Chapter 67: Chapter 66. Plan & Innocence
Vivianne didn’t say much when everyone began to talk. Instead, she silently instructed Undine to create a barrier around them so that no one outside could hear their conversation. Undine responded instantly, her magic unfurling like a living wave that spiraled upward, enclosing the group in a shimmering dome of blue light.
Roxanne had already given orders; Marvessa was told to teach Red about the royal palace and lead a small group of knights to secure Anton and Sarah Wyndham andbring them back to the Wyndham territory. Inside the barrier, the world outside grew silent, muffled beneath the soft hum of Undine’s magic.
WWhile Ashkareth and Roxanne spoke about their plans, Morwenna was captivated by the beauty surrounding them. TThe barrier Undine created is unlike anything she’s ever seen, even as a spirit bearer herself. She could summon water, shape it into shields, and even wield it as a weapon, but nothing compared to this. This is artistry born from pure divinity, the power of a spirit king.
The barrier rose like a spiraling vortex, a dome of liquid light rippling with concentric waves that pulsed as though the water itself had a heartbeat. IIts surface gleamed like molten sapphire, each motion casting soft reflections across their faces. The water shimmered, dense yet transparent, swirling in perfect rhythm with Undine’s will. It spun, folded, and wove upon itself endlessly, as if the entire dome were breathing.
Morwenna’s eyes softened with memory. The beauty of it reminded her of the years she had lost, the moment her father died, and Dietrich ascended as emperor. That alpha boy had made the greatest mistake of his reign by sending her away. Because that was all she had ever wanted: freedom.
Her father had never granted it. He had kept her confined in the palace, using her as a tool to pry secrets from the spirits she bonded with. To him, she wasn’t a daughter but a weapon. Dietrich, however, in his arrogance, had done what she couldn’t do for herself; he exiled her. And she accepted it with open arms.
Then he sent Roxanne north to guard the most dangerous border in the empire, a decision born out of control and fear. He thought distance and duty would break her spirit, that isolation would tame the fire in her blood. Yet even that had backfired spectacularly.
In the unforgiving cold of the North, Roxanne didn’t wither; she thrived. The solitude that was meant to cage her instead became her kingdom. Away from the reach of the imperial court and its chains, she forged her path, one built on strength, loyalty, and unity.
Not only had she grown more powerful, but she had also built something far greater than the empire had ever intended. She gathered those the world had cast aside: mixed-bloods, outcasts, and exiles from every corner of the continent. Those who had no home found one under her banner. Those who had no voice learned to roar again.
Roxanne gave them purpose, a place to belong, and the security no empire had ever offered. What began as a frozen outpost turned into a thriving northern stronghold, Borgia, the land of the forsaken, reborn into power.
Through years of determination, she had gained not only armies but also hearts, loyalty, and a power that even Dietrich, sitting on his throne, could no longer command. The North no longer served the empire. It followed Roxanne.
"But why were you staring at Marvessa earlier?" Vivianne suddenly blurted out after what felt like a long pause, her brows drawn together in curiosity.
Ashkareth looked amused by her sudden question. "Ah, that," he said with a lazy shrug. "Because she’s close with Mara. And Mara’s father happens to be the uncle of the current Beastmen King." His tone is so casual, as if he were talking about the weather rather than something that could shift political alliances.
Vivianne frowned, tilting her head slightly. "And why, Marvessa? Do you think she can do something about it?" Her voice carried honest confusion, the kind that made Morwenna’s lips curve into a knowing smile.
"Oh, dear," Morwenna said with a light laugh, her tone teasing but gentle. "You’re so innocent. Is my daughter your first alpha ever?"
"U–uh... yes?" Vivianne admitted quickly, her face instantly flushing crimson. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet Morwenna’s amused gaze.
In this life, Roxanne was her first, and she wanted her to be the only one. The only person who could touch her, hold her, and protect her. The thought alone is enough to make her chest tighten. Because in her previous life, there had been many alphas—too many.
Alphas who used her as they pleased, night after night, while her so-called husband, Emperor Dietrich, never lifted a finger to stop them. Never cared enough to protect what was supposed to be his mate. The memories clawed at the back of her mind, dark and suffocating, but they scattered like mist when Roxanne’s hand brushed against hers.
