Cerena advanced slowly down the corridor, guided by the man walking beside her. He was tall, bearded, and clad in solid metal armor. Observing the surroundings, the young woman remained silent. He led her through the palace with a confident step.

  ???

  That morning, Cerena had woken with a headache. The conversation she had had with the Emperor the previous day lingered persistently in her mind. She used the time of her toilette to ask her lady-in-waiting to confirm his words and accompany her outside. The woman politely declined before taking her leave.

  A few hours later, however, a soldier appeared at her door. She recognized him immediately: none other than the Captain who had escorted her to the palace, and also Owen’s former swordmaster.

  “Good day to you, My Lady,” he said, bowing with a kind smile. “It is an honor to see you again. I have been informed that you sought a guide, for which I have been dispatched.”

  Cerena regarded him for a moment, questioning his intentions. Was he still the cold, protocol-bound soldier who had brought her to the throne, or the loyal, warm-hearted man from their journey?

  Before she could voice her doubts, noticing her hesitation, he continued:

  “Pray forgive my conduct the other day. Fulfilling my duty and reporting to His Majesty are always my utmost priorities.”

  He bowed again and concluded:

  “I hope, therefore, to earn your pardon today. I shall take you wherever you wish to go.”

  She lowered her eyes, considering for a moment.

  “I would… like to see my son’s chambers.”

  “Very well, My Lady. Please, follow me.”

  He stepped back a pace and indicated the direction, then fell slightly behind her.

  ???

  Her emotions churned in her heart. From their first encounter, the Emperor had seemed nothing less than terrifying. He had never shown her the slightest sympathy or compassion.

  He had always acted upon her without her consent; had harmed, isolated, humiliated, imprisoned, and abandoned her… and had used her as leverage against Owen.

  The mere sight of his silver hair filled her with dread… to the point that she had even feared her own son, who bore his father’s features.

  When she had arrived at the village, her time at the palace had left indelible marks upon her soul. It had taken months to regain the strength she lacked and to learn to trust once more.

  Yet, even after so much suffering and hardship, she had finally made the village her home, started a family there, and found happiness again.

  But the Emperor had returned; not in person, certainly, but it mattered little. He had once more destroyed everything: the village burned, its inhabitants murdered, and her family scattered and grievously wounded…

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  These were acts she could never forgive. Impossible…

  And yet, her resolve wavered. Despite his implicit threat upon his return, she could no longer understand him. He had not raised a hand against her. He even granted her some measure of freedom within the palace… visiting her each day without fail, without tormenting her, and taking the time to converse with her.

  Though this was not the company she would have wished for, she knew how oppressive isolation could be. In such circumstances, receiving attention from this man was, in a sense, a small consolation to her situation… so long as he remained pacific.

  Yet she did not know how long this would last. She feared he might grow weary of this gentleness.

  ???

  “My Lady, we have arrived,” said the Captain, stopping before a door and opening it.

  He allowed Cerena to enter, leaning against the doorframe, letting her take in the surroundings.

  She stepped forward, studying every detail with care. The room closely resembled her own chamber, the furniture similar. She sat upon the four-poster bed, lightly touching the covers and pillow with her fingers, her gaze lost in thought.

  It was surely the place that had inspired Owen’s dreams—the moments that had brought them closer in solitude, and to which she owed her salvation.

  A wave of melancholy washed over her. She did not miss that time, yet she missed Owen…

  After a while, the Captain spoke, interrupting her reverie.

  “He was a good boy. Always diligent in his lessons. He never complained, and spoke only when necessary. He knew how to listen, and he learned swiftly. I was proud to have had him as a pupil.”

  He spoke with certainty, yet Cerena felt a hint of sadness in his voice.

  “I was truly glad to see him again, there, in the mountains. I saw how much he had grown. He never turned the page, did he? The light in his eyes when I saw him that time—it was not that of a boy at peace. I am sorry that things turned out so… that I drove him to the brink. I had hoped it might have gone differently.”

  She listened in silence, a faint smile on her lips. Tears welled in her eyes, a tide of emotion tightening her chest.

  Long minutes passed, neither of them speaking or moving.

  Suddenly, she saw the Captain step away, speaking to someone. Then the Emperor appeared in the doorway.

  Cerena rose, rubbing her tearful eyes, attempting to regain her composure. He surveyed the room before resting his gaze upon her.

  “Good even to thee,” he said. “I hope the visit has pleased you…”

  She nodded silently.

  “Wilt thou follow me onward?” he asked.

  Cerena looked at him, wary, then inclined her head slightly. He turned and left the room without further word. She followed him, while the Captain remained on place.

  The Emperor led her at a brisk pace down the corridor, in silence. Soon they arrived before a sumptuous door.

  “Allow me to invite thee into my chambers.”

  Cerena’s heart leapt. Alarmed, she stammered,

  “Y-Your ch… your chambers?!”

  “Indeed,” he confirmed, a shadow of a smile crossing his face.

  A shiver ran down Cerena’s spine, her nape damp with sweat.