Kieran looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. Adrian’s mind was clearly calculating the economic implications and coming up with numbers that made his face go pale. Damien’s analytical expression had cracked into sothing like genuine disbelief. Raphael’s hands were white-knuckled on his prayer book. Even Lucian looked stunned.
Several nobles were actively protesting now, their voices rising in a chaotic din of objection and disbelief.
Heena raised one hand, and silence fell instantly.
"If anyone has objections," she said coldly, "you may write them down, seal them in an envelope, and set them on fire. Because I don’t care."
That shut everyone up very effectively.
The secretary, clearly enjoying himself now despite his professional deanor, cleared his throat and continued:
"’’Fourth’’, Emperor Consort Larus is hereby granted the ’’Muram Banquet’’, with all rights, privileges, and honors pertaining thereto."
This ti, the reaction was different.
The younger nobles looked confused—what was the Muram Banquet?
The older nobles looked like they might actually die of shock right there in the throne room.
Because the Muram Banquet wasn’t just an honor. It was ’the’ honor. It was a ceremonial recognition that dated back to the empire’s founding, granted only to those who had perford extraordinary service to the imperial family. Only emperors and empresses received it automatically. Others had to earn it through decades of service, through military victories, through extraordinary contributions to the empire’s prosperity and security.
In the last hundred years, exactly three people had received it: a general who’d saved the previous emperor’s life, a scholar who’d revolutionized agricultural practices and prevented a famine, and a diplomat who’d negotiated a peace treaty that had lasted forty years.
And Heena had just given it to Larus.
Who had been Emperor Consort for exactly one day.
Who hadn’t perford any service yet.
Who hadn’t earned it through anything except—
The secretary’s voice cut through the shocked silence, and there was definitely amusent in his tone now as he delivered the final line:
"These gifts are bestowed in recognition and appreciation of the delicious ’’kheer’’ Emperor Consort Larus prepared for Her Majesty on the first day of their marriage. Let it be recorded that such excellent dessert rits excellent rewards."
For approximately three seconds, the entire throne room was absolutely silent.
Then chaos erupted.
"KHEER?!"
"All of this for DESSERT?!"
"She’s giving away half the empire’s wealth for a BOWL OF RICE PUDDING?!"
"This is insane!"
"The Empress has lost her mind!"
"This is outrageous!"
Several older nobles looked like they were genuinely having heart attacks. Duke Ashford was actually clutching his chest and breathing heavily. Countess Marlowe had gone so pale she looked translucent. Even so of the younger nobles who’d been relatively supportive of Heena looked shocked and confused.
And Larus...
Larus stood at the base of the throne steps, looking absolutely stunned.
His face had gone pale, then flushed, then pale again. His eyes were wide with genuine shock. His mouth opened and closed several tis without any sound coming out.
He had made the request to receive his gift publicly. He had expected ’sothing’—maybe a symbolic token, maybe a nice piece of jewelry, maybe so small honor or title.
He had ’not’ expected his wife to essentially hand him a fortune that would make him one of the wealthiest, most powerful people in the empire.
For ’kheer’.
Finally, he seed to regain his composure. His training kicked in, and he dropped to one knee with practiced grace, bowing his head.
"I... I thank Her Majesty for these extraordinarily generous gifts," he said, his voice shaking slightly with emotion. "I swear to honor them, to use them wisely, and to serve the empire and my Empress with all my ability."
Heena descended the steps with fluid grace, her crimson robes flowing around her like living fire.
She stopped in front of Larus and reached down, taking his hand.
"Stand up," she said firmly.
Larus looked up at her, confused.
"Stand ’up’," Heena repeated, pulling gently on his hand. "You are my equal now. You are Emperor Consort, holder of the Imperial Jade, lord of the Pearl Territory, recipient of the Muram Banquet. You bow to no one."
She pulled him to his feet, and he rose, still looking dazed.
"Except," Heena added with a slight smile, "on very specific ceremonial occasions where tradition absolutely demands it. And even then, we’ll bow together, as equals."
Larus’s face flushed red—not from embarrassnt, but from overwhelming emotion.
"Your Majesty, this is too much—" he started to whisper.
"It’s not enough," Heena interrupted quietly, just for him. "You asked to give you your gift publicly. You trusted completely, without knowing what I’d give you. You put yourself in a vulnerable position because you believed in ."
She squeezed his hand.
"That deserves to be rewarded. And more importantly, I needed everyone in this room—every noble, every council mber, every one of those five idiots standing over there—to understand exactly what you an to ."
"What do I an to you?" Larus asked softly.
"Everything," Heena said simply. "You’re my partner. My equal. My choice. And I wanted them all to see that I’m willing to give you everything I have to prove it."
Larus’s eyes were suspiciously bright.
"I don’t know what to say," he admitted.
"Then don’t say anything," Heena replied. "Just stand here beside and look imperial. We need to address the screaming nobles."
She turned back to face the court, and sure enough, several nobles were still protesting, their voices rising in a confused cacophony.
Heena raised one hand, and silence fell—though it was a tense, angry silence this ti.
"I understand," Heena said, her voice carrying clearly through the hall, "that so of you may find these gifts... excessive."
"Excessive" was apparently the understatent of the century, based on the expressions facing her.
"I understand that you may question the wisdom of granting such significant resources and honors to soone who has been Emperor Consort for exactly one day."
Nods of agreent rippled through the crowd.
"I understand," Heena continued, her voice becoming harder, colder, "that you may think I’ve lost my mind, or that I’m being manipulated, or that I’m making emotional decisions without considering the political implications."
More nods.
"Well," Heena said, and her smile was sharp enough to cut, "you’re all wrong. And I’m going to explain why exactly once, so listen carefully."
She gestured to Larus, who stood beside her looking both overwheld and trying very hard to appear composed.
"Prince Larus—’Emperor Consort’ Larus—is my primary consort. Not one of several. Not a political convenience. Not a token foreign prince to secure an alliance. He is my ’chosen partner’, and I have granted him these gifts to make absolutely certain that everyone understands exactly what that ans."
She began walking along the front of the assembled nobles, her eyes scanning the crowd.
"The Imperial Jade of Orohu represents military authority and conquest. I’m giving it to him because he will have authority over military matters equal to my own. When he gives an order regarding defense, troop movents, or military strategy, it carries the sa weight as if I gave that order myself."
Several military nobles shifted uncomfortably.
"The Lavender Palace and its independent authority exists because my husband deserves a space that is entirely his own, where he can build his own household, his own staff, his own power base without interference. Because partners support each other’s independence, not try to control every aspect of each other’s lives."
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