Winter had not yet reached the capital in full, but its distant breath lingered gently in the imperial gardens. Sunlight streamed through the swaying willow branches, painting shifting patterns across the stone paths and carefully tended flowerbeds. The last roses of the season stood proudly among trimmed hedges, their fragrance mingling with the faint scent of steeped tea carried by the breeze.
The Empress Dowager sipped her tea, setting the fine porcelain down with a click. She exhaled a heavy sigh, the gold embroidery of her heavy silk robes catching the sunlight. "It is a pity I missed such an amusement."
To her right, Lady Delayna didn't bother looking up from her own cup, though a sharp smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Your Majesty, that is a terrible thing to say. You are supposed to be the moral pillar of the Imperial court."
"Why?" The Dowager waved a dismissive biscuit through the air, her jeweled rings flashing. "Nobody died. Where is the harm in a little chaos?"
"Do not grieve, Your Majesty," Delayna replied, her shoulders shaking with a light chuckle as she adjusted her lace cuffs. "I, too, missed the entire spectacle."
The Dowager narrowed her eyes, studying her. "As if you actually care about missed entertainment."
Delayna let out a soft snort and turned her attention to her left. Beside her, Lethia sat frozen, staring blankly into the depths of her swirling tea, entirely lost in her own thoughts.
She wasn't present in the sunlit garden. Her mind remained imprisoned by the shadows of the previous night.
I have fallen for you, my lady.
Those words had shaken her very foundations, fracturing the icy armor around a heart she believed had long since turned to stone. He had reawakened her dormant spirit, forcing it to beat for a passion more perilous to her than any enemy.
Yet, she had repelled him.
She recalled the exact, cruel falsehood she had forced past her trembling lips while his eyes had held her with such reverence.
I apologize, but I do not feel the same way. You provided a fleeting sense of peace, nothing more.
It had been a flawless deception. But deep within her soul, she wanted him every bit as desperately as he wanted her. Before the lie could crumble, before his amber eyes could see the truth bleeding through her mask, she had simply turned and fled. She lacked the courage required to face the devastation in his eyes, choosing instead to run away like a coward.
"My Lady, do you feel alright?" Delayna's tone shifted, the teasing edge instantly melting into genuine concern. She reached out, her fingers hovering near Lethia's wrist.
"Are you still shaken by what happened?"
Lethia did not answer. She blinked twice, before lifting a hollow, unfocused gaze.
"Huh?"
The Dowager leaned forward, the heavy emerald jewelry at her throat clicking as her sharp eyes scanned the girl's features. "Yes, Lethia, what is it? Your face is entirely devoid of color."
The sudden weight of their stares finally snapped Lethia back to the present.
She cleared her throat, a practiced mask of noble indifference smoothing over her features.
"Ah, it is nothing. I was simply listening to the two of you."
The Dowager arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow, wholly unconvinced.
"Really? Then what exactly were we just discussing?"
Lethia met her gaze with a completely flat expression. "About your desire to see people torn apart by wolves, and how deeply saddened you are to have missed the bloodshed."
Delayna burst out laughing, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the undignified sound.
An abrupt, choked snort echoed from across the stone table. Prince Davian, seated to the left of the Dowager, was desperately trying to swallow his amusement.
The Dowager shifted a cold, unimpressed glare toward him.
"And what brought you out of hiding?" she demanded, her voice dripping with royal annoyance. "Whenever I actually summon you to the palace, you treat my orders like mere suggestions. What do you want?"
Davian quickly strangled his laughter, squaring his broad shoulders to flash an effortlessly charming, innocent smile.
"Your Majesty, I missed you fiercely. That is the sole reason for my presence today. Can a grandson not long for his grandmother's company?"
"As if." The Dowager poured another splash of dark tea into her cup.
"I fully expected your next visit to be on the day of my funeral."
Delayna's amusement vanished, replaced by an annoyed scowl. "Your Majesty, how many times must I ask you not to speak of such morbid things? The heavens might listen."
