[Lavinia's POV—Imperial Palace—Two Months Later]
After the execution of all the traitors, the empire finally found peace.
New nobles were appointed. Old wounds were stitched with law and fire, and somehow—between councils, parchments, and sleepless nights—two months vanished like smoke.
Now, the night before my coronation had arrived.
The bells of Eloria had been ringing for weeks at dawn, not in warning, not in fear. But in triumph.
Their sound rolled through the capital like waves of gold, washing over streets that had once whispered treason and now shouted loyalty.
The world was preparing for its Empress.
And me?
I was standing in my chamber, half-dressed, lost in thought—PUSH.
I gasped as Haldor suddenly shoved me backward onto the mattress. The soft sheets caught me, and before I could protest, his shadow fell over me.
He lifted my legs slightly as he stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous with emotion, "Do you need to drive me insane every time you appear, Lavi?"
