Scene: Amara's POV — That Same Night
I stared at him.
He had just agreed to honor Darius with a state funeral, to calm the raging palace rumors, to try—try—to mend the fracture between us.
And then he said it.
> "But I'm not going to attend."
My mouth parted slightly, not in shock—but in exhaustion. He always did this. One step forward. Two steps back.
"You want to redeem your image, calm your wife, quiet your council… and you won't even show up?" I asked slowly.
Chris didn't blink. "Amara… if I appear at that funeral, every general, every province, every foreign watcher will read it as guilt. They'll see weakness. They'll say I'm regretful."
"You should be regretful."
He sighed. "That's not how empires survive. I can't afford emotion. Not now. You know that."
I folded my arms. "Then let them say what they will. The empire is watching for humanity, Chris—not perfection. If you stay absent, the narrative is lost. You might've ordered the ceremony, but I guarantee they'll remember your absence louder than your decree."
He stared at the floor for a long moment.
Then, with a calm I recognized too well—his voice sharpened again:
> "You'll attend in my name. Represent the crown. Say what needs to be said. Let them grieve him through you."
I swallowed. "And what will you be doing while I stand over the body of the man you executed?"
His eyes locked with mine.
> "I'll be watching."
A beat passed.
That wasn't just a political move.
It was a test.
He was putting me in the fire, watching how I'd carry his sins and still command the crowd. Would I fold? Would I falter? Would I glorify the dead too much… or not enough?
Fine.
Two could play this game.
I turned from him, heading toward the door.
"Then you better watch closely," I said without looking back.
"Because I will speak as your empress.
Not your puppet."
I walked out, not knowing if I hated him more for staying in the shadows…
Or if I pitied him for not having the courage to stand in the light.