Eva froze. “Y-Your Majesty…”

  Eyan stood before her.

  For a single heartbeat, the world stopped. Eva forgot how to breathe.

  She only looked at him—his face, his eyes, the way he stood so solidly in the doorway. Alive. Warm. Real.

  Not cold. Not soaked in blood. Not lying motionless in her arms like the last time she had seen him.

  The shock hit her all at once. Her vision blurred, and before she could stop herself, tears welled up and spilled over.

  Panicked, Eva lowered her head at once, hiding her face, hiding the way her shoulders trembled. She pressed her lips together, biting down on the sob threatening to escape.

  Eyan noticed. His brows knit together slightly. “Lady Eva… are you alright?”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

  Her throat felt sealed shut, as if any sound would shatter her completely. Her hands shook at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fought to stay standing.

  “Lady Eva,” Eyan said again, his voice gentler now, closer. “What happene—”

  “Eyan,” Luca interrupted quickly, stepping forward. “What brings you here?”

  Eyan’s attention shifted to him. “I came to see you,” he replied. “When I heard you had arrived at the palace.”

  Then his gaze drifted back to Eva.

  She still hadn’t lifted her head.

  “But…” his eyes narrowed slightly, “what is Lady Eva doing in your chamber?”

  Luca stiffened. “She—she…”

  His gaze dropped to Eva’s wrist.

  The skin there was red, faintly bruised from the cuffs.

  “She came here to heal her wrist,” Luca said quickly.

  Eyan’s gaze sharpened instantly. “Her wrist?”

  He stepped closer, looking at Eva's wrist. The redness. The faint swelling.

  Then he looked back at Luca. “You didn’t heal her?”

  Luca straightened defensively. “Why would I? I don’t even know her. She entered my chamber without permission and demanded I heal her wrist. I’m not her servant.”

  The air changed. Eyan’s expression darkened, something dangerous flashing in his eyes.

  “Heal her wrist,” he said, his voice low and cold.

  Luca scoffed lightly. “I won’t—”

  Before he could finish, Eyan grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back against the wall. The impact echoed through the room.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  Luca stared at him, eyes wide—not in fear, but in something far more complicated. Happiness...Sadness Regret..and Guilt...

  Eyan frowned. “Why are you making that stupid face?”

  Luca pushed Eyan’s hand away and straightened his clothes. “Nothing…”

  He exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll heal her.”

  His voice softened slightly as he turned to Eva.

  “Come inside, my lady.”

  Eva moved as if in a daze. She walked to the couch and sat down slowly, her head bowed, her fingers clenched tightly together in her lap. Her entire body trembled as she struggled to contain herself.

  Eyan watched her. Something about the way she sat—small, broken, fragile—made his chest ache.

  He stepped closer, then tilted his head, trying to catch even a glimpse of her face. “Lady Eva,” he said quietly, “can you lift your head a little?”

  For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then—slowly—Eva raised her head.

  Her eyes were red. Her lashes soaked. Tears streamed down her cheeks without pause, no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

  Eyan’s breath caught.

  Without thinking, he knelt in front of her, lowering himself to her level. “Lady Eva,” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper, “why are you crying?”

  Eva’s lips trembled. “My hand…” she sobbed. “It hurts…”

  The lie sounded weak—even to her—but it was all she could give.

  Eyan’s head snapped toward Luca. “Idiot. Are you waiting for an invitation to heal her?”

  Luca nodded silently and knelt in front of Eva. He gently took her wrist into his hands, careful, reverent.

  Soft magic glowed. The pain faded. Before letting go, Luca squeezed her hand slightly—a small, silent comfort.

  Eva looked at him, blinked rapidly, and nodded.

  Luca stood up. “It’s done.”

  Eyan turned back to Eva, studying her carefully. “How about now... Are you still in pain?”

  She shook her head faintly. “No… I’m not.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Eyan straightened and looked at Luca sharply. “And next time—if Lady Eva comes to you asking for help, you will do it immediately. Is that clear?”

  Luca sighed. “Fine.”

  Eva stood slowly and bowed. “Thank you, Master Luca, for your help.” Then she turned to Eyan and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty… I should take my leave.”

  “Alright,” Eyan replied. “We’ll meet again at the banquet.”

  Eva turned toward the door. She took one step. Then stopped.

