The faintest hint of dawn bled through the stained glass, casting fractured hues across the dark stone. Luciana stirred as the soft coos of an infant drifted from the adjoining chamber. Erebus's arm remained draped across her waist, his head resting against her shoulder.
"I'll tend to them," she murmured, her voice soft with sleep.
His hand closed gently around her wrist before she could rise fully. "I should come," he rasped, the words rough with reluctance.
Luciana's lips curved. "Stay. You've managed an empire before breakfast. I can manage three princes."
In the nursery, Mina was gently rocking a fussing Ra'el. "Good morning, Your Majesty. The youngest prince is already restless."
"Good morning, Mina." Luciana took the infant, cradling him close. "He's grown."
"He has your eyes, Your Majesty. But his father's focus already. See how he watches everything?"
Before Luciana could reply, Nemesis rushed in. "Mother! Father's still here, isn't he?"
"He is. We're all staying together now."
He wrapped his arms around her waist. "For always?"
"For always."
Hades toddled in next, his dark eyes searching. "Papa?" he whispered, his speech still careful.
Erebus appeared in the doorway, having followed despite her suggestion. He lifted Hades into his arms. "I am here."
He then looked at Ra'el, who stared back with unblinking curiosity. Erebus brushed a thumb across the infant's cheek. "He'll be walking before we've adjusted to his crawling."
"That is the nature of children," Luciana said softly. "One day they will be men, facing their own struggles. I pray they find their happiness where they choose to be."
A sharp, measured knock at the door severed the moment.
A steward's voice filtered through. "The council convenes within the hour, Your Majesties."
Erebus's jaw tightened imperceptibly. He set Hades down, his hand grazing Luciana's lower back. "We'll finish this later," he promised, his voice for her alone.
He never left without kissing her first, a firm, lingering press of his lips to her forehead—a silent pact against the day's demands.
---
The council chamber occupied the highest tower, its obsidian walls offering a sweeping view of the ordered metropolis below. The air hummed with the tense energy of governance.
Erebus entered, Luciana at his side. His voice cut through the murmurs. "Report."
Lord Varyn, Minister of Infrastructure, spoke first. "The western arterial road is complete. Amanécerian stone-laying techniques halved our projected timeline." He glanced at Luciana. "Our engineers were… impressively receptive to the foreign methods."
Luciana inclined her head. "Efficiency benefits the empire, regardless of its origin, Minister."
General Goran, a veteran of the northern campaigns, leaned over the map. "Borders are secure. But the trade caravans from the Glacial Pass are reporting bandit activity—organized, not opportunistic. They strike and vanish into the old volcanic tunnels."
"Then burn them out," Erebus stated, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Seal the tunnels. Make an example of the ones you capture."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
Lord Ciaran, head of the Alchemical Guild, presented her scroll. "The new corrosion-resistant alloy for the coastal fortifications is ready for mass production. However, it requires a rare catalyst currently only mined in the annexed Tel'Vir region. Production will be slow without… incentivizing the local labor."
Luciana's gaze sharpened. "Incentivizing, Lord Ciaran? Do you mean coercion?"
The man met her eyes, unflinching. "I mean efficiency, Empress. The timeline—"
"Is less important than the stability of a newly integrated territory," Luciana finished, her voice cool. "Send imperial auditors. If the miners' grievances are legitimate, address them. Productivity follows loyalty, not fear."
A tense silence followed. Erebus's fingers stilled their rhythmic tapping on the table. He looked at Lord Ciaran. "You have your answer. Implement it."
The meeting continued, a stream of logistics and strategy. Finally, as the reports dwindled, an elderly minister, cleared his throat. "A final matter, Your Majesties. The… public ceremony. To formally present the Imperial Heirs to the citizenry. It is expected. It would solidify the line of succession in the eyes of the people."
Erebus looked to Luciana, a silent question in his eyes.
She considered it, thinking of the wary but curious crowds from the day before. "A presentation is wise. But not a military display. A public gathering in the Grand Forum. Let the people see their future rulers as a family, not just as symbols."
Minister's brows rose. "An intimate approach for a martial empire, Empress. Is that… advisable?"
Erebus's voice was low, final. "The Empress has spoken. Make the arrangements." He pushed back from the table, signaling the council's end. As the officials began to gather their scrolls, he turned to Luciana, his voice dropping so only she could hear. "A public display as a family. You're weaving Amanécerian softness into Krovzaryan steel."
She met his gaze squarely. "Not softness. Foundation. They will fight for a throne. They should also learn to love what sits upon it."
Before he could respond, the chamber doors opened again. Blake stood there, his usual stoicism replaced by a stark urgency. He did not address the room; his eyes locked solely on Erebus.
"Your Majesty. A rider from the Glacial Pass. The bandits… they didn't just hit a trade caravan." Blake's voice was gravel. "They took a garrison commander. And they left a message nailed to his standard."
The lingering councilors froze. Erebus went very still. "What message?"
Blake's gaze flickered, for the briefest moment, to Luciana. "It wasn't a demand for ransom, Sire. It was a question." He took a steadying breath. "It asks: 'Does the new Empress bleed like the old kings did?'"
