Scene: Later that Night — Chris' POV
The chamber was dark now.
No candles.
No guards.
No wine.
Just silence and the quiet thrum of guilt crawling beneath my skin.
I had ordered Darius' death without blinking. A necessary act—at least, that's what I told myself. But Amara's face as she walked out…
It lingered.
It haunted.
I paced the floor of my chamber, the same floor that had seen vows whispered, bodies intertwined, blood spilled, and now… a divide I hadn't meant to open.
I needed her.
But I couldn't need her more than I needed control.
Not again.
Still, I couldn't shake it. That burning in my chest wasn't pride. It wasn't even grief. It was the sound of a gunshot echoing in the silence between us. And I pulled the trigger.
I tapped the console on the wall.
> "Bring her to me," I said to the guard. "No commands. No force. Just tell her I… request her presence."
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Fifteen.
The doors opened quietly.
She stepped in.
No armor. No heels. Just a long dark robe and bare feet. Her hair down. No makeup. Just her. Raw.
I didn't know whether to run to her or fall to my knees.
She stood there, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
I tried to speak with strength, but it came out tired. "You came."
"I almost didn't," she said simply.
I nodded. "I wouldn't blame you."
Silence stretched.
Then I added, "I want to fix this."
Her brow arched slightly. "Fix what, Chris? The bullet you put in a man who would've died for me? The fear running through the palace? Or the fact that your wife is now watched more closely than your enemies?"
I swallowed hard. "I didn't mean for it to go this far. I needed to show strength."
"You showed weakness," she said coldly. "And now you're bleeding under the crown."
That stung more than I let on.
I took a breath and stepped closer.
"You told me once," I said softly, "that love in the empire is war. I didn't understand it then. I do now."
She didn't speak.
I reached out, but didn't touch her. My hand hovered near her arm, waiting.
"I miss you," I said quietly.
She looked up at me, not with fire—but exhaustion.
"Then stop ruling me," she said. "And let me rule with you."
Finally, I reached her hand. She didn't pull away.
I leaned closer. "One step at a time?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded once.
"Good," I whispered, more to myself than her. "Because if I lose you… I lose the last part of me that's human."
She didn't smile.
But she didn't walk away.