  She turned back. “Your Majesty.”

  “Yes?”

  She bowed again, deeper this time. “Happy birthday. I wish you a long… very long life.”

  For a moment, Eyan simply looked at her. Then he smiled softly. “Thank you for the wish, Lady Eva.”

  She turned and left the room.

  The moment she reached the corridor, her legs gave out.

  Eva collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching her chest as sobs tore free. “I just want to touch him… just once,” she cried. “To make sure this isn’t a dream.”

  Her hands shook violently. “He’s here… he didn’t leave me… he’s alive…”

  She curled in on herself, tears soaking the floor, holding onto that single fragile truth—

  Eyan was alive.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  (At the banquet hall)

  Eva finally returned to Aranel’s side, the golden lights of the grand hall reflecting off her damp sleeves. Soft music drifted through the air as nobles laughed and servants moved like shadows between tables.

  Aranel immediately turned toward her, brows knitting in concern. “What took you so long?” she whispered. “I thought you got lost.”

  Eva brushed her fingers over the faint stain on her dress and replied calmly, “I was trying to get rid of the wine stain. It wouldn’t come off easily.”

  Aranel sighed in relief, “You were gone for too long,” she murmured. “Look—His Majesty already arrived before you came back.”

  Eva slowly lifted her head. At the raised dais, Emperor Eyan sat upon his throne, dressed in regal black and silver. The crown rested lightly against his silver hair, his posture composed, his presence commanding the entire hall without a word.

  This time, Eva did not cry. She smiled. A soft, unreadable smile curved her lips.

  Aranel noticed immediately and leaned closer. “Why are you smiling like that while looking at His Majesty?” she whispered nervously.

  Eva didn’t look away. “Aranel,” she said quietly, “how fast can you run?”

  Aranel blinked, startled. “I—I can run really fast,” she answered. “Why?”

  Eva finally turned to her, her green eyes sharp and focused. “Then when I tell you to run,” she said calmly, “run. Don’t look back. Okay?”

  Aranel swallowed, suddenly uneasy—but nodded. “Okay…”

  Eva took a steady breath. “Let’s go greet His Majesty and give him the gifts.”

  Aranel forced a smile, trying to shake off the strange feeling in her chest. “O-okay… let’s go.”

  They walked side by side through the crowd, silk skirts brushing the polished floor. Conversations softened as they approached the dais, eyes following their steps.

  They stopped before the emperor.

  Both bowed deeply. “Greetings, Your Majesty,” Eva and Aranel said in unison. “And happy birthday to you.”

  Eyan smiled warmly, his red eyes softening. “Thank you for the wishes, ladies.”

  They straightened and turned slightly toward Luca, who sat beside Eyan, relaxed yet observant.

  Aranel and Eva bowed again. “Greetings, Master Luca.”

  Luca smiled in response.

  Aranel instantly blushed, her fingers curling into her skirt. She looked as though her heart might leap out of her chest.

  Eva cleared her throat and discreetly nudged Aranel with her elbow. Aranel jolted, snapping out of her daze. “Oh—!”

  She quickly stepped forward, pulling out a beautifully carved box and extending it toward Eyan. “Your Majesty,” Aranel said politely, “my father sends this gift to you… and apologizes for not being able to attend the banquet himself.”

  Eyan accepted the box and handed it to Hans, who stood silently beside him. “Lady Aranel,” Eyan replied, “tell your father I said thank you. And he need not apologize—your presence here in his place is more than enough.”

  Aranel bowed again, visibly relieved. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  She stepped back. Now it was Eva’s turn.

  Eva took one step forward, her expression composed, almost.

  “Your Majesty,” she said softly, “I also have a gift to give you.”

  She extended her hand—but it was curled into a fist.

  Eyan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

  “If you don’t mind,” Eva continued, “could you lean forward a little?”

  Eyan adjusted his posture and leaned toward her, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

  “May I come a little closer to Your Majesty?” Eva asked.

  “Of course,” Eyan replied.

  Eva stepped closer, close enough that only he could hear her clearly. She lifted her closed fist and held it just in front of his nose.

  “Your Majesty,” she whispered, “when I open my fist… can you open your mouth?”

  Eyan paused, confused but amused. “Open my mouth? Why?”