The hum of the council chamber died into absolute silence. The air grew cold, heavy with the weight of the unspoken past.
Erebus did not move, but the stillness that settled over him was more dangerous than any outburst. His golden eyes hardened into molten ore. "Where is the rider?"
"In the infirmary. He was ambushed on his return. Barely made it," Blake replied, his own hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Lu Yin broke the silence, his voice tight. "This is no ordinary banditry. This is a direct challenge to imperial authority."
"It is a challenge to her authority," Erebus corrected, his voice a low vibration that seemed to resonate in the stone itself. He turned his gaze to Luciana. The question in the message was a blade with two edges: it questioned her legitimacy, and it invoked the bloody history of the old Krovzaryan kings—the ones Erebus had torn down.
Luciana felt the eyes of the council upon her, watching for a crack, a flinch. She kept her spine straight, her hands resting calmly on the table. "They seek to divide," she stated, her voice clear in the quiet. "To separate the Emperor's strength from the Empress's position. They believe if they can paint me as a weakness, a foreign point of failure, the people's faith will fracture."
General Zeraf slammed a fist on the map. "Then we show them their error in steel and fire! We scour the passes until not a rat remains in those tunnels."
"And prove their point?" Luciana asked, turning her amethyst eyes on the general. "That your new empire is ruled by the same brutal, reactive impulse as the old? That the mere mention of my blood is enough to send the imperial war machine into a rage?" She shook her head slowly. "No. That is the response they are counting on."
Erebus watched her, his fury banked into a cold, focused intensity. "You have a different calculus."
"I do." She met his gaze. "They asked if I bleed. They want a spectacle of violence to answer. So we give them a different spectacle." She looked back at the council. "The public presentation of the heirs. We move the date forward. To tomorrow."
Minister sputtered. "Tomorrow? Empress, the logistics, the security—"
"Will be handled," Erebus interrupted, his eyes never leaving Luciana. He understood her strategy now. "We do not hide. We stand in the open, in the heart of the capital, with our children between us. We show a united front, not a fortified one."
"It is a risk," Lord Ciaran said, though his tone was more analytical than disapproving.
"Everything worth having is a risk," Luciana replied. "They are watching from the shadows, counting on fear. We will give them confidence. The confidence of a stable line, of a future. Let them see that their attempt to frighten us only brought the imperial family closer to the people."
Blake shifted. "The security detail will need to be tripled. And we must assume an attempt."
"Of course," Erebus said, finally pushing back from the table. "But the attempt will not come from a bandit hiding in a tunnel. It will come from someone who believes the old ways were better. Someone in this city. Perhaps even in this fortress." His gaze swept the room, and several councilors looked away.
The unspoken accusation hung in the air. The old guard, those who had survived the purge and sworn new oaths, shifted uneasily.
"We proceed," Erebus decreed, his tone leaving no room for debate. "The presentation is tomorrow at noon. Blake, you and Alessio will redesign the security. Every window, every roof, every face in the crowd is to be accounted for. Lord Ciaran, have your alchemists prepare discreet counter-measures for poisons in the air, on the stone. I will not have my children breathing treachery."
He turned to Luciana. "A word in private."
The council dispersed in a hushed, urgent rush. In the now-empty chamber, the morning light through the stained glass painted Erebus in bloody hues.
"This is my fault," he said, the words stark. "My past. The blood I spilled to get here. It has seeped into the foundations, and now it threatens to stain you. To stain them."
Luciana stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, over the steady, fierce beat of his heart. "You built this empire from that blood, Erebus. You cannot apologize for its foundations. We can only decide what we build upon them now." She searched his face. "They called my father the Sun King. They said his light burned away all shadows. But shadows exist. You cannot burn them away; you must convince the people to step into the light willingly. Tomorrow, we give them a reason to."
He covered her hand with his own, his grip firm. "If they so much as look at you or the children with ill intent—"
"Then you will do what an emperor must," she finished for him, her voice steady. "But first, we do what a mother and father must. We show our sons what it means to rule without fear. Even when you are afraid."
He was silent for a long moment, then brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles—a gesture of fierce, possessive reverence. "Very well. We give them their spectacle." A sharp, dangerous edge returned to his voice. "And when the spectacle is over, and our children are safe behind these walls once more… I will find whoever wrote that message. And I will give them a personal, final answer to their question."
He released her hand, his expression shifting from husband back to Emperor. "Come. We have a performance to prepare. And our co-stars need their lines." A faint, grim smile touched his lips. "Nemesis will be thrilled. He loves a crowd."
Luciana allowed herself a small, real smile in return. "He does. But you must brief him. He cannot announce to the Forum that he will 'vanquish all the villains before supper.'"
"I will instruct him," Erebus said, offering his arm. "In the meantime, you should know… the messenger from the pass? He survived for a reason. He said the bandit leader wore a ring. A signet ring with a crest that was officially destroyed years ago."
She froze. "Whose crest?"
Erebus's eyes were like chips of frozen gold. "The Lord Governor of the Glacial Pass near Alaksad territory. The man I executed for treason the day before I took you as my wife and Nemesis as my heir."