The Imperial Palace was a cathedral of dominion—its marble colonnades inscribed with conquests, its golden arches stretching toward heavens long since conquered. But true power tonight did not sit on a throne or sign decrees.
It walked, uninvited, through the heart of the lion's den.
Kael moved like shadow through silk, his steps echoing down the silent corridor of the Empress's wing. He did not ask permission. He did not announce his presence. A man like him did not request an audience.
He summoned consequences.
The two Imperial Guards at Selene's door tensed, hands ghosting toward their blades. Their discipline did not mask the flicker of dread that passed through them. The Duke of Shadowmarch needed no introduction.
Kael did not slow.
His presence pressed down upon them, not with force, but inevitability.
The guards parted.
He entered without a word.
Inside, the scent of jasmine and parchment hung in the air like memory. The chamber was imperial, yes, but elegant—not ostentatious like Castiel's throne room. Rich crimson drapes framed a fireplace's glow. Books lined the shelves. A single desk sat at the center, lit by the flicker of candles.
And behind it—Empress Selene Valerius.
She didn't look up right away. She finished signing her parchment with practiced calm before placing the quill down, fingers precise, movements deliberate.
Only then did her gaze rise to meet his.
"You've never cared for protocol, have you?" she said, voice velvet with a blade beneath.
Kael's lips curved slightly. "Protocol is for those who ask."
Selene leaned back, observing him like one might a coiled serpent. Her emerald eyes revealed nothing—but Kael saw the minute shifts. The way she controlled her breath. The twitch in her wrist. Alert, calculating. Not afraid.
Curious.
"To what do I owe the honor, Lord Arden?" she asked, tone poised like a dagger resting on a silk cushion.
Kael stepped forward, gloved fingers brushing along the edge of her desk with the idle threat of a man who could command an empire's fall in a whisper. He leaned in—not enough to touch, but enough to invade.
"The Princess has made her move," he murmured.
Selene didn't flinch. "Seraphina always was impulsive."
"She's offered me the Empire," Kael said. "Or rather, a role in burning it to the ground."
Selene smiled—slow and sharp. "And will you play her game?"
Kael's eyes didn't leave hers. "No."
He paused. Let silence fill the space between them.
"I prefer my own."
Selene rose slowly from her seat. The shift was subtle, like a tide turning. "And what game is that?"
Kael circled the desk—close now, near enough to see the pulse beneath her throat.
"I'm not here to serve a crown," he said. "I'm here to decide who wears it."
Her voice was cool. "And you think I can be... decided?"
He stepped behind her, fingers ghosting over the back of her chair. She didn't turn. Neither yielded.
"I'm not here to negotiate," he said, voice low, near her ear. "I don't need your loyalty. I will take your place beside me because this Empire no longer answers to your husband. Not truly."
She inhaled slowly.
"And if I resist?"
Kael's breath brushed her neck. "Then I'll make you want to surrender."
A charged pause.
Selene turned then—face-to-face, inches apart. The Empress. The Duke. Two sovereign forces with blades behind their words and storms behind their eyes.
Her voice, when it came, was quieter.
"Is that a threat, Kael Arden?"
"No." His gaze held hers, burning with ice and certainty. "It's a promise."
Her lips parted slightly—whether in reply or something else, even she didn't know.
But Kael did.
She was no longer unreachable.
She was intrigued.
And that was the first step toward domination.
To be continued…