Chapter 73

chapter of their reign.

For others, it was nothing short of treason. A human queen? Aeliana had won battles, had commanded armies, but in the eyes of many nobles, she would always be an outsider, an intruder sitting on a throne that was never meant to be hers. The court was split, but it did not matter. Tharx had spoken. The empire would obey.

The moment Aeliana stepped into the war chamber, she felt the weight of the decision. The room was littered with scrolls and documents, military reports detailing border threats and supply chains, as if Tharx were preparing for battle rather than a wedding. She should have expected it.

Tharx stood over the largest map, golden eyes skimming through details of territory disputes. Even on the eve of his own wedding, he was preparing for war.

Aeliana stepped beside him, her fingers resting lightly on the table. "I expected to find you making preparations."

"I am," Tharx replied, not looking up.

"For the wedding?"

"For the empire."

She sighed, shaking her head. "The wedding is part of the empire, Tharx. You could at least pretend to care."

At that, he finally lifted his gaze, studying her with an intensity that sent heat curling through her chest. "This is not a political arrangement for me, Aeliana," he said, his voice quiet but absolute.

She frowned slightly, caught off guard by the seriousness in his tone.

"This is not about securing alliances. This is not about pleasing the court," he continued, stepping closer. His fingers brushed over her wrist, a small touch, but full of restrained fire. "This is about you."

She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how close he was. Tharx was not a man who expressed emotion easily, but when he did, it was with unwavering certainty. He was not marrying her because it was expected, or because it was wise. He was marrying her because he wanted her. Because, in his mind, she already belonged to him.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine, but she didn't pull away.

Instead, she let herself lean into the moment, into him.

The palace was transformed into something out of legend. Gold and crimson banners were raised along the towering walls, and torches lined the streets leading to the citadel, set to burn through the night. The empire had seen countless ceremonies-coronations, executions, victories-but nothing like this.

Aeliana knew what the court expected of her. They wanted a ceremony of delicate lace and whispered vows, of noble daughters chosen to stand at her side, of a queen who would bow her head and play her role.

But she was not a noble lady.

She was a warrior. And this wedding would reflect that.

When it came time to choose her attendants, she rejected the list of noblewomen presented to her. Instead, she selected warriors-women who had fought beside her, those who had earned their place in battle. Vaelkor, her closest ally in the court, smirked when he heard her decision.

"You know you're scandalizing half the empire?" he mused, handing her a scroll listing the ceremonial details.

"I'd be more worried if I wasn't," she replied, barely glancing at the list before tossing it aside.

Vaelkor sighed dramatically. "You should at least pretend to care about tradition."

Aeliana met his gaze, unwavering. "I'm starting my own traditions."

Tharx was no different. When the court presented him with wedding arrangements, he dismissed them outright. No one would dictate his ceremony, least of all the nobles who had spent years scheming against him. He wanted nothing delicate, nothing soft. Their wedding would be a declaration-of power, of dominance, of inevitability.

The night before the wedding, the palace was alive with festivities. The streets of the capital were filled with celebration, music and firelight stretching across the city. Nobles drank themselves into oblivion, commoners cheered, warriors prepared for the grand spectacle that would come at dawn.

Aeliana, however, could not sleep.

She stood in the quiet halls of the palace, the distant sounds of revelry reaching her ears, her thoughts drifting. She should have felt something-excitement, nervousness, anticipation. But all she felt was an undercurrent of tension, a whisper of something not quite right.

And then she heard it.

A footstep, too soft, too careful.

Her body moved before her mind caught up. She spun just as a shadow lunged from the darkness, blade flashing in the dim torchlight.

Aeliana twisted out of the way, the knife slicing through empty air where her throat had been a second before. The assassin recovered quickly, striking again, but this time, she was ready.

She caught his wrist, forcing the blade away, then drove her knee into his ribs. The man grunted, but he was trained-far better than the others who had come for her before.

He shoved her back, creating space, his next strike aimed lower, precise. Aeliana dodged, but her balance was off. He saw the opening and lunged-

She grabbed the dagger from her belt and buried it in his side.

The assassin stiffened, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale. Aeliana wrenched the blade free, stepping back as he crumpled to the floor.

Blood pooled around him, the metallic scent thick in the air.

She did not tremble.

She did not hesitate.

She had changed.

She was no longer just a survivor.

She was the future.

The guards arrived moments later, but by then, she was already wiping the blood from her hands.

"Get rid of the body," she ordered, her voice cold. "And find out who sent him."

They hesitated for only a second before obeying.

The wedding took place at dawn.

Aeliana stood in the grand courtyard, the rising sun casting golden light across the empire. She wore no veil, no delicate jewels-only a gown of black and crimson, woven with the sigil of the empire, armor resting over her shoulders like a second skin.

Tharx stood across from her, dressed in ceremonial black, his golden eyes locked on hers. They did not need vows to know what this was. This was not a marriage of convenience or strategy.

This was war.

The High Priest spoke, the ancient words of the empire's wedding rites ringing through the courtyard. But Aeliana barely heard him. All she could see was Tharx, the way he watched her, the way his presence filled the space around them.

Then it was done.

Tharx stepped forward, and before the court, before the entire empire, he pulled her to him and kissed her. It was not soft. It was not careful. It was possession, fire, a claim. She met him with equal ferocity, knowing that this was only the beginning.

As they stood together, overlooking the empire that now belonged to them both, Tharx murmured against her lips, "You are not just my queen."

She smiled, her breath mingling with his.

"You are my war."

Aeliana's fingers curled into his tunic, a slow, wicked smile crossing her lips.

"Then let us burn together."