CHAPTER 47: THE MISSING EMPEROR

ERIS

The gardens had always been mine.

Not for their beauty, though they held it, wild and feral, like fire frozen mid-dance, but for the solitude they promised. No courtiers, no whispers, no faces that demanded masks. Only jasmine tangled with moonlight, the soft hiss of water against stone, and the quiet that belonged to me.

Tonight, even that sanctuary felt tainted.

I perched on the fountain’s marble bench, legs crossed, one hand brushing the cool stone, the other clutching a folded parchment.

While the whole kingdom celebrated, I only cared about one thing.

The map. Again. I could recite every route, every village, every damned safe house between here and freedom, yet still, I traced the ink as if it might rearrange itself into something intelligible.

Calemond. Velstra. Rutherd.

Three names. Three escapes. Three lives I could slip into as easily as a snake sheds skin.

The eastern cliffs had their allure, remote, merciless, the kind of place where questions died on the wind. But Velstra... Velstra had gardens. Real ones. The kind that grew without burning.

I followed the thin line cutting across the countryside with my fingertip. Two days if I pushed, three if I avoided the main roads. Three was smarter.

My jaw clenched.

Caelen. Rael.

What could have been?

The thought twisted something inside me, not guilt, no, I’d shed that years ago but a hollow ache that tasted like regret. A regret born of bridges burned so completely that even the ashes had turned to dust.

I folded the map, slipping it into my robe.

By dawn, none of this would matter. The Fire Testament would be read. The crown would pass to him. And I would be gone.

Simple. Clean. Final.

Yet my hands trembled anyway.

I flexed my fingers, watching moonlight catch the rings, gold and ruby, symbols of a power I had never asked for and longed to discard. Relief should have followed. Instead, only emptiness, a hollow where certainty should have been.

And then his voice.

"I seek you."

Air hissed between my teeth. Enough. I was no lovesick girl mooning over some faceless warrior who had dared to kneel before thousands and whisper as if we shared secrets. He was nothing. A distraction. A fool mistaking luck for importance.

And yet...

The way he moved in the arena... fluid, controlled, devastatingly precise, haunted me with its familiarity. Too familiar. Like watching a ghost wear someone else’s skin.

Stop.

I shoved the thoughts aside, returned to the map, to the plan: Velstra, yes. Its hills, its gardens, the people too absorbed in harvest to care for a pale-haired woman who kept to herself.

But his voice returned, low and mocking, as if he stood just behind me.

"You wouldn’t be who you are if you denied the fire its curiosity."

Heat flared in my chest.

Across from me, a pale yellow flower ignited in an instant. Bright, vicious flames licked its petals, but I held it, suspended in the air like a creature tethered to my will. It burned, but it did not crumble. Did not fall. Just... burned.

Like me.

"Impressive."

The word cut the night like a blade through silk.

I did not turn. My eyes clung to the dancing fire.

"Most would let it die," he said, voice smooth, amused. "But you hold it captive."

Then I did turn.

The missing emperor.

Back like there was nothing strange and suspicious about it.

Soren lingered at the garden’s edge, half-shadow, moonlight casting him in silver and frost. No armor tonight. No crown. Just dark leather, the ease of a man who wandered into trouble and decided to stay.

His smile was small, lazy, dangerous in its promise.

I let the fire die. The petals finally crumbled to ash between my fingers, dust brushing to the ground without ceremony.

"Your talent for appearing uninvited," I said, my voice flat as glass, "is remarkable, Emperor. One might call it a gift. Others, trespassing."

He smirked. "I prefer persistent interest."

"I prefer problem."

"Perspective."

"Intrusion."

"Dedication."

I leaned back, arms crossed. "What do you want this time, your majesty?"

He stepped closer, boots crunching softly against gravel. "I heard you were looking for me."

I let silence stretch, long enough to unsettle him, to let doubt nibble at the edges of his grin.

"Looking for you?" I arched a brow. "How... bold."

"Is it?" His pale eyes flickered with amusement. "I heard you sent guards to track me. To find the missing guest no?"

Ah. So he knew.

I let my face remain a mask, though satisfaction coiled in my chest. "You’re correct," I said smoothly. "I was looking. After all, missing the Duel of Cinders... a sacred event in Pyrosanct... is not a casual affair."

"I apologize your majesty." He tightened his smile. "I merely had some business to attend to."

"Business," I repeated, deliberate, heavy with doubt. "Southern ridge business?"

For the first time, unease touched him. Small, subtle, but there.

Good.

I gestured to the bench.

He hesitated, then obeyed with measured care, as though approaching a fire he was unsure would burn him. Space between us crackled, thick with unspoken things.

"You missed quite the spectacle," I said, soft as smoke.

He said nothing, just curious eyes staring.

"A stranger appeared," I continued, my gaze tracing the fountain. "No sigil, no name. Defeated every champion with ease. And when I asked for his wish... he had none yet."

Soren stiffened, almost imperceptibly.

"Curious, isn’t it?" I murmured. "A nameless man appearing the exact moment you vanish."

The tension stretched taut, a bowstring ready to snap.

"When a nameless man occupies your thoughts this long," Soren finally said, measured, too controlled, "he must have... made his mark."

I stared, cold as stone. "He captured nothing. Only his audacity and foolishness stood out."

He laughed, a short, genuine sound that shattered his poise. "Quite something, to rouse that from you."

Heat flared again, sharper. "You and he share something."

His laugh softened. "Oh?"

"Your ability to irritate me."

A chuckle, almost proud, like a prize had been handed. "I’ll take it as a compliment."

"Don’t."

"I’m sure..." He leaned back, eyes skyward. "Whoever that stranger is... he’ll return. For his wish."

My pulse thrummed. I forced my voice cold. "Then he may be too late."

Soren’s head snapped toward me. "Too late?"

I did not answer.

I stood, brushed imaginary ash from my robe. "I advise you rest before the ball begins Emperor. I’m sure you must be tired from your... adventure... today."

Without waiting for a response, I walked away, leaving him in the garden with questions I had no intention of answering.