Edric held Lyanna carefully as she leaned against him, her strength momentarily drained—not from passion, but from emotional turmoil.

  She did not resist when he guided her toward the washroom. The sound of running water filled the silence between them as he adjusted the temperature and stepped back, giving her space while remaining near enough to steady her if she faltered.

  The water cascading over her seemed to wake her from her daze.

  Lyanna’s eyes slowly lifted to meet his. Conflict churned within them—guilt, anger, longing, fear.

  Edric said nothing. He simply handed her a towel once she finished, his movements composed and deliberate.

  By the time they returned to the bedroom, both were dressed again. The air felt colder now.

  Lyanna avoided his gaze.

  Her posture straightened, her physician’s composure returning like armor sliding back into place.

  “Prince,” she said finally, her tone controlled. “We need to talk.”

  Edric allowed a flicker of vulnerability to cross his face.

  “What happened tonight,” she continued, clenching her fist at her side, “was a mistake. I am a married woman. This cannot continue.”

  “Lyanna—”

  “No.” Her voice sharpened. “It will not happen again. And I expect you to keep this matter private.”

  He lowered his gaze, as though wounded.

  “You have my word,” he replied quietly.

  She relaxed slightly at that.

  “Good. Then please… leave.”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  He paused at the door.

  When he turned back, his crimson eyes were steady once more.

  “I won’t forget,” he said softly.

  Then he left.

  Lyanna stood motionless long after the door closed.

  Her mind spiraled in contradiction.

  She loved her husband.

  Didn’t she?

  Yet the memory of Edric’s intensity lingered—not physical, but emotional. The way he looked at her. The way he spoke as if she were indispensable.

  Her breath hitched.

  She pressed a hand to her forehead.

  “It was a mistake,” she whispered to herself. “You are married.”

  But the doubt remained.

  And beneath it—

  Fear.

  Not only of being discovered.

  But of what she had awakened within herself.

  Edric did not return directly to the Valemont wing of the palace.

  Instead, he walked the quiet corridors beneath the dim glow of enchanted sconces. His expression had already shed its softness.

  Akashic Sight activated silently.

  Invisible threads of awareness expanded outward, mapping presences, tracing movements, identifying his target.

  Ronan Blackmere.

  The captain of the imperial guard was stationed near the eastern courtyard, reviewing patrol assignments.

  Edric approached without hesitation.

  Ronan stiffened upon seeing him.

  “Your Highness,” Ronan said stiffly.

  Edric offered a faint smile but did not bow his head.

  “I heard,” Edric began casually, “that the captain struggled during this morning’s sparring session.”

  Ronan’s jaw tightened.

  “My performance is not a matter for gossip.”

  “Of course,” Edric replied smoothly. “Though I wonder whether someone unable to dominate the fifth layer should truly oversee palace security.”

  The insult was subtle—but cutting.

  Ronan’s hand instinctively moved toward the sword at his side.

  Edric’s eyes shifted.

  Cold.

  Silent.

  Deadly.

  In that instant, an overwhelming pressure descended.

  Ronan froze.

  It wasn’t magic in the traditional sense. It was presence—refined killing intent honed through countless unseen battles. A reminder of the gap between them.

  Sweat formed along Ronan’s brow.

  Edric stepped closer, lowering his voice.

  “You guard the emperor,” he said quietly. “Ensure you are worthy of the role.”

  Then he walked past him.

  Ronan remained motionless long after Edric disappeared down the corridor.

  The memory of those eyes—

  Disdainful.

  Unmoved.

  Certain.

  A seed had been planted.

  Not doubt in his skill.

  But fear.

  From that night forward, whenever Ronan heard the name Edric Valemont, a subtle chill would crawl down his spine.

  And that was precisely the point.

  In her chambers, Lyanna stared at the ceiling.

  In the courtyard, Ronan questioned his strength.

  And somewhere within the palace walls, the heir of the Valemont Family allowed himself a faint, calculated smile.

  One piece had wavered.

  Another had cracked.

  The game within the Eldoria Imperium was advancing.

  And fear—

  Was often more powerful than love.