature. To rush was to look uncertain, and Eris felt the weight of the crown settling more firmly on her brow with every passing hour. She didn’t need to justify the move to the council; the logic was sound, the morality even more so. She dipped the quill, the scratch of the nib the only sound in the room as she signed: ERIS NIVARRE, EMPRESS OF NEVARETH.

Then came the seal. It was heavy and bitingly cold in her palm. The design featured a dragon and a phoenix intertwined, a brutal reminder of the union that now governed the north. She pressed it into the dollop of hot, scarlet wax with a sharp, final click.

"It will be delivered to the dungeons immediately, Your Majesty," Aldric said. There was a flicker of something in his eyes... not quite warmth, but a burgeoning respect.

"Ensure the Duchess is treated with respect upon her release," Eris added, her voice steady. "She has been through enough. I want her escorted to her family estates by a guard of honor, not released into the snow like a common thief."

Aldric bowed again, his expression softening by a fraction of a degree. "Of course, Your Majesty."

As they exited, Eris let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It was done. Her first major move as Empress was pardoning a woman accused of high-profile murder. It was a gamble, a splash of red ink on a white landscape, but it was right.

The next hour was a grueling marathon of logistics. Mira joined her, looking uncharacteristically flustered by the sheer volume of "tributes" arriving from the nobility. She was flanked by a girl named Penelope, a new maid with a voice like a twittering bird who seemed to know the lineage and scandals of every noble house in the Five Provinces.

"And this one is from Count Haren," Penelope chirped, holding up a bolt of shimmering silver silk. "He’s known for two things: his excellent weavers and his terrible habit of cheating on his wife, Countess Maxime."

"Mark it," Eris instructed, not looking up from her registries. "And flag any gifts from the southern border lords. I want to know who is still sending letters to Vetra’s old contacts."

They worked through the gift registries, separating the genuine aid from the blatant bribes.

Eris focused heavily on the distribution of funds for families affected by the recent demon attacks, authorizing the release of winter reserves... food, medical supplies, and heating oil... to the outer districts.

She was meticulous, marking any donor tied to Vetra’s inner circle for immediate investigation. Their gifts were to be politely refused and sent back. She would not have her palace lined with the silks of traitors.

"Your Majesty," the guard at the door announced, breaking her concentration. "King Caelen and Prince Rael request an audience."

Eris felt a dull throb behind her eyes. Caelen. Again. "Send them in," she sighed, smoothing her hair.

The door burst open, and Rael was a blur of motion. "MAMA!" he shrieked, launching himself across the room.

He collided with her, scrambling into her lap with the practiced ease of a child who now understood he was loved after thinking so long he was hated. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Eris caught him, laughing as she buried her face in his hair, the scent of woodsmoke and childhood clinging to him.

"Careful, little flame," she murmured, hugging him tight.

Caelen followed at a much slower pace. He walked with a heavy, measured gait, his eyes sweeping the room before landing on Eris. He stopped. His entire body went rigid, the air seemingly sucked out of his lungs.

He was staring at her neck.

Last night, Soren had been anything but subtle. The high collar of her emerald robe had shifted during her work, slipping just enough to reveal a fresh, deep bite mark... a vivid, dark bloom of purple and red that sat high on her jugular. It was a silent, violent shout of ownership. It was fresh. It was unmistakable.

Caelen’s blood ran cold. The sight of it felt like a physical blow to his sternum, a reminder that while he sat in the shadows of his own regret, another man was claiming every inch of the woman he still considered his.

"Mama, Papa said we could visit!" Rael chattered, oblivious to the frost forming in the room. "Can we read? I want the story about the dragon with the frozen heart!"

Eris smiled, her hand stroking Rael’s cheek. "Of course, little flame. We can read whatever you like."

She looked up, her gaze meeting Caelen’s. His face was a mask of carefully constructed neutrality, but his eyes were burning with a mix of grief and suppressed rage. He stood too close, his presence a pressure she didn’t want to accommodate.

"Thank you for bringing him, Your Majesty," Eris said, her voice dropping into a cool, professional register. "I’ll have a guard return him to your chambers when we’re finished."

The dismissal was as sharp as a blade. You can leave now.

Caelen shifted his weight, his eyes flickering back to the mark on her neck. "Perhaps I could stay for the story. Rael enjoys it when I... "

"I’m sure you have matters to attend to," Eris interrupted, her tone firm. She wasn’t asking.

"Eris... " Caelen started, his voice cracking with a desperate need to be heard.

Eris stood up, Rael still balanced on her hip, her height nearly matching Caelen’s now that she wasn’t hunched over her desk. She cut him off with a look of imperial finality.

"Thank you, King Caelen. That will be all."

She was dismissing him like a common servant. Caelen felt the sting of it... the realization that the girl who used to hang on his every word was gone, replaced by an Empress who found his presence a mere inconvenience.

He wanted to argue, to demand she look at him, to scream that Soren was a monster. But he looked at the guards, at the scribe, and at the crown resting on the bureau.

He had no power here.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Caelen said, his jaw tightening so hard it ached. He bowed stiffly and turned, his cape swishing against the floor as he beat a retreat.

The door closed behind him with a heavy, hollow thud.

Eris exhaled, her shoulders dropping as she sank back onto the couch with Rael.

"Are you okay, Mama?" Rael asked, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

Eris forced a genuine smile, kissing his forehead. "I’m perfect, little flame. Now, where is that book about dragons?"

In the corridor, Caelen walked until he was certain no one could see him. He stopped, his fist clenching until his knuckles turned white.

In his other hand, hidden within the folds of his sleeve, was a small, unassuming ring. It was the tool Vetra had given him... the catalyst for the memory wipe. It felt heavy, a piece of lead that promised a future and threatened a soul.

She shut me out, he thought, the image of the bite mark on her neck flashing behind his eyes like lightning. She barely even looked at me. She’s too busy with Rael. With her new life. With that beast.

He couldn’t even finish the thought of what they must have done for her to be marked like that. The rage was a hot, suffocating thing in his throat.

He looked down at the ring. The silver seemed to shimmer with a sickly, pale light.

"I need to get close to her," he whispered to the empty stone walls. "Soon. Before she slips away completely."

His determination, fueled by a toxic cocktail of jealousy and heartbreak, hardened into a jagged resolve. He would be patient. He would play the part of the grieving, humbled King. He would wait for the moment Soren was away... perhaps during this hunt.

And then, he would give her the gift of forgetting. He would make her his again, even if he had to burn her world to the ground to do it.