She hated the fact that her mental defenses were crumbling.
She hated the fact that beneath her fear, she was craving the very man who had shattered her life.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away from the Dracox estate, within the grand and intrigue-filled Central Palace of the Empire, Alexander was suffocating in a deep abyss of stress.
The cause of his hurried departure that night now stood directly before him, in the center of the Imperial council chamber.
Prince Helios.
Alexander’s half-brother–the Emperor’s eldest son from the late First Empress–had officially returned from his diplomatic and military studies abroad.
Helios’s sudden return immediately shook the political stability of the court.
As the son of the previous legitimate Empress, hailing from pure noble bloodlines of two ancient dynasties, Helios believed the throne truly belonged to him.
“Long time no see, Little Brother Alexander,” Helios greeted him with a calm smile that veiled a hidden threat before the assembled ministers and high nobles.
“I heard you just returned from a brief visit to the Dracox territory?
I believe it is time you refocused on the neglected affairs of state.”
Alexander stared at his half-brother with deep blue eyes as cold as ice.
The room grew suffocatingly silent as all eyes turned to the two princes.
“Imperial affairs have always been under my absolute control, Brother Helios,” Alexander replied, his voice calm yet laced with a sharp edge.
“You need not worry about my efficiency during your long absence.”
Helios chuckled softly, swirling the wine in his glass.
“Is that so?
Yet rumors circulate that the Crown Prince spent days hidden in a provincial manor, neglecting the border reports.
A true ruler cannot afford to be distracted by trivial amusements, Alexander.”
The tension between the two was palpable to every minister present.
Everyone knew the bitter history between them.
Alexander was the Crown Prince not because he was the eldest, but because his mother–the Emperor’s former favorite concubine–had been elevated to Second Empress following the death of Helios’s birth mother.
The fact that Alexander’s mother was once merely the Emperor’s favorite concubine caused the noble factions supporting Helios to view Alexander’s ascension as a political mistake waiting to be corrected.
“Amusements or state duty, my actions do not require your validation, Helios,” Alexander sneered coldly, stepping closer until he stood face-to-face with his elder brother.
“Focus on adjusting back to court life before you attempt to lecture me on how to rule.”
“Alexander!”
As soon as the exhausting council meeting concluded, a firm, sharp voice halted Alexander’s steps in the inner palace corridor.
The Empress–his mother–approached in her magnificent silk gown, her jewelry rattling softly with each swift step, escorted by dozens of guards.
Her beautiful face, usually composed and regal, was now fraught with obvious tension.
“Mother,” Alexander greeted her briefly with a slight nod.
“Come with me now.
We need to talk,” the Empress commanded coldly, turning sharply toward her private chambers.
Inside the Empress’s quarters, away from prying ears, his mother voiced her anxieties without preamble.
She paced back and forth across the plush velvet carpet, her eyes glittering with desperation.
“What were you doing in the Dracox territory for days, Alexander?!” the Empress hissed under her breath.
“Helios has returned with the full backing of the northern dukes!
Your position as Crown Prince is under severe threat!
If you slip up even for a single moment, the council will begin questioning your legitimacy and seek to strip your title!”
“I know what I am doing, Mother,” Alexander replied evenly, leaning back against a carved wooden chair, his posture rigid.
“If you know, then act like it!” the Empress demanded, slamming her hand onto a small marble table.
She glared at her son with demanding eyes.
“Starting today, I have arranged your entire schedule.
You will attend military briefings every morning, host the neutral noble factions, and most importantly–you must immediately consider a political engagement with the High Duke’s daughter!”
Alexander closed his eyes tightly as his mother continued to speak, pouring out endless political strategies, packed schedules, and power plays required to secure his crown.
From that day on, Alexander’s life turned into a relentless whirlwind of duty.
From dawn until late at night, his hours were consumed by state documents, strategy meetings with generals, and tedious debates with power-hungry ministers.
Helios pressed his position from every angle, sending subtle provocations through the court to force Alexander into making a mistake.
Yet, amid the overwhelming exhaustion…
amid the stacks of legal scrolls and the sickening whispers of court intrigue…
Alexander’s mind continuously strayed to one single place.
To a small, dingy servant’s room in the Dracox estate.
Snap.
Alexander’s fingers mindlessly snapped the quill in his hand, letting black ink drip onto the parchment resting on his desk.
He stared at the ink stain, but all he could picture was the tear-stained face of a girl with vibrant crimson hair and amber eyes.
Hugo, standing faithfully near the door of the Prince’s study, stepped forward quietly.
“Your Highness?”
Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a sharp headache forming behind his eyes.
He reached into his coat pocket, his fingers brushing against a small, plain ribbon he had taken from Elena’s hair on the night he left.
He held it tightly in his palm, seeking a strange sense of grounding.
He leaned back into his luxurious desk chair, staring blankly out the grand window at the night view of the Imperial capital below.
“How many days has it been since we left that place, Hugo?” Alexander asked in a low, exhausted rasp.
“It has been eight days, Your Highness,” Hugo replied smoothly, knowing exactly which place his master referred to.
Alexander let out a dark, mocking chuckle–a low rasp filled with intense self-frustration.
Eight days.
And not a single day had passed where he didn’t crave his woman.
Amid the suffocating political pressure from Helios and his mother, the image of Elena Rosemoor–her soft body, her innocent expressions, her begging tears, and the warmth he felt while holding her from behind–became the only thing keeping his mind sane.
Alexander missed Elena.
He missed how she trembled beneath his touch.
He missed the simple scent of her body, unmarred by the heavy, suffocating perfumes of the court ladies who constantly tried to draw his attention.
“How is she faring there?” Alexander murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, dangerous octave.
“Reports from our covert eyes at the Dracox estate state that she carries out her duties as usual, Your Highness,” Hugo interjected carefully.
“No suspicious movements.
However…
the senior servants reportedly still assign her heavy physical labor.”
Alexander’s blue eyes flickered with a dangerous light in the dim room.
His jaw clenched tightly as he pictured Elena being mistreated by low-born servants without his protection.
“Finalize all military reports for the southern region tonight,” Alexander commanded Hugo, his voice absolute and unyielding.
“I do not care how fiercely Helios or the Empress attempt to tie me to this palace.
Next week…
I am returning to the Dracox estate.”
Alexander clenched his fist on the desk, crushing the simple ribbon within his palm.
The unyielding thirst and longing he had suppressed for eight long days had pushed his sanity to its breaking point.
Elena might think she had been freed, but Alexander would soon return to reclaim what belonged to him, body and soul.