POV: Alaric
The road stretched ahead through familiar countryside, and Alaric allowed himself to feel something close to happiness.
Less than an hour remained until he reached D'Lorien estate and held Seraphina again.
His hand moved to his coat pocket where her letter rested against his chest. He'd read it so many times the creases had softened, the ink slightly smudged from his fingers tracing certain phrases. The words played through his mind with each mile that passed.
She wanted him. The transformation that had come over her recently, whatever had sparked it, had made her more fascinating than she'd ever been. The quiet obedient wife he'd married had become something else entirely, someone with depths he hadn't suspected, and watching her change had rekindled desires he thought he'd satisfied long ago. Now she was reaching for him with the passion her letter promised, and the woman who had intrigued him was finally ready to be his completely.
And with her love came possibilities he'd barely dared to imagine. The D'Lorien bloodline carried weight that extended far beyond inherited wealth. Ancient connections to power, to legitimacy, to claims that had shaped empires. If Seraphina truly loved him, if her devotion was as complete as her letter suggested, she would elevate him willingly. She would offer him a place beside her, perhaps even let him lead as the husband she adored. A woman in love would give everything to the man who held her heart, and Alaric intended to hold hers completely.
The throne itself wasn't impossible. Not with the right bloodline backing him, the right wife whispering his worth into the right ears. Seraphina's letter had changed everything. Her love was the key to ambitions he'd kept carefully hidden even from himself.
His ribs ached where the demon's club had cracked bone during the battle. The injury had mostly healed, but sudden movements still sent pain lancing through his side. A worthy price for defending the realm and proving himself on the battlefield alongside dukes and lords who would remember his valor when political favors came due.
The diamond necklace waited in his saddlebag, wrapped in silk to protect the northern stones. He'd selected each gem personally from the mine's finest specimens. The centerpiece alone was worth more than most noble families earned in a year. When he fastened it around Seraphina's throat, when he watched her eyes soften with the gratitude and devotion she'd finally learned to show him, everyone would see the truth of their marriage.
The partnership he'd always intended to build between duke and devoted wife.
He urged his horse faster, ignoring the protest from his healing ribs.
The riders appeared on the horizon without warning.
Alaric slowed his pace as he counted the approaching group. Twelve mounted soldiers in imperial colors, riding in perfect formation. The lead rider carried the Crown's banner, golden sunburst catching the afternoon light and announcing official business.
An imperial escort coming directly toward him on this particular road at this particular time.
His mind processed the implications rapidly. He'd distinguished himself during the demon incursion, fighting when lesser men retreated, sustaining injury in defense of the realm. Word of such valor always reached the capital through official channels. Commanders submitted reports. Witnesses provided testimony. The Empress tracked which nobles proved their worth in crisis.
This had to be recognition for his service.
The lead rider raised a hand and the group halted twenty feet away. Their horses were fresh, suggesting they'd changed mounts at coaching stations to reach him quickly. Whatever matter required his presence, the Crown considered it urgent enough to spare no expense.
"Duke Alaric Vessant?"
"I am."
"You are summoned to the imperial palace immediately. Her Majesty Empress Eleanor requires your presence on a matter of urgent importance."
Alaric arranged his features into humble gravity while satisfaction spread through his chest. "I am honored to serve the Crown. May I ask the nature of this summons?"
The rider's expression remained professionally neutral. "I am not at liberty to discuss the details, my lord. Only that your presence is required without delay."
Standard protocol for formal recognition. The honor would be announced properly, with appropriate ceremony and witnesses. Revealing it prematurely would diminish the political impact.
"Of course." Alaric gestured toward the road behind him. "I was traveling to my wife's estate. Shall I send word that I've been delayed?"
"That won't be necessary, my lord. The matter concerns your household directly."
Even better. The recognition would extend to House Vessant's contributions during the demon campaign. Perhaps acknowledgment of the soldiers his family had supplied, the resources they'd committed, the strategic intelligence his network had gathered about demon movements. The kind of public commendation that elevated an entire house's standing at court.
He guided his horse into position among the imperial riders. The formation closed around him with military precision, and they turned back toward the capital at a steady pace that would cover ground efficiently without exhausting the horses.
