Chapter 31
Zora
Three weeks have passed since Nico dropped me home from Elysian Haven, and life has gradually slipped back into its familiar routine.
Most of my days are spent moving from one meeting to the next, reviewing contracts, approving reports, and dealing with the countless responsibilities that come with running the Krogen Empire.
Preparations for my coronation continue in the background, while the business itself carries on much as it always has.
It should be enough to occupy every waking moment. Most days, it is. Today... not so much.
I stare at the financial report lying open on my desk, my eyes following numbers that refuse to register in my mind. I've been reading the same page for the past five minutes without absorbing a single word.
Annoyed with myself, I close the file and lean back in my chair.
This is unlike me. I've always been good at compartmentalizing. Work stays at work. Personal matters stay exactly where they belong. Locked away somewhere they can't interfere with my judgment. It has been one of the few things I've always been able to rely on.
Lately, however…
My thoughts have developed an irritating habit of wandering toward the same person. The realization still catches me off guard every time it happens.
Three weeks isn't a long time. Although we haven't seen each other since leaving Elysian Haven together, we somehow never completely stopped talking.
Our conversations are rarely long. Nico has been away on a mission.
He never tells me where he is or what he's doing, and I never ask.
Sometimes he'll disappear for a day before replying. Sometimes longer.
Yet somehow, no matter where he is in the world, he always finds a reason to send one completely unnecessary message. Usually just to annoy me.
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips as I unlock my phone and scroll through our conversation. Yesterday's messages are still near the top.
Nico: Elf, you better not be working yourself to death.
I remember rolling my eyes the moment I read it.
Me: Weren't you supposed to be busy saving the world or whatever it is you do?
His reply arrives less than a minute later.
Nico: Saving the world is above my pay grade. I'm more in the business of making bad people have very bad days.
Me: That's a surprisingly polite way of saying you kill people.
Nico: I was trying not to alarm you.
Me: I'm more concerned that you're probably hiding in a bush somewhere eating military rations.
Nico: You forgot the mosquitoes.
Me: Try not to get shot.
Nico: I'll make no promises.
Even now, I can't stop the small smile that finds its way onto my face.
Our conversations are ridiculous. Half of them consist of sarcasm, pointless arguments. The other half... Well! They're not really about anything important either. Yet somehow they've become one of the few moments in my day that I genuinely look forward to.
I lock my phone before setting it beside my laptop.
Somewhere over the past three weeks, checking whether Nico had sent another sarcastic message became as routine as checking my emails. Sometimes it was a picture of terrible coffee. Other times it was a joke about me working too much.
I sigh and force my attention back to the paperwork. The empire isn't going to rebuild itself because I'm distracted by an extraction specialist with an unhealthy talent for irritating me.
He's away on a mission, and we still exchange the occasional message whenever he can. That should be enough. Instead, I catch myself wondering where he is before shaking the thought away. I have a coronation to prepare for and an empire to run.
A knock against the office door finally pulls me away from my thoughts.
"Come in."
The door opens, and Erin walks inside carrying several folders tucked beneath one arm along with a stack of design boards balanced against her hip.
"I need your opinion on something." She says as she sets everything down across my desk. "Actually... several things."
Without looking up properly, I reach for the nearest folder. "I trust you completely, Erin. You don't need my approval for every small decision."
She folds her arms. "Normally, I'd agree."
I hum distractedly, still pretending to read the report I'd already failed to concentrate on twice.
"But this isn't a charity gala or another corporate fundraiser."
When I don't respond, she gently slides the report out from beneath my hand.
I finally look up.
She raises one eyebrow. "This is your coronation party, Zora. It celebrates you officially becoming the head of the Krogen Empire." A small smile appears on her face. "I'd say that earns you the right to have opinions."
I sigh before leaning back in my chair. "Fair point."
She pulls one of the presentation boards closer before laying it flat across the desk. "Now... can I actually show you what I've spent the last two weeks working on?"
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. "All right." I gesture toward the boards. "Show me what you've got."
For the next hour, Erin walks me through the final preparations for my coronation. We review the venue layout, seating arrangements, security plans, and the last of the design concepts before settling on the remaining details. By the time she closes the folder, there's very little left to finalize.
She gathers the papers into a neat stack and rises from her chair. "I'll have the updated schedule sent over tonight."
"Perfect."
After Erin leaves, I remain seated for a moment, my gaze lingering on the closed office door before drifting toward the phone beside my laptop.
Almost without thinking, I reach for it and open my conversation with Nico. My thumb hovers over the keyboard as I consider the wording longer than I probably should. I don't want it to sound like an obligation. I don't even want him to realize how much I'd like him to be there.
Eventually, I type.
The coronation party is next weekend. If you're free, you should come.
I read the message one last time before pressing send. But the reply never comes.
The rest of the afternoon slips by in a blur of meetings, contracts, and phone calls, yet every so often, I find myself checking our conversation again. Still nothing.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I unlock my phone once more and type another message.
I hope you can make it.
I press send before I have the chance to delete it.
Once again, the conversation remains unchanged.
I set my phone back with a quiet sigh. He's away on a mission. He warned me his replies would be unpredictable, and I know better than to expect an immediate response. Even so, I can't help hoping that the next time my phone lights up, it'll be him.