Chapter 5 - My Wife
Achilles
The sun is already sinking.
It bleeds across the horizon in slow, deliberate strokes of gold and red, catching on the edges of the manor and the surrounding land like something unwilling to let go of the day. The light stretches long through the windows, casting shadows that move as if they belong to something alive.
And Ophelia is gone.
Of course she is.
I knew she would be the moment her feet touched the ground.
Elias's home is not a place one simply walks through.
It is a place one gets lost in intentionally, repeatedly, and often without realizing it until it is too late.
I hated it as a child. Still do. The structure makes no sense.
Corridors twist where they should not. Doors lead to rooms that serve no purpose.
Entire wings exist because Elias once thought it would be amusing.
Savannah is not a manor.
It is a maze with furniture.
And Ophelia...
Ophelia is curious.
That alone guarantees I will not see her for hours.
Four, if I'm being generous.
I don't bother sending anyone to find her.
If she gets lost, she will enjoy it.
If she finds something strange, she will examine it.
If she ends up somewhere she shouldn't be, she will apologize to the room before leaving.
And if anyone interferes—
I will deal with it.
For now, I let her have it.
The silence she has earned.
The freedom she asked for.
The space to exist somewhere that does not demand anything from her.
That alone is worth tolerating this place.
I had to turn Elias's office into something usable.
That, at least, was always predictable. He keeps one room in this entire house that functions as it should a space with a desk that is actually meant to be used, shelves that hold documents instead of decorative nonsense, and windows placed for light rather than aesthetic confusion.
I push open the door without knocking and step inside, already cataloging what needs to be moved, adjusted, or discarded.
It smells like him.
Wine, paper, and poor decisions.
I set my things down anyway.
For the next month, this becomes mine.
Documents are unpacked with methodical precision. Reports from the capital. Letters that require my attention. Trade agreements that Elias will undoubtedly mishandle if left unattended. He is capable, but he is also Elias, which means he will prioritize what interests him and ignore what does not.
As I work, the world narrows.
Ink. Paper.
It always does.
It is easier this way.
Easier than thinking about how quiet the manor feels without her in the room. Easier than noticing that my hand has stilled more than once because I am listening for footsteps that are not there. Easier than acknowledging that I know exactly how long it will take before I start looking for her.
A knock sounds against the door.
Sharp.
Measured.
"Enter."
The door opens.
Alexis carries a box in her hands, posture perfect, expression arranged into something composed and neutral in a way that tells me she has been preparing for this moment. She crosses the room without hesitation and sets the box where I gesture without asking.
"Your Majesty."
I incline my head once.
"That will be all."
She does not leave. Of course, she doesn't.
"May I ask you something?"
I do not look up from the document in front of me.
"You just did."
"How long do you plan to keep this one?"
My pen stills.
Just once.
Barely.
Then continues.
"As long as my wife is willing to stay with me." The answer is simple.
Final.
She exhales softly, stepping closer than necessary. "I didn't expect you to be into that kind of woman." I look at her because I understand exactly what she means.
And I do not like it.
"Explain."
She tilts her head slightly, as if considering how far she can push before I push back harder.
"Your wife," she says, voice lowering just enough to try and make it sound like familiarity, like something shared. "She's not... what I expected for you."
"No?"
"She's... bold," Alexis continues, choosing her words carefully. "The way she dresses. The way she moves. She draws attention. Men notice her. She knows they do." I lean back in the chair.
Watching her.
"She will use it," Alexis adds, softer now. "Women like that always do."
Women like that. I almost laugh.
Not because it is funny, but because it is predictable.
"I would be careful," I say quietly, "about making judgments on things you do not understand." Her mouth curves slightly.
"I understand enough."
"No," I reply, my voice still level. "You don't."
moving the pen between my fingers.
Fully now.
Because this has crossed from curiosity into something else.
"You saw her," I continue. "And decided what she was. Without speaking to her. Without knowing her. Without bothering to consider that what you see may not be what she is."
Alexis watches me closely.
"And what is she?" she asks.
I don't hesitate.
"She is my wife." That is the only answer that matters. Her lips part slightly, as if to say something more. I don't give her the chance. "And you will not reduce her to something smaller than that because it is easier for you to understand."
My tone sharpens.
Just enough.
She shifts her weight, something flickering behind her composure now.
"You used to prefer women who were..." she trails off.
"Like you?" I supply.
She doesn't deny it.
"Yes."
"we a had flings." I have never hidden that. "That was exactly what it was. Nothing more. Nothing that mattered beyond the moment it existed in."
Her gaze searches my face.
"And now?"
"Now," I say simply, "I am married." There is no room for interpretation in that. No gray. No flexibility.
"I take my vows seriously," I continue, my voice lowering. "I always have." She exhales quietly. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't expect anything from you," I reply. "I'm telling you how it is as long as i am married, my wife will be the only woman in my life ." Her expression tightens. "Because I have enough sins to answer for already," I add, my tone colder now. "I don't need to add betrayal to the list."
Silence settles between us.
She steps closer.
Too close.
"I think you're lying to yourself," she murmurs.
Her hand lifts.
Attempting to touch my arm before i move, using the pen in my hand, piercing through her hands and embedding in the desk.
Her breath catches sharply as I watch her struggle not to scream. "Do not try to touch me ."
I lean forward, looking at her as i pull the pen out.
"If you do it again," I continue, "I will remove your hands ."
I mean it. She knows I mean it.
She pulls it back quickly, "I didn't..."
"I don't care what you didn't do."
"I tolerated your presence," I say, each word measured. "Because you run this house well. Because Elias trusts you. Because you have not given me a reason to do otherwise."
My gaze locks onto hers.
"You are very close to giving me one now."
"I wasn't..."
"You were."
I cut her off because I have no patience for this. "You were testing boundaries that do not exist for you to test."
My voice hardens.
"You were speaking about my wife as if you have the right to form an opinion on her."
"And try touched me without permision"
Her breath stutters.
"You will address my wife with respect," I continue. "Or you will not address her at all."
She swallows.
"You should also understand something very clearly," I add, quieter now.
"My wife's happiness is not one of many priorities.
" My gaze doesn't waver. "It is the only one that matters.
Everything else, this kingdom, the alliances, the power All of it comes second.
And if she so much as thinks someone is a problem. .."
My voice drops.
"...I will remove them."
Alexis nods.
Once.
Quickly.
The movement was tight, controlled, stripped of everything that had been there when she first walked in.
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"Leave."