(Almera POV)
The air between us felt heavy.
Not suffocating—but weighted, as if the chamber itself was holding its breath.
Emperor Romulus stood a few steps away from me, tall and unmoving, his presence filling the space without effort. The lamplight caught on his skin, tracing the hard lines of muscle and the faint scars I pretended not to notice. He did not speak immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on me—assessing, measuring, stripping away pretenses one layer at a time.
I had been inspected like this before.
By nobles. By priests. By men who believed power granted them ownership.
But this was different.
Romulus was not judging my beauty.
He was deciding my worth.
I straightened my spine and met his gaze evenly.
Silence stretched.
Then he spoke.
"You do not tremble," he said calmly. "Most women brought before me do."
"I was not raised to tremble, Your Majesty," I replied. "And I did not cross a sea of sand to do so now."
That earned a flicker of something in his eyes—interest sharpened by surprise.
"So," he said, folding his arms across his chest, muscles shifting beneath skin, "tell me why you stopped me. Tonight should be our wedding night. But you suggested it to be tomorrow."
My heart pounded.
This was it.
The moment where I either secured my survival—or signed my own death warrant.
"I wish to make a wager," I said clearly.
A slow smile curved his lips. "You already said that. What I wish to know is whether you understand who you are bargaining with."
"I do," I answered. "An emperor who does not waste what is useful."
His smile widened—not kindly.
"Careful, Princess. You assume much." He replied.
"I assume nothing," I said. "I came prepared."
The words hung between us.
He did not interrupt me.
That alone told me he was listening.
"I know why I was sent here," I continued. "My father did not send me to be cherished. He sent me to die."
Romulus's expression did not change, but the air sharpened.
"He expected my death to fracture the truce," I said. "Whether by intrigue within your harem or by your own hand. Either outcome benefits him."
"And yet you stand before me," Romulus said quietly, "alive."
"Because I do not intend to die," I replied.
A pause.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly—but genuinely amused.
"You speak boldly for someone whose life rests entirely in my hands." He said with amusement.
"Yes," I said softly. "Which is why I must offer you something that makes killing me… inconvenient."
His gaze darkened.
"Then speak," he said. "What do you have that is worth more than your life?"
I took a slow breath.
And chose truth.
"I can heal," I said.
The words settled into the chamber like a drop of water on heated stone.
Romulus did not react immediately.
I could see the skepticism in his eyes, the reflex of a man who had heard lies dressed as miracles too many times.
"Healing is the Church of Light's domain," he said. "And even they cannot do what you imply without elixirs."
"I know," I replied. "Because my mother was the one who made them."
That did it.
His posture shifted—just slightly—but enough.
"You are the daughter of the former saintess," he said slowly.
"Yes." I replied calmly.
"And you claim you inherited her ability." He continued
"I did." I nodded.
He studied me for a long moment.
"If that were true," he said, "you would have revealed it long ago. To your empire. To your church. To save your own position."
"I hid it," I said. "From everyone."
"Why?" He asked with curiosity.
"Because miracles make people greedy," I answered. "And saints rarely die peacefully."
The words were quiet—but sharp.
Romulus's eyes narrowed.
"You are either very clever," he said, "or very foolish."
"I survived the Constantine court," I replied. "You may decide which."
Another pause.
"Even if I entertained this claim," he said, "it is insufficient. Healing alone does not buy immunity."
I expected that.
"That is why healing is not my only offer," I said.
His brow lifted slightly. "Go on."
I clasped my hands together, hiding the faint tremor in my fingers.
"I also dream," I said.
His gaze sharpened. "Everyone dreams."
"Not like this," I replied.
I met his eyes directly.
"I have prophetic dreams."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Romulus did not move.
Did not blink.
Did not speak.
The weight of what I had just said pressed down on me until my lungs ached.
Finally, he stepped closer.
Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
"Be very careful, Princess," he said quietly. "Prophecy is a dangerous word."
"I know," I said. "That is why I did not speak it lightly."
"Prove it," he said.
I swallowed.
"There was an assassin among my escort," I said. "At the village before Atenisia."
His eyes flickered.
"A man with a snake tattoo," I continued. "He would have attempted to slit my throat at dawn. Captain Malik would have been stabbed protecting me. Jessie—my attendant—would have died."
Romulus's expression hardened instantly. "That did not happen."
"Because I changed it," I said. "Because I saw it before it occurred."
He stared at me.
"The assassin's name is Aman," I added. "Head of the Viper Sands. He was promised an elixir in exchange for my life. His sister is sick. She resides in the southern hospital district."
The color drained from his face.
That was the moment I knew.
He believed me.
"Enough," he said sharply.
I fell silent at once.
"You claim much," he said slowly. "Too much."
"I claim only what I can prove," I replied. "Allow me to heal someone. Anyone you choose."
His jaw tightened.
"You know who I would choose," he said.
"Yes," I answered. "Your sister."
The name lingered unspoken between us.
Cecilia.
Romulus turned away, pacing once before stopping near the window.
"For years," he said quietly, "physicians have fed me lies and false hope."
"I will not," I said. "If I cannot heal her, you may execute me yourself."
He turned back sharply. "You would stake your life on this?"
"Yes." I replied with convict.
"And if you succeed?" he asked.
"Then I ask for terms," I said.
His eyes locked onto mine.
"Speak them." He said firmly.
"I will not be treated as a disposable concubine," I said. "I will have protection from the harem's intrigues. And I will retain the right to speak to you freely."
"Bold," he murmured.
"And," I added, "I will advise you. When my dreams warn me of danger, you will listen."
A long silence followed.
Romulus studied me as if seeing me for the first time.
Not as a bride.
Not as a hostage.
But as a force.
"You would bind yourself to me," he said, "not just as a wife—but also as a weapon."
I lifted my chin.
"No," I said. "As an ally."
The corner of his mouth curved upward.
"Very well," he said. "I accept your wager."
My breath caught.
"But understand this," he continued, stepping close once more. "If you deceive me, there is no corner of this world you can hide in."
"I would expect nothing less," I said.
His gaze lingered on me—intense, searching.
"You are dangerous, Almera Ashelet Constantine," he said quietly.
I met his eyes without flinching.
"So are you, Emperor Romulus Alessander."
For the first time that night—
He smiled like a man who had found something rare.