But under the table, her foot pressed down more firmly, pinning him in place.
Larus’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t stand up without making it ’extrely’ obvious what was happening.
He shot Heena a look that was equal parts pleading and accusatory.
She smiled back innocently.
"Actually," Heena continued, "perhaps you should stay. This information will be important for you to know as future Emperor Consort. Military deploynts, infrastructure repairs, trade negotiations—you’ll need to be familiar with all of it."
"I... yes... Your Majesty," Larus managed weakly.
The four consorts were now openly staring.
Sothing was clearly happening, but they couldn’t figure out ’what’.
"Is there... sothing we should know about?" Damien asked carefully, his analytical mind clearly working through possibilities.
"Not at all," Heena said cheerfully. "Please continue. The dam repairs—fifty thousand gold, you said?"
Kieran looked like he wanted to throw sothing, but his military discipline held. He took a deep breath and continued through gritted teeth:
"Yes. Fifty thousand gold pieces. The work would take approximately three months, during which we’d need to divert water flow and possibly evacuate downstream villages as a precaution—"
Heena’s foot moved in a slow, deliberate pattern against Larus’s inner thigh.
Larus bit down on his hand to stop himself from making a sound, his eyes squeezing shut.
"—and there’s the question of who would oversee the project," Kieran continued, his voice getting louder and more forceful, clearly trying to power through whatever was happening. "The Minister of Public Works is incompetent, so we’d need to appoint soone more capable—"
"Mmm," Heena humd thoughtfully, as if deeply considering this problem. "What do you think, Larus? Who would you recomnd for overseeing such a critical project?"
Larus lifted his head from the table just enough to shoot her a look of pure betrayal.
"I... I think... whoever Your Majesty... deems most... qualified..." he managed to gasp out.
"How diplomatic," Heena said with approval.
Her foot pressed down again.
Larus’s head dropped back to the table with another ’thunk’.
Adrian finally spoke up, sounding annoyed: "Your Majesty, with all due respect, if Prince Larus is genuinely unwell, perhaps we should reschedule this eting. He seems to be in considerable... distress."
"He’s fine," Heena said dismissively. "Just adjustnt to palace life. New environnt, new responsibilities. It’s overwhelming. He’ll adapt."
Under the table, she was absolutely rciless.
Kieran, who had now reached his limit of patience, slamd his hand down on the table.
"Your Majesty! This is a ’critical’ strategic eting about the empire’s security and infrastructure! Could we ’please’ have everyone’s full attention?!"
Heena looked at him with raised eyebrows, her expression perfectly composed.
"You have my complete attention, Consort Kieran. I’ve been listening to every word. The bandits in the east require military reinforcent. Trade routes are suffering, impacting revenue. The eastern dam needs fifty thousand gold in repairs over three months. The Minister of Public Works is incompetent."
She rattled off the details flawlessly, proving she’d been paying attention despite her... extracurricular activities.
"Did I miss anything?" she asked innocently.
Kieran stared at her, clearly frustrated but unable to argue since she’d clearly been listening.
"No, Your Majesty," he said tightly.
"Excellent. Please continue."
Beside her, Larus was gripping the table edge like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to reality, his face buried in his arms, trembling.
The four consorts looked at each other, clearly suspecting ’sothing’ but unable to prove or address it.
And Heena just smiled pleasantly and continued her tornt, enjoying every minute of Larus’s suffering.
This eting was going to be very, very long.
And very, very entertaining.
At least for one person at the table.
.
.
# The Mask Falls
---
The eting dragged on for about half an hour when suddenly there was a knock at the door.
A maid entered and bowed. "Your Highness Prince Larus, your etiquette instructor is waiting for your scheduled lesson."
The reaction was instantaneous and hilarious.
Larus literally ’leaped’ up from his chair like a man who’d been given a divine reprieve from torture. He rushed toward the door as if a lion were chasing him.
Well, it should be called a ’lioness’.
A laugh flashed across Heena’s face. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying desperately not to burst out laughing in front of the four consorts.
Larus paused at the doorway, turned back to look at Heena, and made an exaggerated pouting expression—like a child who’d been teased rcilessly and wanted her to know he was ’very’ upset about it.
Then he turned his head and fled.
The mont the door closed behind him, Heena couldn’t control herself anymore.
She burst into genuine, unrestrained laughter—the kind that ca from deep in the belly, the kind that made her shoulders shake and her eyes water slightly.
The four consorts sitting across from her were completely stunned.
They stared at her face, unable to look away.
They had ’never’ seen her laugh like this. So freely, so genuinely, so... blissfully happy.
In three years of marriage, they’d seen her smile coldly, smirk with satisfaction, occasionally show amusent—but never this. Never pure, unguarded joy.
The laughter continued for several monts, filling the office with a sound that was almost foreign in this space that was usually so serious and controlled.
Then, as soon as the sound of Larus’s footsteps faded completely down the corridor, Heena’s laughter stopped.
Abruptly.
Like soone had flipped a switch.
Her expression completely transford.
The playful glint vanished. The smile disappeared. The softness evaporated.
What remained was cold, flat, and utterly serious.
She looked at the four consorts with eyes like ice.
"So," she said, her voice now completely businesslike and sharp, "you want to assign soone to fix these problems? Allocate imperial resources to address these crises?"
Kieran, Adrian, and Raphael were visibly taken aback by the sudden change in her deanor.
The woman who had been laughing monts ago had vanished, replaced by the Empress they knew—calculating, cold, and dangerous.
She looked at them with an expression that could freeze water and said flatly:
"Consorts, do you think I’m a fool? Or do you think the imperial treasury is your father’s money that you can waste however you please?"
They stared at her with surprise.
Literally minutes ago, she’d been listening to their briefing without complaint, seemingly engaged and cooperative. Now this.
Adrian spoke up, his face showing carefully crafted concern: "Your Majesty, I... I don’t understand what you an."
Heena looked at them and let out a harsh laugh—nothing like the genuine laughter from monts before. This was mocking, cutting.
"Do you need to remind you about the details you conveniently left out?" She turned her gaze specifically to Kieran. "Let ask you sothing, ’Concubine’ Kieran—these eastern bandits. Where do they originate from? The ’true’ origin. The ’real’ source."
Kieran’s jaw tightened. "I... don’t recall the specific details—"
"You don’t ’rember’?" Heena’s voice dripped with sarcasm. "Let refresh your mory then."
She leaned forward, her eyes boring into him.
"They co from a small county known as Basiya. Does that ring any bells? Do you rember whose territory Basiya falls under?"
Kieran’s eyes trembled slightly. His hands clenched into fists.
Heena continued, her voice sharp as a blade: "It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? That Basiya happens to be your mother’s birthplace. And not only that—right now, this territory is under your family’s direct control and administration."
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