The Villainess Wants To Retire Chapter 421: Torture pt 2

The silence that followed was heavy enough to feel physical. Soren’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle pulsed in his cheek. Aldric’s expression darkened into a mask of grim concern.

"After attacking the guard, she used her magic to create a massive distraction, a blinding localized blizzard within the courtyard," Jorel explained quickly. "By the ti visibility cleared and my n had secured the Duke, she was gone. She knows that estate better than anyone; she likely used the service tunnels or the hidden garden paths."

"The search?"

"We searched the manor top to bottom imdiately," Jorel said. "Secured the periter and sent riders through the surrounding woods. We’ve monitored the city gates and posted n at the hos of her known associates. But so far... nothing. She has vanished into the city."

Soren stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. He walked to the window, staring out at the darkened spires of the city. His mind was already miles ahead, calculating the trajectory of a desperate woman.

Bianca Virelya. Desperate. Loose. And utterly obsessed.

She has nothing left, Soren thought. Her father is in a cage. Her na is ruined. And she blas one person for it all.

"She’ll target the Empress," Soren said. It wasn’t a guess. It was a statent of fact.

Aldric looked up. "You think she’s that far gone?"

Soren turned back to the room, his eyes blazing. "I know she is. Bianca’s entire identity was built on the idea of becoming the Empress of Nevareth. She believes Eris stole her life, her crown, and her husband. She doesn’t see the politics or the treason; she sees a thief. She’ll try to hurt her, Aldric. She has nothing to lose now."

Soren’s voice beca a whip, cracking with the authority of a commander on a battlefield.

"Jorel. I want the guard around the Empress’s chambers doubled imdiately. I want it done discreetly, I don’t want her feeling like a prisoner in her own ho, but I want a periter that a shadow couldn’t slip through. No one gets close to her without my personal clearance. Not a servant, not a scribe, and especially not a Virelya."

"Continue the city-wide search," he continued, pacing the length of the rug. "Check the abandoned grain stores in the lower district. Question the Virelya servants again, soone knows her hiding spots. Offer a full imperial pardon and protection to anyone who provides information leading to her location."

He stopped, looking Jorel directly in the eye. "And Jorel... when you find her, I want her alive. She has to answer for the attack on the guard, and I want her in a cell where she can’t touch Eris. Understood?"

"Understood, Your Majesty," Jorel bowed deeply. "I’ll see to it personally."

After Jorel hurried out to execute the orders, the study fell back into a tense, vibrating silence. Soren didn’t sit back down. He continued to pace, his movents frantic and jagged.

"Eris can handle herself," Soren muttered, more to himself than to Aldric. "She’s the Fire Queen. She’s fought demons and survived more than any mage can handle. She’s fought things Bianca couldn’t even imagine in her worst nightmares."

He stopped, staring at his own reflection in a dark glass cabinet. "But that doesn’t an I..." He cut himself off with a frustrated sigh. "I need to keep her safe. If anything happens to her because I was too busy signing papers..."

Aldric watched him with a mixture of pity and exasperation. "She’ll be fine, Soren. The guards will watch her, and as you said, Her Majesty is formidable. She’s not a porcelain doll."

"I know," Soren said, running his hand through his hair again. "I know she isn’t. But that doesn’t stop from..." He stopped again, the word loving her hanging unsaid in the space between them.

Aldric waited a mont, then decided he had had enough of the imperial theatrics. "Why haven’t you told her?"

Soren stiffened. "Told her what? I just gave orders to protect her."

"Don’t play stupid, Your Majesty," Aldric said, crossing his arms. "Why you’ve been avoiding her. Why you’re cooped up in this room. How you feel. Why don’t you just tell her what’s really going on in that head of yours?"

Soren’s jaw clenched, his walls slamming back into place. "It’s not that simple, Aldric. There are protocols, there is the trial, and there is the fact that she..."

"It is that simple," Aldric interrupted, his voice rising in frustration. "Just talk to her. Whatever ghost you think you saw in the garden, whatever you think she’s feeling for the Southern King, it’s all noise. Just talk to your wife."

"I said it’s not simple!" Soren snapped, his voice echoing off the stone walls. It was sharper than he intended, a raw outburst of the pressure building behind his ribs. He turned his back on Aldric, effectively shutting the conversation down.

The silence that followed was brittle. Aldric didn’t leave, and Soren didn’t move. Finally, Soren spoke, his voice so quiet it was barely a whisper. He didn’t look back; he kept his eyes fixed on the frost-cracked window.

"What if I’m wrong?"

Aldric softened. "Wrong about what?"

Soren struggled with the words, his throat tight. "What if she doesn’t..." He stopped, the fear laid bare in the trembling of his hands.

"Doesn’t what?"

"Feel the sa," Soren whispered. The words were a confession, a truth he had been running from since he first saw her in Solmire. "It’s better not to know. It’s better to live in this... this uncertainty, than to know for certain that I am just a political necessity to her. That she only tolerates my touch because she has to. If I ask, and she tells her heart is still in the South... I don’t know if I can co back from that."

Aldric looked at the slumped shoulders of the man he had helped raise. He saw the Emperor of the North, but he also saw the scared boy who had never felt like he was anyone’s first choice.

"Your Majesty..." Aldric started, but he found he didn’t know what to say. How do you convince a man that he is loved when he is convinced he is a shadow?

"Leave it, Aldric," Soren said, his voice regaining its cold finality. "Subject closed. Go ho. We have a festival to open tomorrow."

Aldric recognized the dismissal for what it was, an absolute end. He bowed, though his heart wasn’t in it. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He headed for the door, but before he left, he paused with his hand on the silver handle. He looked back at Soren, who was still standing by the window, a solitary figure against the encroaching dark.

"For what it’s worth..." Aldric said quietly. "I think you’re wrong. About her. I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you aren’t looking at her. You aren’t the only one afraid, Soren."

Soren didn’t respond. He didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, a king in a cold room, watching the snow begin to fall over his city.

Aldric left, the door clicking shut. Soren was alone again, the silence returning to claim him. Tomorrow was the festival. Tomorrow he would have to stand beside her. And tomorrow, he would have to find a way to be her Emperor, even if he couldn’t be the man who held her heart.