"Exactly," Davian chimed in, nodding with smooth alignment. "Our grandmother is exceptionally resilient. I certainly won't permit you to leave us so soon. The empire would fall apart without your iron fist."
The Dowager offered another scoff, though a flicker of genuine warmth danced in her eyes before she forced her features back into a stern scold. "If you cared a whit for my longevity, you would have actually reviewed the matches I selected for you. I arranged introductions with the most accomplished young ladies of the high nobility, wanting nothing more than to see you settled before I close my eyes. Yet you ignore every invitation."
Davian merely smiled at his grandmother's reprimand, entirely unbothered. He tilted his head, his smile turning sly.
"Ah, but Your Majesty, how could I possibly look upon any of them? When I am in the presence of the most breathtaking, radiant woman in the empire my own grandmother...all other ladies simply pale in comparison. It would be a supreme insult to your grace if I settled for any lesser consort."
The Empress Dowager rolled her eyes, though the crisp line of her mouth twitched with a suppressed smile.
"Flattery will not absolve you of your duties, Prince Davian. You are a terrible rogue."
"A rogue who loves you dearly, Grandmother," Davian countered smoothly, taking another slow sip of his tea.
Delayna, sensing the lecture was about to circle back around to her own marital prospects, set her cup down with a polite nod.
"Your Imperial Majesty, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave. Lady Maria is awaiting my review of the new winter linens."
"Very well, child. Do not let her bully you into the expensive silk. The wool blends from the western provinces are far more durable," the Dowager replied with a warm, maternal wave of her hand.
"I shall do my best to be frugal," Delayna smiled, curtsying gracefully before turning toward the arched garden exit.
Davian immediately pushed his heavy chair back, his charming smile returning in full force as he seized the opportunity to escape.
"And I shall escort Lady Delayna to ensure she is not ambushed by any rogue. Your Majesty, Lady Lethia." He offered a sweeping, flawless noble bow.
"Go on, get out of my sight," the Dowager grumbled affectionately, waving a dismissive hand as Davian quickly followed in Delayna's wake, his long strides easily catching up to her as they disappeared down the rose lined gravel path.
The lively energy of the garden vanished with them, leaving a heavy, sudden silence in its place. The rustling of the willow trees seemed louder now, mocking the stillness at the table. Only the Empress Dowager and Lethia remained.
The Dowager slowly turned her head, fixing Lethia with a thoroughly unimpressed, long-suffering look. She let out a heavy, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all the secrets she had held for decades.
"Tell me now what is bothering you," the Dowager commanded softly, her sharp eyes cutting right through Lethia's polite composure like a scalpel. "Do you truly believe you can hide your troubles from my sight? I have lived far too long and seen far too much to be deceived by a sly tongue."
Lethia slowly lifted her gaze to meet the dowgar's eyes, her fingers tightening around the porcelain handle of her cup.
To the Dowager, Lethia looked entirely defeated today. It was a jarring, unsettling sight. The young lady had never carried herself this way before. Usually, she was a creature of fierce, guarded pride like a defensive feral cat that would hiss and bite the absolute moment anyone dared to provoke her or step too close to her boundaries. To see that sharp, wild edge completely dulled made the Dowager's heart ache with concern.
Lethia looked down at her hands, her voice dropping so low it was barely a whisper against the breeze.
"It is nothing, Your Majesty. Just... there is something I want, but I am entirely aware that I will only ruin it. So, instead, I chose to walk away before the damage could be done."
The Dowager closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting out another slow, measured sigh. "And why, pray tell, are you so certain that you will ruin it?"
Lethia looked up, a bitter, hollow laugh threatening to crack her voice.
"Is it not entirely obvious? I am far too broken to love anyone." She gripped her skirt tightly, the fine fabric wrinkling miserably under her fingers.
"After witnessing how my own mother ended up... how she was destroyed by her own heart... I do not even wish to try. I cannot bring myself to trust others. Especially men."
