Chapter 18

The Thorns Beneath the Crown

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The morning light in the Salastian Palace was cold, almost cruel. It poured through the tall windows of the Empress’s chamber, reflecting on polished marble floors and the silver thread of her gown.

Aurelia stood by the balcony, a thin cloak draped over her shoulders. Her fingers brushed the small crystal vial hanging from a chain around her neck—the Starwell Shard. It pulsed faintly with violet light, a heartbeat echoing against her own.

Below her, the city was alive again. The bells tolled for peace, and the markets reopened after months of tension. The people were rebuilding—she could hear laughter again—but inside these golden walls, something darker was festering.

“Your Majesty,” her maid Emy said softly, bowing as she entered. “You have visitors. The Council wishes to speak with you in the Imperial Garden.”

Aurelia turned slowly. “The Council?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. The Duke of Farrow himself leads them.”

The Duke of Farrow. A cunning man with eyes like daggers and a tongue that never missed its mark.

Aurelia nodded, her voice calm. “Prepare my veil, then. I’ll meet them shortly.”

Emy hesitated, then spoke again, her voice lower. “My lady… they say strange things in the halls. About you—and Lord Kairos.”

Aurelia’s chest tightened. “What things?”

“That the commander has been visiting your chambers nightly. That he bewitched you for power. They say even the Emperor grows suspicious.”

Aurelia’s fingers stilled around the railing. “Who started these rumors?”

Emy looked down. “Lady Alessandra Torresano was seen speaking with the courtiers again.”

For a moment, the world went still.

Aurelia turned back to the window. The snow from the night before had melted into silver puddles that reflected the pale sky. She breathed in slowly, steadying herself.

“Let them talk,” she whispered. “Truth needs no defense from liars.”

But her voice wavered ever so slightly.

The Imperial Garden was a masterpiece of frozen beauty—silver trees rimed with frost, fountains of enchanted ice, and roses that bloomed even in winter.

Aurelia entered with her guards behind her, her movements regal, deliberate. The council bowed in greeting, though none of them met her eyes for long.

The Duke of Farrow, tall and lean, stepped forward with a smile that was all politeness and poison.

“Your Majesty,” he said smoothly. “Forgive us for disturbing your morning, but we come with concerns regarding certain… improprieties within the palace.”

“Improprieties?” Aurelia asked, voice even.

“Indeed. Word travels fast, and while I am certain it is but a misunderstanding, the people whisper that the Empress has been… consorting with the Commander of the Guard.”

The word consorting hung in the air like a slap.

Aurelia’s guards shifted uneasily. The Duke continued, unbothered.

“We only seek to protect the honor of the crown, Your Majesty. His Imperial Highness may not take kindly to such talk. In times of unrest, perception is as powerful as truth.”

Aurelia’s gaze was icy calm. “And tell me, Duke—who spreads these words so conveniently when the Emperor is away?”

He bowed slightly. “Rumors grow like weeds, Your Majesty. One cannot always trace their root.”

“Then you are a gardener who lets his weeds choke the garden,” she said sharply. “Be careful you do not lose your flowers.”

The Duke’s smile faltered for the briefest moment. He bowed lower. “A fair warning, my Empress. Let us hope that your loyalty blooms as brightly.”

That evening, Kairos returned to the palace after days spent at the borders, investigating rebel movements. He found Aurelia waiting in the Great Hall, her expression unreadable.

She looked every bit the Empress—poised, elegant, distant.

“Kairos,” she said softly. “We need to talk.”

He froze. The tone in her voice was one he hadn’t heard since before the war—measured, formal, like a blade sheathed in silk.

“Of course,” he replied, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

She held up a letter sealed in crimson wax. “Rumors. Accusations. The court says you and I…”

Her throat tightened. “…that you have bewitched me.”

Kairos’s eyes darkened. “Who dares—?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted. “What matters is that the Emperor himself has heard them.”

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then, Kairos said quietly, “Do you believe them, Aurelia?”

She turned sharply to him. “Of course not.”

“Then why do you sound afraid?”

“Because truth isn’t what rules the court, Kairos. Fear does.”

He stepped closer until only a breath separated them. “Let them talk. I’ll protect you.”

She laughed faintly, bitterly. “You can’t fight a whisper with a sword.”

He reached for her hand. “No. But I can stand beside you while you face it.”

For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked—and in that look, the walls between them trembled.

Then a voice cut through the hall like thunder.

“So this is where I find you.”

They turned.

Emperor Marcus stood in the doorway, his face carved in fury.

The silence was suffocating.

“Your Majesty,” Aurelia began, bowing. “You should have sent word—”

“I sent word,” Marcus snapped. “You ignored it.”

Kairos straightened, bowing slightly. “Your Majesty, with respect—”

“Enough.” The Emperor’s voice echoed through the hall. “I have heard the whispers. The Empress and her knight, meeting in secret. Sharing the same chamber.”

Aurelia’s eyes widened. “That’s a lie—”

“Is it?” Marcus’s gaze flickered between them, sharp as broken glass. “Then explain the servants’ accounts. Explain why my commander abandons his post nightly to visit the Empress’s wing.”

Kairos’s jaw clenched. “I visited her because she was ill. The curse—”

“The curse?” Marcus scoffed. “Or the comfort of a lonely bed?”

The words hit like a blow.

Aurelia’s breath caught, her vision blurring with a sting of tears she refused to let fall.

Kairos stepped forward, voice low and dangerous. “You speak too freely, Your Majesty.”

Marcus turned on him. “You forget your place, Commander.”

“And you forget she’s your wife,” Kairos growled.

The air crackled with tension.

Aurelia moved between them, raising her hand. “Stop it—both of you.”

Her voice trembled, but the authority in it silenced them.

She turned to Marcus, eyes steady. “If you think I would betray the crown, then you never knew me.”

Marcus’s fury faltered for a heartbeat—but pride won over reason. “Be careful, Aurelia. I will not have this empire made a mockery of.”

He turned and strode away, his cloak whipping behind him.

When the doors slammed shut, the echo lingered like a wound.

Aurelia stood still, trembling.

Kairos reached for her shoulder. “Aurelia…”

She turned, eyes bright with restrained pain. “Don’t. Please.”

He froze.

“If you stay near me, they’ll destroy you too,” she whispered. “Leave. Just for now. Let them think what they want.”

Kairos shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving you again.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, voice cracking. “Every time you’re near, the curse grows stronger. The whispers grow louder. It’s as if the world itself wants us apart.”

He looked at her, his eyes full of sorrow. “Then let it try.”

She smiled faintly, tears glimmering on her lashes. “You really don’t know how to give up, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you.”

And for the first time, she let herself reach for him.

Their hands met—just for a heartbeat—and the crystal at her neck flared with light.

A pulse of energy rippled through the hall, unseen by all but them.

Aurelia gasped softly. “The curse… it reacted.”

Kairos’s eyes widened. “To what?”

“To you.”

They both froze, realization dawning like dawn breaking over ruin.

The curse that bound her—was bound to him.

That night, alone in her chamber, Aurelia stared at the faintly glowing shard against her skin.

Her heart ached with a thousand questions, but one truth pulsed louder than the rest:

If the curse bound them together, then perhaps… perhaps it was never meant to destroy them.

Perhaps it was meant to force them to choose each other, despite the world’s cruelty.

And in that fragile, painful hope—Aurelia found herself smiling for the first time in months.