emperor chapter 21

Chapter 11 – The Letter

Returning to his office after the meeting, Lowell discovered a letter resting on his desk. Miniel’s handwriting. Contrary to Miniel’s expectations, Lowell didn’t tear the letter to shreds or erupt in fury. Instead, as if savoring the situation, he pressed it to his chest. Deciphering her thoughts through the traces she left behind was a pleasure for him.

Had Miniel been anxious, wondering if he’d see through her facade of normalcy while harboring these thoughts? Now that she had fled, was she terrified of being caught? In Lowell’s mind, Miniel’s face shifted through a kaleidoscope of expressions, most tinged with varying degrees of fear.

“…Miniel.” Losing a sliver of his composure to a flicker of excitement, Lowell released a heated sigh, sliding down the wall until he landed on the floor. Even a rag doll would possess more emotional depth than she did. He wasn’t particularly expressive himself, but Miniel was on another level entirely.

He had been certain a political marriage to Miniel would be unbearably dull. Yet, the demure woman who had stood by his side until the end of their wedding ceremony had suddenly transformed. His attempt to efficiently fulfill his husbandly duties on their wedding night had been met with unexpected resistance. Confused, he’d consulted his advisor, who suggested a conciliatory gesture with fruit. Following this advice, he’d found himself catching Miniel as she quite literally fell from the sky on his way to the temple. He knew his wife was a saint, blessed by the divine, but surely not an angel. He couldn’t deny a growing curiosity about her next unpredictable move.

“Interesting.” Was this what affection felt like? This urge to tease, to provoke a reaction, to chase her down and bind her hand and foot? It seemed so.

Miniel in his arms had been smaller and more fragile than he’d imagined, like a delicate creature. He’d made a mental note to be mindful of his strength even as he ruthlessly punished those who dared lay a finger on what belonged to him. Secretly, of course. There was no need to burden the timid Miniel with such trivial matters.

Yet, Miniel seemed to know more than he’d allowed. How? He’d left no evidence, silenced all witnesses. This unsettling feeling was entirely new to him. His eagerness to unravel her was met with rejection. In a fit of pique, he’d taken his frustration out on a convenient scapegoat.

For several days, tucked away in the imperial palace, he’d immersed himself in work, figuring that out of sight was out of mind. Then, a suitable pretext presented itself. The divine oracle. It would be a natural way to see her again. Yes, seeing her would be easy enough, but that wasn’t the point.

“I want to see her? I… want to see her?” The tangled thoughts made it impossible to focus on his work. Resigned, he’d requested a meeting, and the appointed day arrived. Lowell arrived long before the agreed-upon time.

Surely, it’s not because I missed her. His carefully constructed denial crumbled the moment he saw her. In a world drained of color, she alone possessed a vibrant luminescence. Beside her, even the most exquisite flowers, the most beautiful people, seemed to fade into insignificance. Was it her attire? He wasn’t sure. A vague certainty settled within him: married life with Miniel wouldn’t be dull after all. It was then he finally acknowledged his feelings. Irritating, but perhaps useful. Lowell decided to make temporary use of a certain pawn.

As anticipated, his wife fell into the trap. The injury on his arm, as he’d told Miniel, wasn’t from Helion. His attention remained fixed on Miniel. But the fear of frightening her away kept him tightly leashed. So, when she granted him permission to mark her, he hadn’t been able to contain the overflowing possessiveness.

‘Miniel, this is your fault.’ All that remained was to shackle her, discreetly, without her knowledge. But somehow, she’d escaped again. No matter. Perhaps, even… desirable.

“I hope you’ve run far away.” It would make the chase all the more exhilarating. Would she cry when they met again? Or would she be consumed by terror, as she had been when he’d threatened to destroy her slave? Whatever she did, he would find it pleasing. His violet eyes, alight with a predatory gleam, shimmered dangerously.