She swallowed the thick lump forming in her throat, her expression hardening back into a rigid mask of cold resolve.
"And even if I could somehow find the strength to trust... I simply do not see love as a part of the vision I have for my future. Love is a luxury for a woman."
The Dowager's sharp eyes narrowed into slits.
"Tell me, Lethia," the Dowager said, her voice dropping to a flat, piercing tone that resonated with absolute authority. "Why are you so terrified of the future that you are willing to destroy your present?"
Lethia froze, her breath hitching. She lowered her gaze, unable to maintain eye contact with the matriarch.
"I'm afraid he will get hurt because of me."
"You say you walked away because you were afraid you would hurt him," the Dowager continued calmly.
"But look at yourself. By running away, you have already done it. You committed the exact crime you were terrified of committing, except you did it entirely alone without even giving him a choice in the matter."
Lethia's heart squeezed painfully in her chest.
"You believe you are too broken to love," the Dowager spoke, leaning forward, the power of her presence filling the space between them.
"You think love belongs only to the whole and the unblemished. It does not. Love is meant to be handled by messy, imperfect people who are willing to stumble through the dark together. If he looked at your jagged edges and decided you were worth the risk of being cut, who are you to tell him he is wrong?"
Lethia listened silently, her gaze still pinned to the stone floor. Every word felt like a physical blow.
It was true. She always decided everything on her own. She had decided to embrace him for a single, selfish moment, just to push him away with a cruel lie the very next.
"Do not dress your cowardice up as mercy, child. You did not leave him to save him from suffering," the Dowager added, her voice sharpening.
"You left because staying requires a courage you are too terrified to muster. You ran because running is easy; it requires nothing but fear. Staying is what takes true strength."
The old woman leaned back, her gaze drilling into Lethia's soul. "You chose to walk away. So let me ask you plainly."
" Don't you cherish him enough to risk the perfect, lonely vision you made for yourself?"
Lethia finally looked up, locking her eyes into the Dowager's.
Do I?
The question echoed violently in her mind.
Do I cherish Serik enough to risk everything I have built so far?
She was about to say yes...the truth was screaming at the back of her throat, demanding to be let out.
But suddenly, the cold walls of her defense slammed shut again. The fear of vulnerability rushed back, and she reclaimed her rigid calm.
She sat up perfectly straight, smoothed her gown, and took a slow sip of her tea, physically forcing down the emotions that threatened to drown her.
Looking directly at the Dowager, she whispered simply, "I guess, I don't."
The Dowager's expression hardened into pure irritation. She knew exactly who they were talking about she knew her grandson's heart, and she knew the depths of the amber eyes Lethia had just dismissed.
The empress stood up, her silks rustling with authority.
"It is your loss then, Lady Lethia."
She looked down at the sitting girl, her voice dropping into a register that made it clear she was no longer speaking as a companion, but as a sovereign ruler protecting her bloodline.
"I just hope you won't give him false hopes from now on. As he the most beloved grandchild of mine."
It was not a request... it was a warning.
Without waiting for Lethia to respond, the Dowager turned and swept out of the garden, her attendants falling into line behind her.
The Empress Dowager had always been sweet and kind with her words during their private chats, but when it came to her family, she was a royal through and through. The warmth could turn to ice in a single heartbeat.
Lethia let out a quiet scoff, raising the teacup to her lips. The liquid had gone entirely cold.
Even though the empress dowager had left, her sharp words continued to echo through the empty garden, bouncing off the stone pillars.
Do I really cherish him that much?
Lethia thought, staring at the ripple in her cup. The memory of his touch against her scar, his deep, soothing voice from that night, filled her mind until it was almost suffocating.
She slammed the cup down onto the saucer.
"I let my guard down today," Lethia muttered to herself, her teeth gritting in intense irritation.
What a pathetic loser you are.
She closed her eyes, hating the fact that even in the quiet of the garden, she could still feel the phantom warmth of his chest against her skin.