Alaric used the journey to compose appropriate responses for whatever ceremony awaited. Humble gratitude balanced with quiet pride. Acknowledgment of the soldiers who'd fought beside him, demonstrating the generous spirit expected of recognized heroes. Perhaps a mention of his wife's support during his recovery, which would establish her devotion publicly and silence any whispers about distance in their marriage.
Seraphina would appreciate the political advantage. After everything she'd written about wanting to build their future together, she would understand the value of public recognition. When he collected her tomorrow, after whatever ceremony concluded today's business, she could stand beside him as the devoted wife of a decorated lord.
The diamond necklace would be even more meaningful then. Not just a gift from husband to wife, but a symbol of the elevated status they'd achieved together.
His ribs throbbed as the horse's gait jostled him, but he kept his posture straight and his expression composed. The soldiers around him would report everything they observed. Let them describe a lord who rode despite his wounds, who answered imperial summons without complaint or delay, who carried himself with the dignity befitting recognition.
Hours passed. The landscape shifted from rural farmland to more populated territories. Villages gave way to towns, and towns eventually yielded to the sprawling outskirts of the capital. Alaric tracked their progress with growing anticipation, each familiar landmark bringing him closer to whatever honor awaited.
He thought about how he would describe this to Seraphina. The imperial riders appearing on the road without warning. The formal summons delivered with appropriate gravity. The journey back to the capital with an honor guard surrounding him. She would understand the significance. She would see how their family's position was rising, how everything they'd built together was bearing fruit.
The letter in his pocket felt warm against his chest. Her words about wanting children, about building their future, about the intimacy they'd finally shared. All of it would mean even more once he returned to her with imperial recognition adding weight to his name.
The capital appeared as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. Familiar spires and walls that he'd navigated since childhood, but today the sight carried different weight. Today he entered as a man about to receive acknowledgment from the Crown itself.
The imperial palace rose against the darkening sky as they approached the main gates. Guards in ceremonial armor saluted as they passed through. Stable hands appeared with practiced efficiency to take his horse. A palace steward waited at the entrance, posture formal and expression neutral.
"Duke Vessant. Please follow me. Her Majesty is expecting you."
Alaric dismounted carefully, allowing the motion to show appropriate discomfort from his injury without appearing weak. The steward's eyes flickered to where his hand pressed against his ribs, registering the detail. Good. Word would spread through the palace staff about the wounded hero who'd answered the Empress's summons despite his condition.
The corridors they walked were familiar from countless political functions and court appearances. Alaric noted the route with growing satisfaction. They were heading not toward the throne room, where public ceremonies took place, but toward the private wing where the Empress conducted matters of genuine importance.
A personal audience, which was more significant than any public recognition could be.
The implications multiplied in his mind. Private acknowledgment meant the Empress wanted something beyond simple ceremony. Perhaps consultation on the ongoing demon threat, given his firsthand experience with their tactics. Perhaps discussion of how House Vessant's resources could be deployed in future conflicts. Perhaps even advancement in the council structure that would position his family for greater influence.
All of it made sense. All of it aligned with the path he'd been building for years.
They passed servants who averted their eyes with appropriate deference. Guards who stood straighter as the steward led him through. Everyone in the palace would know by morning that Duke Vessant had been summoned for private audience with the Empress herself. The political capital from that knowledge alone was worth the interrupted journey to Seraphina.
She would understand. She would wait one more day for him. And when he arrived with news of imperial favor added to the diamonds in his saddlebag, their reunion would be even sweeter.
The steward stopped before a door Alaric recognized from previous audiences. The Empress's private study. Where Eleanor conducted the business that shaped the realm's future.
"Her Majesty and Crown Prince Thalion await you inside, my lord."
Both of them. Mother and son together for a private audience with him. Whatever recognition he was about to receive, it carried weight significant enough to warrant the heir's presence.
Alaric straightened his coat and ensured his expression conveyed appropriate humility mixed with readiness to serve. His hand brushed his coat pocket one final time, feeling Seraphina's letter against his chest. Tomorrow he would share all of this with her. Tomorrow they would celebrate together what today's audience would bring.
The steward knocked once on the heavy wooden door.
"Enter," came Eleanor's voice from within.
The door swung open.
Alaric stepped forward into the Empress's study, prepared to receive the honor he'd earned through blood and service to the realm. Eleanor sat behind her desk with documents spread before her. Thalion stood near the window, his expression unreadable in the fading light.
Neither of them was smiling.
The door closed behind him.