As Heena was about to show Larus the gift she’d prepared, he suddenly spoke up, his voice lower than usual but sohow firr, more resolute.
"Your Majesty, may I make a wish?"
Heena paused, an intrigued expression crossing her face. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with genuine curiosity.
"Of course," she said. "What is it?"
Larus t her eyes directly, and there was sothing in his gaze—determination mixed with vulnerability, confidence mixed with hope.
"Your Majesty, I want this gift to be given to in the throne room. In front of all the nobles. In front of the entire court."
Heena raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request. "Are you sure? It might be sothing completely useless, you know. I haven’t exactly told you what it is."
Larus smiled—a soft, genuine expression that made her heart do that annoying flip again. He shook his head slowly.
"No matter how useless it might be, if it’s given by you, it would be the most important thing in the world to ."
Before Heena could respond to that unexpectedly sweet declaration, her aunt’s voice cut through the mont like a knife through butter.
"Are you ’sure’, Prince Larus?" the Duchess asked, her tone carefully neutral but with an edge of warning underneath. "It could be literally anything. It might be just a wooden flower. Or a dead flower. Or a dead insect. Or—heaven forbid—an actual dead body. Her Majesty has a rather... unconventional sense of gift-giving sotis."
"Aunt!" Heena protested.
"I’m simply being honest, dear," the Duchess replied serenely. "Rember that ti you gave the Minister of Finance a box of angry wasps because he’d annoyed you?"
"That was ’one ti’ and he deserved it," Heena muttered.
Larus, despite this concerning information about his wife’s gift-giving history, smiled even more warmly.
"Whatever it is," he said with absolute certainty, "I will accept it gratefully. Because it cos from Her Majesty. That alone makes it valuable beyond asure."
A satisfied, almost predatory smile flashed across Heena’s face. She liked this. She liked that he was willing to trust her so completely, to put himself in a potentially vulnerable position in front of the entire court, all because he believed in her.
"Well," she said, her voice taking on a more formal tone, "if my lovely husband has made such a sincere request, how could I possibly refuse?"
She turned to look at her secretary, who had appeared at so point during the conversation and was standing nearby with his ever-present stack of docunts and his perpetual panda eyes.
"Assemble the morning court," Heena ordered. "Full attendance. All nobles of sufficient rank. And make sure the five consorts are present as well. I want everyone there."
The secretary’s eyebrows rose slightly—the most dramatic expression of surprise anyone ever saw from him—but he simply bowed.
"It will be arranged within the hour, Your Majesty."
With that, he turned and walked out with his characteristic efficient stride, already ntally composing the summons that would send the palace into a frenzy of confused speculation.
Heena turned back to Larus, her expression softening slightly.
"I hope you know what you’re asking for," she said quietly, just for him. "Once I do this publicly, there’s no taking it back. Whatever I give you will be witnessed by hundreds of people. They’ll talk about it for years."
"Good," Larus said simply. "Let them talk. Let them see that you chose . That you value . That I’m not just a political pawn or a pretty ornant, but your actual partner."
Heena felt sothing warm bloom in her chest at those words.
"You’re going to fit in perfectly here," she said with genuine approval.
---
## One Hour and Twenty Minutes Later
The throne room was packed.
And when Heena said packed, she ant ’packed’. Every noble of sufficient rank had been summoned on extrely short notice, and they’d all co because when the Empress suddenly calls an ergency court session the day after her wedding, you ’show up’.
The massive hall was filled with confused, anxious, curious nobles all whispering to each other, trying to figure out what this was about.
"Do you think sothing’s wrong?"
"Maybe there’s been an attack?"
"Could it be about the consort situation?"
"I heard Prince Larus requested this eting himself—"
"—on his ’first day’ as Emperor Consort? That’s bold—"
"—or incredibly stupid—"
The five consorts stood in their designated positions near the throne, looking equally confused and wary. Kieran’s jaw was tight with tension. Adrian kept scanning the crowd as if trying to figure out what was happening through sheer analytical power. Damien’s eyes were calculating, already running through possibilities. Raphael clutched his prayer book like a lifeline. Lucian looked the most relaxed of the five, but even he seed curious about what was about to unfold.
The massive doors at the far end of the throne room suddenly swung open.
"ANNOUNCING HER IMPERIAL MAJESTY, EMPRESS CELESTE! AND HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, EMPEROR CONSORT LARUS OKMANA!"
The herald’s voice bood through the hall, and everyone imdiately fell silent and bowed.
Heena entered first, walking with that confident, powerful stride that made it clear she owned every inch of this empire. She wore formal court robes in deep crimson and gold, the imperial crown glittering on her head, looking every inch the absolute ruler she was.
Behind her ca Larus, and several nobles actually gasped.
He wore white and gold to match Heena’s crimson, his jewelry catching the light from the massive chandeliers overhead. But more than his appearance, it was the way he carried himself—confident but not arrogant, proud but not haughty. He walked like soone who knew exactly where he belonged.
The Duchess followed a few steps behind, a slight smile playing at her lips, her fan moving in that slow, asured way that suggested she was thoroughly enjoying whatever was about to happen.
Heena walked up the steps to the throne and sat with practiced grace. Larus paused near the base of the stairs, standing in a position that was clearly visible to everyone in the hall but still deferential to Heena’s higher position.
"You may rise," Heena said, and three hundred people straightened in unison.
The whispers started imdiately.
"What’s happening?"
"Why did Prince Larus call this eting?"
"Is sothing wrong?"
Heena let the speculation build for a mont, then raised one hand for silence.
The hall fell quiet instantly.
"Today’s court session was not called by ," Heena announced, her voice carrying clearly through the massive space. "This eting was requested by my newly wedded husband, Emperor Consort Larus."
The whispers exploded again, louder this ti, tinged with shock and confusion.
A ’consort’ calling a court session? On his ’first day’?
That was unprecedented. Consorts didn’t summon the court. They attended when required, advised when asked, but they didn’t independently call etings of the entire noble assembly.
Who did this foreign prince think he was?
Heena let them whisper for exactly ten seconds, then spoke again, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
"Prince Larus has made a request of . A formal request, witnessed by my aunt and my staff. And as his wife and his Empress, I have chosen to honor that request here, before all of you, so that there can be no question of its legitimacy."
She stood, and the hall fell silent again, everyone watching with rapt attention.
She looked down at Larus, her expression becoming more serious, more formal.
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