Chapter 26- A terrible plan
For a long moment after I finish speaking, no one says anything.
The silence stretches heavily through the office, thick with smoke from the hearth, candlelight, and the lingering metallic scent drifting from the bloodstained box still sitting in the center of Achille's desk like a wound no one knows how to close.
Outside the tall windows, the evening sky has darkened into deep blue-black, the last traces of daylight swallowed behind storm clouds gathering over the city.
The palace feels quieter tonight. Tense.
Like, even the walls understand something dangerous is approaching.
And in the middle of all of it
My husband is staring at me as though I have completely lost my mind.
His expression has moved beyond anger and settled somewhere between disbelief and personal betrayal.
I hold his gaze steadily anyway, though my pulse pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.
I still hate this.
Gods, I hate speaking in rooms like this.
Even now, after everything, some old frightened part of me still expects interruption the moment I raise my voice too much. I expect disapproval. Punishment. Someone is reminding me that women are meant to sit quietly while powerful men decide which lives are acceptable losses.
But I am not only a wife anymore.
I am not only a queen.
I am going to be someone's mother.
And suddenly silence feels less like kindness and more like cowardice.
"You want," Achille says slowly, carefully, "to invite foreign rulers into this palace..."
His voice is calm.
That is worse.
I nod once.
"After one of them sent us a severed head."
Another nod.
"And you believe this is a good idea."
I inhale slowly. "I believe it is a better idea than burying thousands of men before we know the truth."
The room remains still.
Levi looks relieved that someone else is finally speaking.
Nathaniel watches quietly from near the bookshelves, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Jacline looks stressed enough to develop permanent wrinkles before morning.
Veronica...
Veronica looks interested.
Which, honestly, is deeply concerning.
Achilles drags one hand slowly down his face.
"You are asking me," he says quietly, "to place you in danger."
I step toward him slowly.
"No," I whisper. "I'm asking you not to leave me alone in it."
Achille's expression shifts almost imperceptibly, but I see it because I have learned him now in ways I never thought possible. I know the exact moment when his anger becomes pain. I know the precise stillness that comes right before fear.
And I know my husband well enough to understand this entire argument has very little to do with politics anymore.
This is about me.
About our child.
About the unbearable possibility of losing either of us.
"You think I want to leave you?" he asks quietly.
"No."
"Then why are you implying it ?"
"Because war will take you away from me," I whisper.
"If you leave now," I say softly, "I will stay here alone while preparing to give birth. I manage Mayhern politics alone. I deal with nobles who already resent me alone. And every day I wait, wondering if the next rider arriving at the gates carries news that my husband is dead."
The words hurt to say aloud.
Because they are true.
I see the effect immediately in his face.
Not weakness.
Devastation.
Achilles survives violence easily.
The thought of me grieving him?
That destroys him.
Elias speaks before anyone else can.
"She's right."
Achilles looks at him sharply.
Elias doesn't back down.
Of course, he doesn't.
There is something almost paternal in the way he watches me now.
Protective in a way that has nothing to do with romance and everything to do with love.
Somewhere along the way, Elias decided I belonged to his family too, and now he guards me with the same reckless devotion he gives the rest of them.
He leans against the couch with his arms crossed, expression unusually serious beneath the humor.
"You ride into war now," he says quietly, "and you'll spend every single day terrified."
"I am already terrified."
"Yes," Elias replies. "But at least right now you're terrified where you can see her."
The room goes silent again.
"She's carrying your child," Elias continues more softly. "Would you really rather stand on some battlefield, wondering if she survived labor without you?"
Achilles's jaw tightens instantly.
"Because that's what will happen. Every messenger approaching the camp? You'll think it's news about her. Every delay in correspondence? You'll panic. Every nightmare? You'll wake up convinced something happened."
He exhales slowly.
"And you won't be able to focus, which will make you more careless, more vulnerable, which may lead to your death."
Veronica finally speaks next."I hate this plan."Achilles looks almost relieved.
"Thank you."
"But," Veronica continues calmly, "it's the best one for now ."
His relief dies immediately.
Veronica sighs heavily and pushes away from the table, dark eyes settling on me with reluctant approval.
"Your wife," she says flatly, "has somehow managed to create a diplomatic trap disguised as a royal celebration.
" She gestures lazily toward the maps spread across the "If someone truly manipulated this situation, forcing every ruler involved into one place removes distance as protection.
No hidden negotiations. No intercepted letters.
No rumors traveling through frightened nobles. " Her expression sharpens slightly.
"People make mistakes when forced into proximity with their enemies."
"And chaos follows," Achille mutters darkly.
Veronica's mouth curves faintly.
"Yes."
"You enjoy that part too much."
"I enjoy efficiency."
"You enjoy disasters."
"I thrive in disasters."
"That is deeply concerning."
"It's also useful."
I step toward him carefully until only a breath remains between us. Immediately, his attention fixes entirely on me.
Always me.
No matter how crowded the room becomes. No matter how many people speak. The moment I move closer, the entire world narrows for him.
I lift my hand slowly and press it gently against his face.
The transformation is immediate.
Subtle.
But devastating.
His eyes close briefly.
Just for a second.
And when they open again, the anger has softened around the edges, struggling against something infinitely more vulnerable.
"You play unfairly," he mutters quietly.
A faint smile touches my mouth. "I learned from you."
"That's not reassuring."
His hand comes up slowly, covering mine against his cheek.
Warm.
Careful.
Reverent in a way no one would ever believe possible from a man like him. I smile and gently brush my thumb across his scar.
His breathing slows.
"I know you hate this plan because you think this plan puts me in danger," I whisper.
"It does."
"But war would too."
"Yes."
"At least this way," I continue gently, "I still have you beside me."
His eyes search mine for a long moment.
And I know exactly what he sees there.
I don't want war because I know what grief looks like on him now. I know how deeply he carries every death. Every failure. Every person he couldn't save. The world thinks my husband feels nothing because he hides pain so well beneath silence and cruelty.
But I have held him while he cried over his brother's grave.
I have felt him shaking in my arms because he was terrified of losing me during childbirth.
I know the truth about him.
And because I know it
I refuse to let him destroy himself trying to protect everyone else.
Finally, he exhales heavily and rests his forehead briefly against mine.
"This plan," he mutters darkly, "is going to become a disaster."
Veronica nods immediately. "Absolutely."
Nathaniel sighs. "Without question."
Jacline already looks like she's planning funerals.
Elias grins. "It's going to be magnificent."
Achilles glares at him.
Then looks back at me.
Still frustrated.
Still frightened.
Still deeply unhappy about every part of this.
"You realize," he says carefully, "that I am only agreeing because I love you."
Warmth spreads painfully through my chest.
"I know."
"And because you are carrying my child."
"I know."
"And because if I refuse, you'll continue looking at me like that until I surrender anyway."
A smile pulls at my mouth. "Probably."
He groans quietly like a man accepting his own execution.
Then, after one final long look at me, full of fear and devotion and reluctant surrender
He says, "Fine."