  Eva’s smile deepened, innocent yet unreadable. “It’s a sweet,” she said softly. “I want you to taste it. It will melt in your mouth…”

  Her eyes met his. “I’m sure you’re going to love it.”

  Eyan chuckled, completely unaware. “Alright,” he said, leaning in slightly.

  Eva tilted her head, her smile too calm, too composed for the madness already blooming behind her eyes. “Your Majesty,” she asked sweetly, almost innocently, “are you ready?”

  Eyan chuckled, relaxed, unaware. “Yes.”

  Luca leaned in as well, curiosity sparking as he lifted his wine to his lips, eyes glued to Eva’s clenched fist.

  The hall was loud—music playing, nobles laughing, glasses clinking—no one paying attention.

  Eva lifted her fist slowly.

  “One,” she said.

  Eyan leaned forward a little more.

  “Two.”

  Luca paused mid-sip.

  “Three.”

  Eva opened her fist—

  And Eyan opened his mouth.

  Instead of sweet, Eva suddenly fisted his collar and yanked him forward with shocking force.

  Her lips crashed into his.

  Hard.

  Violent.

  Unmistakable.

  The sound of the kiss was loud enough to cut through the music.

  The banquet hall went dead silent.

  Eyan’s eyes flew open, pupils shaking, breath stolen straight from his lungs.

  Luca choked. Wine sprayed across the table as he spat it out violently. “WHAT—”

  Hans gasped so sharply it sounded like pain, his hand slamming over his mouth.

  Aranel froze completely, her brain refusing to process what her eyes were seeing.

  A goblet slipped from a noble’s hand and shattered on the marble floor.

  Someone shrieked.

  “IS SHE—?!”

  “SHE KISSED—?!”

  “THE EMPEROR—!”

  Eva didn’t stop. She kissed him harder. Deeper. Like she was trying to burn herself into him, like she was proving he was real, alive, warm.

  Eyan’s hands clenched around the throne so hard the wood creaked.

  His heart slammed wildly. His thoughts shattered. His breath hitched. And without realizing— His eyes closed.

  Guards drew their swords.

  Someone shouted, “ASSASSINATION!”

  Another yelled, “SHE’S ATTACKING HIS MAJESTY!”

  “SEIZE HER!”

  “PROTECT THE EMPEROR!”

  Eyan snapped back to himself.

  His eyes flew open and he shoved Eva away hard, his breath ragged, pulse roaring in his ears. She stumbled back—but didn’t fall.

  Their eyes locked. The world blurred.

  Eyan mouthed silently, desperately— “Run.”

  Eva’s lips curved upward. A wicked, triumphant smile. Then she spun on her heel and ran.

  Chaos exploded.

  “She kissed the Emperor—!”

  “DON’T LET HER ESCAPE!”

  “ARREST THAT WOMAN!”

  Eva sprinted, skirts flying, laughter bubbling uncontrollably from her chest.

  “ARANEL—RUN! NOW!” she shouted over her shoulder.

  Aranel screamed and bolted after her. “EVA YOU’VE LOST YOUR MIND—ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US EXECUTED?!”

  Eva laughed louder, turning her head just enough to glance back. Her eyes met Eyan’s. The smile she gave him was bright, reckless, alive.

  Knights thundered after them, armor clashing, boots slamming against marble.

  Eyan stood abruptly, panic clawing up his spine.

  He took a step forward.

  The air shifted.

  Every knight chasing Eva suddenly collapsed.

  One by one—then all at once. Bodies hit the floor with heavy thuds. Gasps turned into screams.

  “THE GUARDS—THEY CAN’T MOVE!”

  Eyan froze. Slowly, he turned his head.

  Luca stood beside the throne, calm as ever, hands relaxed, eyes sharp, magic still humming faintly in the air.

  “You wanted her to escape,” Luca said mildly, as if stating an obvious fact.

  Eyan exhaled shakily, tension draining from his body all at once.

  His knees weakened. He sat back down on the throne, one hand flying up to cover his mouth.

  His chest heaved.

  His face burned.

  His lips still tingled.

  The hall buzzed with panic, shouting, confusion—yet all Eyan could feel was the lingering warmth on his lips and the madness she had unleashed.

  “Princess…” he muttered hoarsely.

  His voice trembled with disbelief, anger, shock—and something dangerously close to longing.

  “…are you insane?”

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