The High Council chamber was suffocating. Marble pillars stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, and golden light spilled through stained glass, casting fractured across the cold floor.
But all Himeka felt were the eyes. Hundreds of them. Ministers, generals, nobles — staring, whispering, condemning.
At the center of it all, she stood. Alone.
Accused.
Her hands trembled at her sides, but her back was straight. She would not bow. She would not break.
Across the chamber, Serenya knelt, her fine silks still gleaming even in disgrace, her face twisted into a smug smile.
"She is unfit to be Empress," Serenya declared, her voice loud enough to echo. "She seduced His Majesty with foreign magic. She lays with generals in secret. She steals from the treasury. A woman like her cannot bear the crown of Cyrillic!"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd like venom.
Himeka's chest tightened, but she raised her voice, steady despite the fear clawing at her throat. "Lies."
The ministers hushed. All eyes turned to her.
She stepped forward. "I am Himeka of Barmouth. I came here as part of peace between kingdoms, not as an enemy. Every coin I have spent is accounted for in the treasury records." She lifted her chin. "As for the generals — if I had betrayed my husband with them, why do they kneel to him still? Why do they stand silent when these rumors are spoken?"
Several generals shifted uncomfortably, their silence damning Serenya more than any words.
Himeka's eyes glistened with tears, but her voice sharpened like steel. "I am guilty only of one thing: loving an Emperor who has never once looked at me as his Empress. But I will never betray him. Not in body, not in heart."
The chamber went still.
For a long, suffocating moment, no one spoke.
Then Minister Kael stepped forward, his aged voice carrying across the silence. "The evidence has been reviewed. The forgeries uncovered. The bribed servants confessed. The accusations are false."
Gasps echoed.
Serenya's face paled. "No—this is wrong—she bewitched you all!"
The council ignored her. Minister Kael lifted a scroll. "By order of the Council of Cyrillic, Lady Serenya of House Varros is hereby sentenced to death, for treason against the crown and slander of the Empress."
The guards moved forward.
Serenya shrieked, thrashing, her once-perfect voice breaking. "No! No, I am noble blood! You cannot—"
But her cries were cut short as iron shackles dragged her toward the doors.
The matter should have ended there.
But it didn't.
---
The Emperor had been silent throughout. Silent as Himeka defended herself, silent as Serenya screamed, silent as the council rendered judgment.
Now, as Serenya was dragged past his throne, his voice finally cut through the chamber like ice.
"Stop."
The guards froze.
Every head turned.
The Emperor rose slowly, descending the steps with a predator's grace. His crimson eyes locked on Serenya, who trembled violently under his gaze.
Without a word, he drew his blade.
"Y-Your Majesty—" she stammered, falling to her knees. "Spare me! I can serve you still—"
The blade sang through the air.
One motion. One flash of silver.
Her head fell to the marble floor.
Her body slumped lifeless beside it, blood spreading in a slow, dark halo.
The chamber was silent. No one dared to breathe.
The Emperor wiped his blade clean with the same indifference one might show to brushing snow from a sleeve.
"Traitors," his voice echoed, low and merciless, "die by my hand."
The guards bowed so low their foreheads touched the floor. The ministers trembled, unable to raise their eyes.
And Himeka—
Himeka stood frozen, her body shaking.
She had seen men executed before. But never like this. Never with such calm, such absolute finality.
Her heart pounded painfully. Fear, awe, and something deeper tangled in her chest.
He was only eighteen when he took the throne… How did a boy so young become this? How does someone so young already look like a demon lord?
She swallowed hard, her throat dry, her knees weak.
And yet… despite the fear in her chest, her heart whispered the same truth as always.
She loved him.
Even as blood stained the marble, even as his crimson eyes gleamed in the shadows, even as the court trembled before him—she loved him.
And now, more than ever, she needed to know.
Who had carved him into stone?
What past had birthed this merciless emperor?
She needed answers.
End of Chapter 20