I slammed the door shut, my heart hammering against my ribs for reasons that had nothing to do with the rebellion.
*Why didn't he lock the door?* I thought, staring at the polished wood and trying to erase the image of his bare, wet chest from my mind.
We had been married for years, but throughout that time, Eric had always maintained a careful, distant formality. He was always perfectly dressed, his buttons done up to the chin, as if he were afraid that a single exposed inch of skin would betray him. I’d never seen his body—not during the long nights of silence, and certainly not during the one night I’d been drunk enough to conceive Damian.
Seeing him like that now—vulnerable, dripping with water, and alarmingly muscular—was a provocation I wasn't prepared for. It made me forget my anger for a split second, replaced by a heat that made my face burn.
“I—I’ll come back later!” I stammered, reaching for the doorknob.
A large, warm hand covered mine, pinning it to the handle. I didn't have to turn around to know he was standing right behind me. I could feel the heat radiating from his body and the scent of soap and ozone.
“Cornelia.”
His voice was a low vibration that seemed to settle in my very bones. I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to look at him.
“Let go of my hand, Eric.”
“You came here because you had something to say,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over my ear. “Let’s sit and talk. I have things to tell you as well.”
***
Eric watched her back, his hand trembling on the doorknob.
He felt a surge of pure, irrational joy just from the fact that she had come to him first. *Maybe I’m not as disgusting to her as I thought,* he hoped. *Maybe there’s a piece of her that still wants to see me.*
But then he saw her flinch away, and a cold wave of anxiety washed over him. *Don't walk away,* he thought, his chest tightening. *Don't show me your back. That’s how it started last time.*
He wanted to wrap his arms around her and lock her in this room where the world couldn't reach them. He wanted to beg her to stay. But he knew if he did that, he would only prove he was the monster she thought he was.
“Move,” Cornelia snapped, her voice thick with annoyance.
Eric’s heart sank. “Is my presence so unbearable?”
“How can I have a serious conversation with a man who is half-naked?” she asked, still refusing to look at him. “Change your clothes, Eric. Immediately.”
Eric flushed, a wave of embarrassment crashing over him. He’d been so focused on her that he’d forgotten he was only in a bathrobe. He hurried toward the dressing room, his mind full of self-loathing.
He had spent his entire marriage hiding his slum-born origins behind silk and medals. He’d always been terrified she would see the scars on his back—the marks of a common soldier, not a noble—and realize she had married a pretender. And now, he’d shown her exactly what he was.
*She must find me hideous,* he thought as he pulled on a clean shirt and buttoned his vest with fumbling fingers. *Hideous and ridiculous.*
***
When Eric returned, he was fully dressed, every button in its place.
“So,” I said, finally able to look at his face without blushing. “What did you want to talk about?”
“You go first,” he said, sitting across from me.
“We’re leaving for the capital,” I said, getting straight to the point.
“The capital? Why now? The city is on the verge of collapse.”
“That doesn't concern you,” I said, my voice sharp. The Emperor’s health was a state secret. If the rebellion knew he was dying, they would strike tonight. “What does concern you is the promise you made. You said you’d do whatever I asked.”
Eric’s blue eyes darkened, but he didn't look away. “I did.”
“Then you will escort us anonymously. You will protect Damian in the capital, and you will stay by our side until I say otherwise.”
I expected him to negotiate. I expected him to demand a seat at the table or a share of the mines. Instead, Eric gave me a look of such calm, absolute devotion that it made my skin crawl.
“You’re asking for something that is already my duty,” he said. “I am your husband. Protecting you and the child is the only reason I’m still breathing. You don't need to 'ask' for what is already yours.”
I let out a hollow, sarcastic laugh. *Duty.*
If I had heard that word five years ago, I would have wept with joy. I would have believed him. But now, it was just another lie he used to keep his reputation intact.
“How reassuring,” I said, my voice dripping with venom. “The Grand Sword Master of the Empire will personally be our bodyguard. I suppose I should be honored.”
Eric lowered his gaze, his expression unreadable. I stood up, unable to breathe the same air as him for a second longer.
“We leave tomorrow afternoon,” I said, heading for the door. “Be ready.”
He grabbed my hand one last time as I passed. “Cornelia...”
“What?” I snapped, my voice like a lash.
He looked as if he wanted to say something—an apology, a plea, a truth—but the words died on his lips. He let go of my hand, his shoulders slumped in a way that almost made him look small.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “I’ll be ready.”
I left the room without looking back.
Eric stood by the window, watching the moonlight hit the gardens where she had built her new life. He knew **Archduke Reinhardt** was moving his pieces. The neutral nobles were already shifting, the support for Franz was evaporating, and the capital was a tinderbox.
*I know you hate me,* Eric thought, his blue eyes fixed on the lights of her room. *I know you plan to use me and then throw me away. But I don't care. I will stay by your side until the world burns, even if you never look at me again.*