Chapter 68
The night air was crisp, cool against Aeliana's skin as she wandered the palace gardens. The stone pathways wound between towering hedges and intricate fountains, once beautiful but now shadowed, silent.
She moved without purpose, her thoughts heavy, her mind lingering on the events of court earlier that day.
She had won.
She had issued her decree, forced the nobles to kneel, made them understand that she would not be a queen in name only.
And yet
She felt nothing.
Not triumph. Not security.
Only emptiness.
As she walked, she became aware of whispers.
Not the nobles this time, but the servants.
She paused near a column, her body half-hidden in the shadows, and listened.
"she's not one of us."
"Too human."
"She holds power now, but how long before the emperor grows tired of her?"
Aeliana's fingers curled into fists.
She had expected resistance from the court, from those who wanted to see her fail.
But this?
This was the people.
She continued walking, keeping her steps silent, her ears sharp.
In the distance, more voices drifted through the garden paths.
"I heard she makes all the decisions now."
"That's what the nobles say, but the emperor still holds the real power."
"She's beautiful, but she's not one of us. She never will be."
Aeliana inhaled slowly, willing herself to stay calm.
But the truth was suddenly, painfully clear.
No one trusted her.
Not the court.
Not the palace.
Not even the people.
She had thought that ruling would mean earning respect. That by proving herself in court, she would win them over.
But they didn't want to be ruled by her.
They tolerated her because they had to.
And that realization sank into her bones like ice.
She left the garden before anyone could see her.
But she did not return to the palace.
She had a city to visit.
The cloak was rough against her skin, the hood low over her eyes.
The market streets of the capital hummed with life, filled with vendors shouting their wares, children running through the stalls, merchants bargaining with travelers.
Aeliana kept to the shadows, moving unnoticed through the crowd.
She needed to hear.
To see.
The nobles were one thing-power-hungry, entitled, unwilling to change.
But the people?
She needed to know if they feared her.
Or if it was only Tharx who commanded their terror.
She drifted toward a stall where two women stood, their baskets full of dried fruit.
"The emperor has been holding court more frequently," one of them murmured.
The other scoffed. "As if it matters. He still rules the same way. The same fear."
Aeliana stilled.
The first woman hesitated. "Some say it is different now. Some say the queen-"
"The queen is a human," the second woman interrupted, voice sharp. "She thinks she understands us, but she doesn't. She was chosen by the emperor, not by us."
"She has tried to change things," the first woman said, a little softer now.
The second woman shook her head. "You think she has power? The emperor lets her think she does. But in the end, he still holds the blade."
Aeliana stepped back, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
She had not expected love from the people.
But she had not expected this, either.
They didn't fear her.
They feared him.
She wandered farther into the city, listening, watching.
Everywhere, it was the same.
Whispers of fear.
Not of war. Not of rebels.
Of their own ruler.
And her.
She was not a beacon of hope.
She was a symbol of his control.
Aeliana had seen what fear could do.
It made men obedient. It made them bow, made them kneel.
But it did not make them loyal.
And an empire built on fear alone?
It was a kingdom waiting to collapse.
She returned to the palace long after the torches had been lit.
Her cloak was heavy with dust, the scent of the city still clinging to her.
She walked straight to Tharx's chambers.
He was inside, standing near the massive map of the empire spread over his war table. The golden glow of the lanterns cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the strength in his jaw, the quiet intensity in his eyes.
He did not look surprised to see her.
"You're late," he murmured, eyes never leaving the map.
"I was in the city."
At that, he finally looked at her.
A pause. His golden gaze flickered over her, taking in the dust on her cloak, the tension in her shoulders.
"You went alone?" His voice was even. Controlled.
"I needed to see."
Tharx's expression didn't change, but she knew him well enough now to see the shift in his eyes.
"You needed to see what?"
Aeliana walked toward him, stopping just a breath away.
"That they don't trust me."
Tharx exhaled, not looking away. "They will."
"No," she said sharply. "They won't. Because this empire-**your empire-**has only ever known one thing."
She held his gaze, her voice unwavering.
"Fear."
Something flickered in his eyes.
Aeliana inhaled. "They don't trust me. But they don't trust you either."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, he tilted his head slightly, studying her.
"You think I should make them love me?"
Aeliana let out a sharp breath. "I think you should be more than a conqueror."
Tharx was very still.
"You need to be their king."
The words hung between them.
Aeliana knew what she was asking.
Tharx had ruled with fire and blood, had made his name through brutality and war.
And she was asking him to be something else.
He did not answer immediately.
But she saw it-the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
And when she finally turned to leave, he did not stop her.
The next day, the court gathered.
Aeliana sat on the throne beside Tharx, watching, waiting.
And then-
He changed.
It was small at first. A shift in the way he listened, the way he weighed decisions differently.
A noble approached with a plea for justice-a matter that would have once been met with immediate punishment.
But Tharx did not reach for his sword.
He did not demand blood.
He listened.
And in that moment, Aeliana knew.
She had not won the court.
She had not won the people.
But she had won him.
And that was enough to change everything.