"Stay here," Asher said softly, his voice thick, restrained. "I'll be back."
Stephania didn't respond. She just stood there small, trembling under his coat as if she had expected this moment to go differently.
He lingered for a second longer, eyes on the back of her silver head, fists clenched at his sides.
Then he turned and walked to the door.
"Do not let anyone inside," he ordered, voice sharp as a blade. "Not a soul."
The guards bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Asher nodded once and walked away but not calmly. He ran a hand through his hair, gripping it at the roots as he moved quickly through the corridor, his steps heavy with rage.
His face was a mask, cold and unreadable, but inside,
Inside, something had broken.
And the fire in his chest was no longer just love.
It was fury.
Asher returned quickly, faster than anyone could've noticed his absence. No one could see her like this. Not when she was this vulnerable. Stephania was proud, too proud to bear the humiliation. Even her maids couldn't know. He had to protect her dignity. He would protect it.
In his arms, he carried a folded set of her nightwear soft, simple.
He entered the room quietly, the door clicking shut behind him. Stephania hadn't moved from where he left her. She sat on the edge of the bed, Asher's coat still wrapped tightly around her, her silver hair falling like a veil over her face. She didn't look up.
Asher didn't say a word.
He approached her gently.
"I'll help," he said, voice low, careful, like he was afraid anything louder would shatter her.
She didn't resist. She let him remove the coat, piece by piece. His touch was feather-light never lingering, never invasive. Only respectful. Only caring.
He helped her slip into the nightgown. He buttoned each loop with delicate precision, and when he was done, he softly tucked her under the covers.
Still, Stephania said nothing.
Asher rose slowly, unsure whether she wanted him gone or near. He hesitated, then turned to leave thinking she'd want some time alone.
But then, her hand caught his.
"Asher."
He turned immediately.
She didn't look at him at first, only stared at the edge of the bed.
"The scars," she said, her voice a cracked whisper, "are old. I… I didn't even remember them. I was so focused on being naked in front of you that I.... " her breath hitched, "...I forgot they were there."
She finally looked at him.
"If I had remembered, I wouldn't have turned my back," she said with a bitter smile. "I'd have rather let you see my breasts than those."
Asher's expression crumbled.
His jaw clenched. His eyes were rimmed red, a storm of emotions surging just beneath the surface, grief, rage, helplessness.
But he didn't interrupt her.
Stephania forced a light laugh, trying to break the tension. "I wasn't a very obedient daughter you see. And so my father was not very fond of me"
She shrugged, pretending to be unaffected, but Asher saw the faint trembling in her fingers.
He knelt beside her bed again and gently took her hand.
Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead , longer this time, firmer, as if trying to breathe strength into her.
"You can be as disobedient as you want now," he murmured against her skin. "I'll protect you. Always. Because I'm very, very fond of you."
His voice trembled slightly on the last words.
Stephania didn't respond.
But she didn't let go of his hand either.
Asher sat beside her for a quiet moment, his fingers brushing gently over the back of her hand.
"Everyone carries scars, Stephania," he said softly. "Some we wear on our skin, some we bury deep inside. But if we share them with each other, maybe life won't feel so heavy."
Stephania looked at him, her voice calm but pointed. "You haven't shown me yours yet."
He gave her a small smile. "I will. Very soon."
Then he stood, pressed a warm kiss to her forehead, and whispered, "Good night, my queen."
And just like that, he left her chamber, carrying his own scars a little closer to the surface.
"As much as I value loyalty," Asher began, voice low but sharp, "I do not tolerate carelessness. The queen's gown was tampered with. Someone tried to humiliate her , my wife , in front of the court."
A heavy silence followed. No one dared to speak. The maids fell to their knees, pleading their innocence, swearing they had done nothing wrong.
After a tense interrogation, Asher ordered the guards "Take them to the holding chamber, Until I know who's responsible, they'll stay under guard."
But just as the guards stepped forward, Cicilia's voice rang out, calm and unexpected.
"It was me," she said.
The room froze.
"I tampered with the gown. The other girls are innocent."
Asher narrowed his eyes. This was a bigger shock to him . He had known Cicilia since childhood. She was like a sister to him . Sharp, proud, and never the type to cover for others. But she was also not someone who would sabotage without reason. And she certainly wouldn't take the fall unless she had something to gain or hide.
"Everyone else, out," Asher commanded. The guards hesitated, then obeyed, ushering the others away.
"Tell me the truth, Cicilia. All of it. Why did you do this?" Asher leaned against his desk, arms crossed. His tone dropped to something quieter but far more dangerous.
Cicilia stood in the middle of the grand yet suffocating silence of Asher's office, her head slightly bowed, fists clenched at her sides. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled , not with fear, but with something far more fragile.
"I didn't do it out of malice" she began. "I did it because I couldn't stand it anymore."
Asher frowned, but said nothing, allowing her to continue.
"From the very beginning, it was you, your majesty." Her voice cracked. "Not because you're the king, but because you were the only one who ever looked at me like I mattered. You remembered my birthday when no one else did. You comforted me when my mother was sick. You protected me ."
Her eyes welled up. "You gave me reasons to believe I was special to you. I thought maybe one day I'd be more than just Cicilia, . I thought I had a place beside you, not behind you, your majesty."