The great bell of Obsidiana boomed seven times. Its vibration traveled through the granite floor, penetrated the soles of Elara's shoes, and was felt all the way to her shinbones. Inside the spacious room in the west wing, four servants moved in forced silence. They were changing the bed sheets with silk that was slick and cold black.
Martha stood near the large door, her hands folded in front of her stomach. Her eyes monitored every movement of those servants as if they were sabotage suspects.
"Call me Empress," Elara said.
She was standing in front of a bronze mirror. Her voice wasn't loud, but enough to stop the hand movements of the servant who was removing her silver belt.
The servant fell silent for a moment. Her head bowed deeper until her chin touched her chest. "Yes, Your Majesty the Empress."
Elara saw her reflection. Her heavy gown was removed piece by piece, leaving a thin, stiff silk undergown. The obsidian ring on her finger appeared prominent, a black stone that didn't reflect the oil lamp light on the wall.
"Remove all those lilies," Elara pointed to a large vase in the corner of the room. "The aroma is too sharp. It makes me nauseous."
"That's a gift from Lady Lyra to welcome your first night, Your Majesty," Martha responded from her position.
"Discard it," Elara ordered shortly. "Now."
Two servants immediately carried the vase out. When the door opened, the sound of military boots marching in the corridor was clearly audible. The guards outside weren't just standing; they were pacing with a steady rhythm.
The large door opened again. Kaelen entered.
His leather boots struck the floor with a solid, heavy thud. The servants immediately threw themselves to the floor, prostrating before rushing out soundlessly. Martha bowed stiffly, then pulled the double doors closed with the sound of heavy wooden booming.
Kaelen didn't speak immediately. He walked to the small table near the window, poured water into a crystal glass, and drank it dry. The glass was placed back down with a sharp clinking sound. He wiped his face, revealing red marks from the pressure of his stiff uniform collar.
"This room is your territory," Kaelen said. His voice was hoarse from exhaustion. "Your logistics are already separated. Food, water, and new cloth will go through Martha's personal inspection before reaching your hands."
Elara turned, her hands gripping the edge of the vanity table. "Then where will you be? The council of ministers and Lord Vane are counting minutes since you entered this room."
Kaelen walked closer, stopping two steps in front of Elara. "I have a room behind the library's wall panel. There's a secret door there. The guards only need to see me enter tonight. What we do after the door is locked is none of their business."
"A practical decision," Elara sat on the edge of the bed. "I also have no intention of sharing space with the man who destroyed my nation's sovereignty."
Kaelen snorted briefly. A sound almost resembling a dry laugh. He bent down, resting both hands on the bedpost, caging Elara in. Elara could smell steel, sweat, and remnants of rain from the man's clothing.
"Don't misunderstand, Elara," Kaelen's voice lowered, directly in front of her face. "Outside, you are my Empress. You will sit beside me at banquets, you will sign every tax decree for the Eastern territories, and you will stand before me when I receive state guests. But here, we are two strangers trapped in one contract. Don't interfere with my business, and I won't interfere with yours."
"And if Lady Lyra's faction attacks me?" Elara stared directly into Kaelen's dark irises. "Will you just watch silently as the woman you gave the Empress title is humiliated in public?"
Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "If you can't defend yourself from the verbal attacks of palace women, you won't last a single day facing generals at the border. I won't defend you in trivial matters. Build your own authority. If you need me to win every tea table debate, then you'll only become a burden to me."
Elara felt her pride stung. "I don't need your protection. I just want to make sure you won't obstruct me when I start breaking their political necks."
"Do as you please," Kaelen stood upright again. He straightened his slightly wrinkled uniform. "Tomorrow at nine in the morning, first tea banquet with the ministers' wives. That's your battlefield. Don't make procedural mistakes."
Kaelen turned, walking toward the wooden panel on the wall that looked like part of a bookshelf. He pressed one small section, and the panel opened with a smooth wooden scraping sound. He entered without looking back again.
The sound of a key turning from behind that panel rang out sharply in the silence.
***
The next morning, the atmosphere in the glass garden felt as cold as ice. Elara sat at the end of the long wooden table, facing Lady Lyra and ten other ministers' wives. No one stood when she entered. The clinking of silver spoons on expensive porcelain was the only sound there.
"Oh, Your Majesty," Lyra spoke after ignoring Elara for five minutes. Her tone was sweet yet sharp. "Forgive us, we didn't notice your presence. In Astapura, protocols are perhaps more... relaxed, so we didn't want to make you feel pressured by Obsidiana's complicated etiquette."
A woman beside Lyra laughed softly behind her fan.
Elara showed no anger. She took her teacup, feeling the heat of the liquid spreading to her palms. She set her cup back down with a very quiet sound, then looked directly into Lyra's eyes.
"Courtesy is a basic thing in Astapura, Lady Lyra," Elara's voice was clear and stable. "However, I just realized that in Valerion, age might affect cognitive function and memory. I assume you all didn't stand not because of rudeness, but because of health problems with your joints. Correct, isn't it?"
The atmosphere suddenly went silent. Lyra's hand holding the spoon froze in the air.
"I will order the palace physician to send balm to each of your residences this afternoon," Elara continued, her face remaining flat. "So that next time, your legs are strong enough to stand when the Empress enters the room. Because if not, I will assume you are too ill to attend any banquets in the future."
Lyra's teacup clinked loudly when placed back on her saucer. Her face reddened from the insult wrapped in false concern.
From the second-floor balcony facing the garden, Kaelen stood observing. His hands rested on the cold stone railing. He watched how Elara won control of that table without needing to shout. He didn't smile; he only turned his signet ring on his finger once, then turned and left.
Night fell again. Elara stood in her room, removing her heavy earrings in front of the mirror. Her earlobes were red and throbbing with pain. Kaelen entered only to place a leather folder on Elara's work table.
"You handled them well enough," Kaelen said briefly.
"I only did what was necessary to survive among your wolves," Elara answered.
"Good. Because starting tomorrow, the wolves will begin using sharper fangs," Kaelen said. He looked at Elara for a moment. A gaze difficult to interpret. Before disappearing behind the secret panel.
The sound of the key turning was heard again.
Elara stood alone. She walked to the bed and lay down on the cold black silk. She closed her eyes, but her ears caught sounds from outside the door.
The sound of chain mail scraping and guard footsteps pacing in the corridor. They never left. Elara gripped the edge of the bedsheet tightly. She was sleeping in the most luxurious cell in the world, confined by her own husband and watched by her enemies.
Elara stared at the darkness of the ceiling. Tomorrow, she would no longer wait to be attacked. She would begin designing the downfall of everyone who laughed at her today.