Morwenna chuckled again, leaning back with the air of someone who knew far more than she intended to say. "You’ll understand later, sweetheart," she said, her smile soft but laced with mystery.
Vivianne blinked, clearly unsatisfied. "Later? What do you mean, later?" she asked, turning to her wife with a puzzled frown.
Roxanne simply smiled, that confident, unshakable smile that made Vivianne’s heart melt every time. She leaned in closer, the distance between them dissolving until Vivianne could feel the faint warmth of her breath. "Later, wife," Roxanne whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "I’ll explain everything later."
Vivianne’s face only grew redder as she mumbled a soft, "O–okay..." though her eyes still held questions she couldn’t quite voice.
Across the table, Ashkareth grinned, clearly entertained by the exchange, while Morwenna sighed contentedly. "Ah," she murmured, watching the two of them with a mother’s quiet delight, "young love really is the sweetest kind of chaos."
-
Erengard Royal Palace
"They left, and no one could stop them." Dietrich’s voice tore through the whole room, his words filled with fury as he glared down at the chancellor. His fingers cut the air as if he could seize the retreating pair and drag them back by force.
Gerhard stood rigid, absorbing the emperor’s temper the way an old tree takes a storm. "Your Highness," he said, forcing calm into his voice, "the Grand Duke is a powerful alpha. You are the only one who can face her directly."
Dietrich didn’t answer with words. He snatched a crystal goblet from the table and hurled it at Gerhard’s head. The glass struck with a sick, wet sound, scattering droplets like tiny stars across the marble floor. Gerhard didn’t flinch or move; he only let the rush of pain bloom at his temple and kept his mouth closed.
Inside, his thoughts churned dangerously. "If the emperor himself cannot stand against her, how can any of us? How do you expect the empire to hold when its ruler is a child with a crown?"
"You know very well she is stronger than I ever was!" Dietrich barked, pacing like a trapped beast. His face had gone pale with anger; his hands trembled. Pride and panic warred behind his eyes.
"I have done what I could, Your Majesty," he said evenly. "Open conflict will not bring her back. If I die in battle and she still walks free, the empire would lose its chancellor and gain nothing." He kept his tone low but firm, aware that any sign of weakness would be devoured by the emperor’s rage.
Dietrich’s jaw worked. He clicked his tongue in contempt. "It’s your duty to stop her," he spat.
"And it has been my duty to keep the empire from ruin," Gerhard answered. "Threats will only deepen the rift. I cannot sacrifice it on a hope." He met the emperor’s eyes without flinching, which earned him a fierce, bitter glare.
"I’m the emperor! It’s my duty to keep the empire from ruin! Not you! Your duty is to do whatever I told you to!" Dietrich’s rage voice rang again; he huffed.
For a moment the room held its breath. Then Dietrich turned, as if to seize some new weapon from the air. "Are the Wyndham pair still here?" he demanded.
"Yes, Your Highness," Gerhard replied. He could feel the question like a trap snapping shut; the emperor’s plans were made of spite and rashness.
"Then do something," Dietrich ordered, voice low and dangerous. "Make them talk. Break them if you must. Bring Roxanne and bring Vivianne back to my feet."
Gerhard’s mouth tightened. "I will see what I can do, Your Highness," he said carefully. He bowed and stepped back, the weight of the emperor’s expectation like iron on his shoulders.
As he left the chamber, Gerhard wiped the bleeding cut with a cloth the maid thrust toward him; the corridor’s cold stone seemed to drain the color from his face. He pressed a finger to the cut above his eyebrow and tasted blood, then told the maid to go away.
His head filled with so many thoughts and reasons,he stepped toward where the Wyndham couple resided and locked up in the royal palace. For him to be ready to make a deal with a Wyndham isn’t something he ever thought before, but when the Emperor is being like this, there’s nothing he can do.
Thoughts crowded his head: "Who among the nobles would break? Which knights could be trusted to act with discretion? How many more coins would the emperor squander on spies, on thugs, on failed plots? The empire’s coffers were thin; its patience, thinner." Gerhard is groaning, and he’s closer to the tower where the emperor locked Anton and Sarah Wyndham.