The Villainess Wants To Retire Chapter 90: "Patience"

Soren

Sleep had long abandoned .

After the chaos of the day, the arrival, the laughter, the market, the discovery of the stowaway, I had thought exhaustion would finally win. Rarely as it did. But the mont I lay down, silence beca a trap. Every ti I closed my eyes, I saw her.

So I got up.

The night air outside the inn was cool enough to bite, laced with the sharp tang of the River. My n were awake, gathered around a lantern, murmuring over parchnt maps and inked routes.

I joined them, though I barely listened. They didn’t need my direction; they knew what to do. I sat on the low stone ledge instead, rolling a rock between my fingers, pretending to be part of their planning.

In truth, my mind was far elsewhere.

Eris.

She’d been the only thing in my head for days now. The only constant. It was pathetic, really, to be an emperor, surrounded by war councils and strategy, and still find myself wondering what she might look like the next ti I saw her. Would her hair be loose again, falling down her back like firewater? Would she look at with that sa careful defiance, the kind that could make a man forget his na?

I thought of her voice, the way it curved around my na when she was angry, how easily it could cut and soften in the sa breath.

And then I thought of the mont she said she was leaving Solmire tonight.

The relief that had flooded had been almost dizzying.

Before that, for a mont, I had feared she might stay, that she’d turn back to Caelen and the kingdom that had never deserved her. The thought had sat in my chest like a blade. But she hadn’t stayed. She’d looked at , chosen , if not with love, then with trust. That was enough for now.

I was halfway through that thought, wondering whether I could ever win her heart, when I heard her voice.

"You don’t sleep much, do you?"

My head lifted.

She was walking toward .

The courtyard torchlight kissed the edges of her silhouette, her cloak pulled close, hair spilling like the moon across the fabric. I hadn’t expected her. I’d said I was waiting, yes, but it had been half a jest, half a wish. I hadn’t truly believed she’d co.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

"I could ask you the sa," I said lightly, shifting to make space beside . I brushed a bit of dust off the stone, a useless gesture of chivalry, and nodded toward it. "You can sit, if you like."

She hesitated, always so careful, even now, then walked the rest of the way and lowered herself beside . The air changed instantly. Warr. Sharper.

From this close, the moonlight touched her skin like reverence. Her profile was all quiet fire, the faint curve of her lashes, the soft gleam at the corner of her mouth, the proud line of her throat. I found myself staring, completely unashad.

She noticed, of course. "You’re staring again," she murmured.

"Why should I sleep," I said, smiling, "when I can stare at you all day?"

Her head turned just enough for to catch the sharp flick of her glare. It made grin wider. I liked her like this, irritated, alive.

"Do you always do that?" she asked suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Make jokes like that. Be... flirtatious." The word seed strange on her tongue, as though she wasn’t used to saying it. "Is it sothing you do with every woman that dares to cross your path?"

I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Only with won who rival your beauty." I paused, just to enjoy the faint lift of her brow. "Which, I’m afraid, I haven’t t."

She sighed, that kind of sigh that ant she was trying not to smile. "You should learn to behave, Your Majesty. Keep this up, and you’ll scare away all the won who actually like you."

I frowned. "What won?"

"The ones you’ll et in Nevareth," she said smoothly, eyes still forward. "If you keep flirting with an older, divorced woman, they might get jealous."

That stung more than it should have.

Older. Divorced. She said it like a verdict. Like a wall she already built up between us.

"You are my wife," I said before I could stop myself.

That made her look at . Disbelief flashed across her face. "We haven’t exchanged vows officially," she reminded, voice cautious.

"It doesn’t matter." I leaned a little closer. "We could do it now. My authority allows it."

She scoffed, quietly, elegantly. "You should learn patience, Emperor."

Patience. The one thing I had never been good at.

Without thinking, I reached for her hand. Her fingers were warm, hot, even, like holding sunlight. My thumb brushed against her knuckles before I could stop it, and I watched the small hitch of her breath.

"Then perhaps you can teach ," I said softly.

Her brows knit. "Teach you what?"

"Patience." I clasped her hand tighter, smirking. "If you must know the kind of woman I like..." I brought her hand up slowly until it rested near my cheek. "It’s older won who teach how to wait."

Her face went blank for a second, and then the faintest, prettiest flush crept up her neck.

I almost laughed from the sheer triumph of it.

She yanked her hand back at once. "You need to learn to respect your elders." She started to rise, probably to escape before I said sothing worse.

But instinct moved faster than thought.

I caught her wrist gently, and tugged her back down. Not beside this ti. Onto .

She landed on my lap with a startled sound, half glare, half breath, and I shifted just enough to steady her weight. Though I must confess the brush of her figure against was torture.

Still...

My arms ca around her without command, fitting perfectly around her waist.

Her body went tense. "What do you think you’re doing?"

"Warming myself," I murmured near her ear. "It’s cold."

"You have a cloak."

"This is better."

She sighed, but it wasn’t sharp this ti. More... resigned. And though she grumbled under her breath about "inappropriate emperors," she didn’t move away.

Slowly, her weight settled into . I could feel her warmth seeping through every layer of cloth, a living, steady heat that made the cold in my bones retreat. My chin brushed her shoulder; her hair slled faintly of smoke and sothing softer, sothing I couldn’t na.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t dare.

Minutes slipped by, stretched thin by the sound of her breathing. The courtyard around us had gone utterly still, the kind of stillness that makes every heartbeat sound too loud.

When I finally looked down again, her head had tilted slightly against my chest.

Asleep.

Her lips parted in the faintest sigh. A lock of hair fell across her face, glowing faintly in the moonlight. I brushed it aside without thinking, my fingers barely grazing her skin.

And for once, the world didn’t feel divided between fire and ice.

Just quiet.

Just her.