Scene: Still at the Funeral – Amara's POV
The air still held the weight of mourning, but the tone had shifted. Applause had died down. Eyes had returned to me—not with tears now, but questions. Doubt. Curiosity.
And then came a voice I knew far too well.
> "But… why is Father not present?"
Classic's tone was calm—respectful. But sharp. And loud enough for the entire courtyard to hear.
He stepped forward from the line of nobles, every eye following him as if he'd been waiting for this moment. Not shouting. Not attacking. Just… asking.
And that was the real threat.
> "We've all accepted your words, Empress. But this is the funeral of a man executed by the King's direct order. Your presence brings grace. But the empire deserves transparency."
He paused—just enough to let the silence sting.
> "We want a reason. A real one."
It wasn't rebellion.
It was strategy.
Classic knew the game. And he was now playing on the board.
I felt the tension surge behind me. Advisors shifted. Military officials glanced at one another. Even the B.A.M. commanders blinked beneath their visors. No one had ever publicly questioned a royal decree before—not like this.
And it had to come from him.
I could feel the gravity of the moment.
So I stepped forward.
> "You want a reason?" I said, voice amplified by the comm-speakers, carrying across every district. "You all do."
I scanned the crowd. Then I looked at Classic. Held his gaze.
> "The King is not absent out of disrespect. He is absent because he's handling the weight that you all refuse to admit—that even a King can carry regret."
Murmurs broke out.
But I raised my voice—not in defense, but in command.
> "You think I'm here to shield him. I'm not. I'm here because this empire must understand one thing: the crown is heavier than all of you imagine. And Chris Blackwood, for all his flaws, for all his fury—he still made the hardest decision a ruler can make: sacrificing loyalty to preserve control."
> "He is not here because he is still human enough to feel the pain of what was lost. He did not run. He chose to carry it alone."
Classic didn't interrupt. He stood with hands behind his back, studying me, lips tight.
So I stepped closer to the edge of the stage, looking not just at him… but at everyone.
> "So here I am. The wife. The Empress. The sword. I will stand in front of you now. I will take your questions. I will absorb your grief. But don't ever mistake his silence for weakness."
A long pause.
Then I added quietly,
> "Sometimes, the strongest thing a King can do… is disappear long enough to remind you what absence feels like."
Classic's eyes narrowed.
He nodded once—just enough to seem satisfied.
But I knew that wasn't the end of it.
He was testing the temperature of the empire.
And now?
He knew it was still hot.