The Villainess Wants To Retire

Chapter 592: Anxiety

The hour was a hollow, echoing thing. Before the first bruise of dawn could stain the horizon, the Frozen Court was a tomb of silent stone.

Saoren moved through the imperial chambers with the practiced, soundless precision of a man who had spent half his life in war camps.

He was already dressed in his heavy traveling furs, the white wool and leather creaking faintly as he adjusted his gauntlets.

He was trying to leave before she opened her eyes.

He knew the geometry of her face too well. He knew that if he had to look at her amber eyes and see the specific, jagged weight of a farewell, his resolve would soften.

He was not certain he could walk out of the door if he stayed long enough to witness the moment her composure cracked.

In the dim light, the room smelled of cedar and the fading scent of the hearth.

Eris’s breathing was a slow, rhythmic anchor in the silence. Her white hair was a shock of starlight spread across the silk of the pillow, one hand resting protectively over the slight curve of her stomach even in the depths of sleep.

Soren stopped at the edge of the bed. He allowed himself one look. Just one.

Just once, and then I go.

But the world rarely respects the plans of men.

Eris opened her eyes. She did not startle; she did not gasp. She simply looked at him, already dressed, already packed, already standing at the threshold of departure.

She read the room in a single heartbeat, her eyes tracking from his boots to the heavy cloak pinned at his shoulder.

She said nothing.

She rose without a word, her movements fluid and unhurried. She did not say that she had been waiting for this, that she had known his nature well enough to anticipate the silent exit.

She crossed the room, the hem of her nightgown whispering against the floor, and stopped inches from him.

She took his face in both hands, mirroring the way he had held her the night before.

She kissed him, a slow, deliberate press of lips that began as a goodbye and transformed into something neither of them had the vocabulary to name. It was a desperate, grasping thing.

When they separated, the air between them was thin and charged.

Eris kept her hands at his jaw, her thumbs tracing the line of his beard. Her eyes were wide, managing a tidal wave of memory, the last time he had disappeared into the dark, the void, the soul-crushing days of not knowing if he was dead or simply gone.

She did not voice her worries. She did not need to.

"Come back soon," she said. It was too quiet to be a command, yet too fierce to be a mere request.

Soren looked down at her, seeing the anxiety running like a live wire beneath her royal composure. This was the woman who had survived the burning of Solmire and the treachery of the Long Dark, and yet she was terrified of the silence he was about to leave behind.

He covered her hands with his own. "I will come back. No matter what." He spoke with the flat, terrifying honesty he reserved for the battlefield. "You are not doing this alone. Not any of it. Not the three of them. Not the empire. I will always come back to you, even if I have to crawl all the way."

Eris took a sharp, shuddering breath. Then, she did something that surprised them both.

She threw her arms around him, burying her face against the heavy fur of his chest. It wasn’t an elegant embrace.

It wasn’t the poised farewell of an Empress. It was a raw, primal holding, the specific way a person clings to something they are afraid the wind might carry away.

Her hands mapped the span of his back, then his shoulders, as if her fingers could memorize the physical reality of him to sustain her through the coming weeks.

Something in her wanted to scream the questions: Can you not go? Is the mission not for a lesser man? Can you not just stay?

But she had seen his eyes. She knew that look, the immovable determination that had kept Nevareth from falling. He was going for her. He was going for them.

She held him for a moment longer, a heartbeat of pure, unadulterated need, and then she released him.

Before Soren straightened, he lowered himself to one knee.

He placed his large hands over her stomach. Three lives were shifting there, tiny pulses of potential making themselves known against his palms. He didn’t look at Eris; he looked at the place where his future was growing.

"Be gentle with your mother," he said. His voice was low and resonant, carrying the weight of an imperial decree. It was the way he spoke when he expected the universe to obey him. ƒrēewebnovel.com

Something shifted beneath his touch.

Soren felt it, a sudden, shimmering surge of magic. Three distinct signatures, small and bright, answered his own. It was the way a tidal pool feels the pull of the moon. His own ice magic, ancient and cold, met the warmth of their budding power and simply listened.

He stayed there a moment longer than he had intended, his head bowed. Come back, he told himself. That is the only mission that matters. Come back to this.

He rose, kissed Eris one last time with a sudden, sharp urgency, and then a knock came in that signaled the preparations were done. Together they walked out of the chambers and into the grey light of a world that was waiting to be saved.

The courtyard was a study in shadows and frost.

Aldric stood with agonizing precision, his back as straight as a spear, hands clasped behind him. Even at this ungodly hour, he held a stack of papers. His composure was a moral stance, a refusal to let the "irregular circumstances" of another border journey dampen his professionalism.

Ryse stood beside him, watching the young man with an expression of quiet delight. "Are those organized by region or urgency?" Ryse asked softly.

"Both," Aldric replied without blinking.

"Of course they are," Ryse murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Someone has to maintain standards," Aldric said, though there was a small pause before his next words. "Even when the situation is... irregular."

He didn’t mention the three times he had refiled the incident reports from the Emperor’s disappearance because the words hadn’t felt heavy enough to describe the loss.

Mira stood slightly apart from the men. Her attention was fixed entirely on Eris, who had followed the party down to the courtyard. Mira saw the Empress’s straight back and the way her hands were folded with iron-tight control. She also saw the way Eris’s eyes never left Soren’s back.

She is frightened, Mira thought. Her Majesty is terrified.

She felt a gaze pressing on her and turned to see Ryse watching her. He waved and stepped toward her, a soft smile breaking his rugged features. "Don’t worry about her," he said, nodding toward Eris. "She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever seen."

"It’s precisely because she’s so strong that I’m worried," Mira replied, her voice tight. "Strong people don’t know how to break until it’s too late."

Ryse’s expression softened. "Soren will keep his promise. He’ll return at all costs. Those two... they’re inseparable now. The world doesn’t know how to keep them apart."

Mira felt a flicker of ease at his words. She looked up at him, her face warming. "Be careful yourself," she whispered. "I... I would prefer it if the whole party returned intact."

Ryse could barely hide the flash of affection in his eyes. "I’m glad you worry for me, Mira. I’ll keep my head down."