(Romulus POV)
The palace had grown quiet.
That was how I preferred it before important meetings—when the echoes of footsteps faded and even the servants moved as if afraid to disturb the air itself. Silence sharpened the mind. It allowed me to hear my own thoughts without distraction.
I stood before the mirror as servants adjusted the dark robes draped over my shoulders. Gold embroidery traced the fabric in patterns of sun and serpents, symbols of Alexandria's dominion. The crown rested nearby, untouched.
"Leave," I ordered.
They withdrew at once, heads bowed, doors closing softly behind them.
Alone, I reached for the goblet on the table.
The liquid inside was bitter, infused with rare desert herbs meant to slow the poison's advance. It burned as it went down, but I welcomed the sensation. Pain reminded me I was still alive.
Barely.
I set the goblet aside and closed my eyes.
The Constantine princess had arrived.
That knowledge sat heavy in my chest—not with anticipation, but with calculation. I had received reports throughout the day. She had passed through Atenisia without incident. No unrest. No attempt at escape. No foolish display of arrogance.
Calm.
Too calm for someone who had just crossed enemy borders and entered a conqueror's palace.
Most women brought here were trembling by the time they reached the inner chambers. Even noble daughters raised on entitlement learned fear quickly once they stepped inside my walls.
Almera Ashelet Constantine had not.
Interesting.
I moved toward the balcony and looked down upon the city bathed in the amber glow of dusk. Atenisia thrived because I had forced it to. Order was not born of kindness—it was forged through control, compromise, and blood when necessary.
That was the kind of emperor I was.
And yet, this princess threatened something I had kept locked away for years.
Hope.
If the rumors were true—if the blood of the saintess truly ran strong in her—then she represented more than a political hostage. She was a possibility. A slim one, perhaps, but enough to make even a dying emperor pause.
I clenched my fist.
Hope was dangerous.
I had learned that lesson young.
The poison that took my mother did not act swiftly. It lingered. I remembered her hands trembling as she brushed my hair, her voice soft even as her body betrayed her. She had believed she would survive.
She was wrong.
Cecilia believed too.
I would not allow her to be wrong as well.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Your Majesty," Ashta's voice came from the other side. "The princess has been settled in the eastern chambers. She awaits your summons."
Awaits.
Not begs.
Not pleads.
I opened the door myself.
"Ashta," I said, studying her expression. "What do you think of her?"
She hesitated—a rare thing for her. "She is… composed. Too composed."
I nodded. "So, you see it too."
"Yes, Your Majesty. She does not behave like a sacrificial bride."
Good.
That meant she had not come here blindly.
"Ensure the guards are posted outside the chamber," I said. "No interruptions."
"As you command."
Ashta turned to leave, then paused. "Your Majesty… the Small Council is restless."
I smiled faintly. "Let them be. This matter is mine alone."
The council wanted results. They wanted healing. They wanted the Constantine princess to become useful or disposable as quickly as possible.
But I did not rule by rushing.
I returned to the table and picked up the crown at last. Its weight was familiar, grounding. When I placed it upon my head, the world seemed to settle into its proper order.
I was not a man walking to meet a bride.
I was an emperor approaching a negotiation.
If Almera Ashelet Constantine wished to survive, she would need more than bloodline and beauty. She would need intelligence, courage—and the audacity to bargain with a man who held her fate in his hands.
I turned toward the door.
"Prepare the wedding chambers," I ordered the guards stationed outside. "I will meet the princess shortly."
The doors opened.
As I walked down the corridor, my steps steady despite the dull ache spreading through my veins, a single thought echoed in my mind.
Show me what you are willing to wager, Princess.
Because if you fail—
I would not hesitate to let you become exactly what your father intended.
A corpse that justifies war.
(Almera POV)
The chamber was too quiet.
The curtains swayed gently as warm air drifted in from the open windows, carrying with it the distant sound of the city below. Atenisia did not sleep early. Even within the palace walls, life pulsed on.
I stood near the window, my hands clasped together in front of me, my posture straight despite the weight pressing down on my chest.
This was the moment.
Everything I had endured—the journey across the sea of sand, the whispers, the careful steps through enemy territory—had led to this chamber.
To him.
I inhaled slowly, steadying myself.
I was not here to be a sacrifice.
That was what my father had intended. To send me like an offering, fragile and disposable, so that my death would fracture the truce and give Constantine an excuse to draw its sword again.
I would not give him that satisfaction.
My gaze drifted to the wardrobe placed against the far wall. Earlier, one of the attendants had opened it briefly to arrange my belongings. Inside were garments unlike anything I had worn before—light fabrics, flowing and revealing in a way that suited the desert climate. Clothing meant for the harem.
Clothing meant to claim me.
I turned away.
If I was to survive in this palace, beauty and obedience would not be enough. I needed leverage.
Something only I could offer.
My fingers tightened slightly.
Healing.
The word echoed in my mind like a forbidden prayer.
I had hidden it my entire life—even from my own family. My power was not something that manifested loudly or dramatically. It was subtle, warm, almost gentle. A miracle that demanded secrecy. My mother had made me promise, her hand cold in mine as her life faded away.
Never reveal it unless you are prepared to pay the price.
And yet, here I was.
If there was ever a time to break that promise, it was now.
The intelligence network I had built in secret—the Black Rose hidden beneath the White—had whispered truths that no court rumor could suppress. Emperor Romulus Alessander was dying. Slowly. From poison.
And more importantly—
His sister.
Cecilia.
A name I had read more than once in coded reports. Sickly. Hidden from the public eye. Cherished.
If the emperor had a weakness, it was her.
I did not need to heal him.
Not yet.
If I revealed my ability, even partially, if I offered hope where there was none… then I would not be a disposable bride.
I would be indispensable.
My heart pounded as the weight of the gamble settled in.
This is your wager, Almera.
Not gold. Not obedience.
But life.
Footsteps echoed outside the chamber.
I stilled.
The doors opened.
For a brief, treacherous second, I forgot how to breathe.
He was taller than I expected.
Broad-shouldered, powerful, his presence alone commanding the space as he stepped inside. He wore little, customary clothing for a desert empire, I realized distantly. Fabric draped loosely around his waist and shoulders, leaving his chest bare.
Golden olive skin caught the light, marked not by softness but by strength earned through years of rule and battle. His physique was that of a man who commanded armies, not merely a throne.
So, this is Emperor Romulus.
My gaze flickered, only for a heartbeat, before I forced it down.
I had seen similar garments prepared for me. Clothing meant to mirror this culture, this intimacy. The realization sent heat crawling up my spine.
Do not falter.
I lifted my chin, schooling my expression into calm composure.
He was my husband-to-be.
And I was still a princess of Constantine.
I lowered myself into a formal bow, movements measured and dignified.
"Your Majesty," I said clearly, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "I greet you as Almera Ashelet Constantine."
I rose and met his gaze, not defiantly, not submissively.
Respectfully.
"I thank you for granting me audience."
For a moment, the air between us tightened.
I felt it, the shift.
Interest.
Not lust. Not dismissal.
Curiosity.
And that, more than anything else, told me I had taken my first step correctly.