CHAPTER 71: BRIBERY AND PERSUASION

For a moment, no one in the council room dared to breathe.

The Hydra Knights. The men who had fought monsters, crossed battlefields, and faced death without blinking, stood frozen and rigid, their eyes darting between each other like witnesses to some divine phenomenon. Because the crown prince of Noctharis had just smiled.

Not the sharp, dangerous one that meant someone was about to die, but a real one. A soft and human smile that was warm enough to melt through the cold marble and steel that usually wrapped around him like some unbreakable barrier. Not to mention it had been so easy too.

The princess had only been in the room for less than a minute, and somehow the air no longer felt suffocating. Every bit of tension that had threatened to kill them five breaths ago had vanished. It made them wonder: Had the crown prince truly been softened by his wife... or was this the calm surrender of a man finally broken?

The knights did not know where to look. Hell, they did not even know if it was alright for them to still be there at all. Some stared fixedly at the floor, others at the map, but all collectively hoping to be dismissed from the meeting. Harken respectfully stepped a bit away, if only to give space to the princess to fuss over her husband.

However, before Levan could even process her next move, or the knights could voice out their suggestion to be dismissed, Ilaria placed the jar on top of the map and closed the short distance between her and her husband, wrapping her arms around his middle without warning.

The entire room stopped existing for a beat. Not a shift of armour or a breath could be heard that someone might have actually fainted.

Levan went utterly still. For a heartbeat, he could only look down at the top of her head pressed against his chest, his mind blanking as the faint scent of sugar and strawberry filled his lungs. He was not a stranger to her unexpected move by now, but to do it in this kind of setting...

"...Aria," he managed, but even that sounded strained.

She only hummed against him, nuzzling into his warmth like a cat looking for affection. "You looked tense, so I’m helping you," she said, as though that explained everything.

He stared at her, one hand hovering awkwardly midair like he was not sure whether to hold her or peel her off gently before the knights collectively combusted. He exhaled slowly through his nose, his jaw tightening. Not in anger, but because he could feel every pair of eyes burning holes into his back.

Lifting his gaze, he met the horrified stares of his knights, who immediately snapped their eyes away like guilty children caught spying on royalty. But then, because there was no point at pretending anymore, he sighed and settled one hand around her shoulders, pulling her close as he steered her away from the prying eyes of the knights.

His touch was careful, like a man who had no idea how to hold something so soft without breaking it. For all the world’s eyes on him, he could not bring himself to push her away. And so, he bent slightly, lowering his head to her ear, not that it did much to make the moment less intimate.

"Hey..." he said quietly, voice gentled around the syllables. "You shouldn’t be here. The matters discussed in this room are important. I can’t have anyone distracted."

"I know," she murmured, fingers curling into the front of his coat as she looked up at him with bright eyes, her cheek squished against his chest, "but you didn’t come back last night. I missed you."

He could hear the knights coughing in the background, but he ignored it.

"Right," he said slowly, nodding like an adult trying to reason with a child, or perhaps himself. "And I appreciate that, truly, but this isn’t—"

"You’re leaving me again, are you?"

Levan froze mid-motion, one hand still around her shoulders, the other brushing a stray curl from her face. He straightened slightly, trying to mask the flicker of surprise.

"No," he said at first, then paused, realizing how useless half-denied answers were with her since it was obvious that she had been eavesdropping. "Well— yes, I’m going to the North for expedition. It’s necessary."

Ilaria’s lips pressed into a small pout, her eyes narrowed just enough to make him see the silent, but very clear demonstration of her displeasure. She did not say a word, but the way she looked at him spoke volumes.

A few knights shifted awkwardly, torn between pretending not to see and being scandalized by her audacity. Meanwhile Levan cleared his throat, trying to maintain composure, though the sharpness in his golden eyes softened a little at the sight.

"What do you want, Aria?" he asked patiently then, his hand still resting lightly on her shoulder when she pushed gently against his chest, enough to free herself and stepped back a pace with a determined tilt of her chin.

She had not planned to speak up at first, but the moment she heard that her husband truly intended to leave for the North on matters concerning the Blithe, the restless feeling that lived in her heart suddenly came alive. She did not know exactly how it would work, or if he would even agree, but she had to try.

"I want to go with you," she said.

Levan did not even need to think to give her an answer. The moment the question was out, he was already grim. "No."

Ilaria gaped. "Why?"

"Because this is not some leisurely stroll outside the palace, it’s dangerous."

"But I can heal. Caelwyn healers are—"

"I know what you are," he interrupted firmly, his expression settling back into the composed authority he wore before she entered the room, though with a trace of concern lingering beneath, "but you are also the crown princess. You don’t set foot anywhere near that forest."

Her face fell. "...So I can’t go?"

"Yes."

Ilaria huffed, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. Only after a while did she straighten her posture, leaning forward just a little. Because there is no way she was giving up now. "I can be useful, you know."

He did not answer.

Her pout deepened. "...Fine, don’t believe me. But ask them."

