Chapter 43- Morning Consequences
Morning in the royal bedchamber arrives quietly.
The heavy velvet curtains are only half drawn, allowing pale sunlight to spill through the tall windows in long golden bands that stretch across the marble floor and climb the carved posts of the massive bed.
Dust motes drift lazily through the light like tiny floating stars, and the faint warmth of the sun settles gently across the sheets.
For a moment, I remain perfectly still beneath the blankets.
My body feels heavy.
Not painfully so just... deeply tired.
The kind of exhaustion that settles into muscles after a night where sleep was little more than a passing thought.
My eyes remain closed as I slowly become aware of my surroundings.
The palace beyond the chamber walls has already awakened.
Faint sounds drift through the corridors footsteps moving briskly along polished stone floors, the distant murmur of servants beginning their duties, the low metallic rhythm of soldiers training in the courtyard far below.
The empire is awake.
And unfortunately...
So am I.
I groan softly and roll onto my back, throwing one arm over my eyes as if that might somehow block out the morning.
Gods.
I barely slept.
The events of the previous night replay in fragments behind my closed eyelids warm hands, quiet laughter, whispered words, and a closeness that had somehow turned the quiet office into something far more dangerous.
My cheeks heat instantly.
I press my arm harder against my face.
Perhaps if I lie here long enough, the memories will politely leave.
A sharp knock lands against the chamber door.
I groan again, louder this time.
"Give me a second!" I call toward the door, my voice still rough with sleep.
There is a pause.
Then another knock.
This one slightly more impatient.
I drag my arm away from my face and blink up at the ceiling, trying to gather enough energy to move. The room feels too warm, too comfortable, the bed far too inviting for the responsibilities that undoubtedly wait outside.
With a sigh, I push myself upright.
That is when I notice the empty space beside me.
The sheets there are cold.
Achilles is already gone.
Of course he is.
The king rises earlier than most people in the palace often before sunrise. War reports, council meetings, military briefings... his days begin long before mine ever do.
Still, the absence leaves the bed feeling strangely larger.
Another knock sounds at the door.
Right.
I glance down at myself.
And immediately freeze.
I scramble out of bed in a rush, nearly tripping over the edge of the thick carpet as I hurry toward the nearest chair where my nightgown has been abandoned.
The soft fabric slides over my skin as I pull it quickly over my head, tying the loose sash around my waist while attempting to make myself look at least slightly respectable.
My hair is an absolute disaster.
My body feels like it hasn't slept nearly enough.
"Just a moment!" I call again toward the door.
I smooth the front of the nightgown quickly before finally speaking louder.
"You can come in!"
The door opens immediately.
Elias walks inside.
And he is carrying a stack of papers so large that he has to tilt his head sideways just to see around them.
I stare.
He staggers slightly beneath the weight before dropping the entire tower of documents onto the small table near the window with a heavy thud.
The stack lands with enough force to make the table legs creak.
I stare at the pile.
Then at him.
Then back at the pile again.
"...please tell me I don't have to go through all of that."
Elias straightens, stretching his shoulders as though he has just carried an entire library across the palace.
"It's not my fault you're queen," he says casually.
"You wanted the crown."
"I did not want the paperwork," I mutter.
He gestures toward the towering stack.
"That," he says, "is the end-of-year report."
My eyes widen slowly.
"The entire castle's financial records."
I stare at the stack again.
It is nearly two feet tall.
"...how much stuff does one castle need to operate?" I demand.
Elias shrugs as if the answer is obvious.
"You're running the largest palace in the empire. That includes food supply reports, servant wages, maintenance logs, stable budgets, trade inventories, guard rotations, tax distribution—"
"Stop," I groan, raising a hand. "Please stop."
He grins.
"I haven't even reached the interesting sections yet."
"There are no interesting sections."
With a sigh of resignation, I push myself away toward the table.
The towering pile of papers looks even worse up close.
I flip open the top document.
Columns.
Numbers.
Charts.
More numbers.
My eyes immediately begin to blur.
"...I swear if these numbers don't make sense, I'm firing everyone," I mutter.
Elias laughs.
"Oh, this is going to be entertaining."
"You have meetings with each department today," I say reluctantly.
I freeze.
"...each department?"
"Yes."
He begins counting casually on his fingers.
"Kitchens."
"Stables."
"Servant management."
"Supply logistics."
"Guard administration."
"Maintenance oversight."
"Financial review boards."
My head slowly turns toward him.
"...you're joking."
He folds his arms.
"Queen Ophelia."
"Yes?"
"Welcome to ruling an empire."
I groan dramatically and drop the document back onto the pile.
"This is cruel and unusual punishment."
Elias studies my face for a moment.
Then his expression changes.
A slow grin spreads across his face.
"You know," he says thoughtfully, "we should probably invest more money in makeup."
I blink.
"...what?"
He shrugs casually.
"You're going to have to give your ladies a raise soon."
I narrow my eyes.
"I know you did not just call me ugly."
He raises his hands defensively.
"I said nothing about ugly."
"You implied it."
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"Interesting."
I cross my arms.
"You are dangerously close to turning into a ghost."
He chuckles.
"I guess you haven't seen yourself in the mirror recently."
My eyebrows shoot upward.
"Excuse me?" he grabs the small hand mirror sitting on my desk.
Then he turns it toward me.
"Observe," he says.
I look.
And immediately regret it.
My hair is a mess.
My cheeks are flushed.
And my neck
My face goes completely red.
"Oh my gods."
I snatch the mirror from his hand and lean closer to inspect the damage.
There are marks.
Several of them.
Along my neck.
Across my collarbone.
My face burns hotter.
Behind me, Elias bursts into laughter.
"So," he says cheerfully, "tell me everything."
I whirl around.
"Absolutely not."
"Come on."
"No."
"Was it good?"
He pauses.
Then grimaces slightly.
"Actually wait—don't answer that....That's my nephew...That's weird."
I point dramatically at the door.
"Get out."
He grins.
"Scale of one to ten?"
"ELIAS!"
"Alright, alright!"
Still laughing, he backs toward the door.
"You might want to wear a scarf today!" he calls as he opens it.
"GET OUT!"