Before he could stop her, she spun on her heel and thrust the jar of macarons toward the nearest knight. "Here. For you."

The man froze, eyes darting between the stern crown prince and the beaming princess. "I—Your Highness, I couldn’t—"

"Take it," she insisted, pressing the sweets into his hand. "Now, tell him I could be useful."

The knight looked like he had swallowed a dagger. "I— uh—" He peeked at Levan’s unreadable expression, then at the macarons again. "...The princess... might be of help, Your Highness. Caelwyn’s healers are—"

It was Harken who cleared his throat, easily bribed by the hopeful shine in Ilaria’s eyes as he munched on the macaron. "Indeed, sire. The Caelwyn healers stationed here are already stretched thin, tending to victims of the Blithe across the kingdom. Having royal blood with healing gifts at the North, even just one, could make a tremendous difference."

Levan’s head turned slowly, his eyes narrowing. Both men instantly looked like they regretted breathing.

Ilaria, however, only puffed her chest proudly. "See? Even they agree." She chimed, then reached out to hold his hands, steering his attention away from the knights and back to her. "I won’t be in the way. I’ll stay where you tell me, I promise. I’ll only heal the wounded and nothing else."

Levan let her take his hands, but his stare remained pinning at the knights before he eventually looked at her, disapprovingly. "You think this is a debate?"

Her lower lip jutted out. "I think it’s common sense. You need every hand you can get, and I can," Her eyes drooped, a hint of pleading creeping in as she squeezed his fingers. "Please? I don’t want to sit safe while knowing that the people suffer."

He searched her face, weighing every word. She did not see the danger the way he did. Every step near that forest could be her last. His chest tightened at the thought, and for a moment, he wished he could shield her from the world entirely.

He did not know the full extent of her motives for wanting to follow him, but if it was simply to be near him; to not be apart even for a moment, then that alone was more than enough reason for him to not want her there.

"Aria," he began, "I appreciate your concern, more than you’ll ever understand," he said carefully. "But my responsibility is to keep you safe, so don’t be stubborn." He shook his head, a flicker of frustration passing through his irises. "If I require Caelwyn’s healers, I will send for them."

"You can’t," Ilaria insisted, already jumping on her toes like she could not afford to lose. "You’ll lose days waiting for a reply, and people are suffering now."

"We set out tomorrow," he said, as if that would end the discussion.

But instead, she only brightened up, clearly missing his exasperation. "Exactly! Which means you need me

tomorrow."

Levan sighed.

Ilaria tilted her head, lowering her lashes in what she thought was her most persuasive look. "Please?" She tried again. "I’ll behave. I’ll stay put. I won’t even talk unless it’s to heal someone."

Silence.

She pushed harder, eyes wide and shimmering like a child begging for candy. "Do you really have the heart to tell your wife that she should sit in her chamber eating sweets while people bleed to death?"

But Levan was a hard man to persuade. He said, "If it will keep you safe, then yes."

"But—!"

"You heard me."

She stomped her foot before she could stop herself. The knights along the wall flinched at her audacity, but Ilaria pushed on. "You don’t understand! I can help. I’m not just some porcelain doll you married. I’ve practiced before. If even one life is saved because of me, then isn’t it worth it?"

That last sentence struck like an arrow in the quiet war room. His fingers stilled against hers, and though his expression betrayed nothing, she finally saw the faintest consideration in his eyes. And she would be damned if she let this chance slip.

So she tugged at his hands, pleading desperately. "Please, husband...?"

Levan clicked his tongue, glancing away in frustration, as though conceding in this quiet battle pained him more than any sword wound. He did not want to admit it, but Harken was right — one more hand, gifted with royal healing blood, could make a real difference in the North.

But that was the thing. That one hand was Ilaria.

But if she insisted on going, then...

"...Fine," he relented.

Ilaria’s eyes widened. "...Fine?"

Levan’s gaze flicked to hers, trying and failing to restore some of the stern composure that the war room demanded. "You can come... but only under my watch," he said, looking at her face to make sure she understands. "Stay close, follow my orders, and do exactly as I say."

Ilaria’s grin widened impossibly, and before he could respond further, she wrapped her arms around his middle again, pressing her face to his chest. "I know you’ll let me help, thank you husband!"

The sight would have been adorable to the knights if it were not the crown prince they were watching. The same man whose gaze could cut steel and whose laughter rarely touched human ears was now being hugged by a literal bundle of joy who somehow managed to bypass his walls.

Levan barely spared them a glance as he lowered his head just enough to nuzzle her hair, the soft pressure of her arms around him grounding the tension of the war room. And in that moment, amidst maps and soldiers and looming danger, he let himself be utterly and completely defeated by the warmth of his wife.

Ilaria could feel it. The calm that settled over him the moment his arms came around her. "See? Everything’s better when I’m here~"

Levan still had not come to terms with the fact that he was actually allowing her to join, but what could he do? His will had always been strong — until her.

"Yes... everything is better," he admitted at last, the quiet surrender in his voice barely hidden beneath the warmth.