Amara's POV – Continuation
His grip tightened around my hand—not hard, not desperate, just enough to say he was still holding on. Still trying.
But when he spoke, the softness cracked.
> "You know I can't apologize," Chris said, voice cold again. "I will lose my power. A ruler who bends publicly never gets up the same. For me to apologize… the crown falls. The wolves smell blood. Tell me another thing to do."
There it was.
The fear he'd never admit out loud.
Not fear of regret. Not fear of guilt.
But fear of being seen as vulnerable.
That was Chris. Always ready to bleed behind closed doors… but never in front of the empire he built with steel and fire.
I stepped back slightly, letting his hand fall from mine.
"You want another way?" I asked quietly, my voice now laced with frost. "Fine."
He watched me, unsure if he'd just regained something… or lost me again.
I straightened my posture. Empress again.
"Then honor Darius."
Chris blinked. "Honor?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "State funeral. Full Blackwood honors. But not just that—make it a lesson. Declare that his loyalty was so absolute that even in defiance, it was born from love and protection of the throne."
He hesitated. I didn't let up.
"Turn his death into loyalty immortalized. Not weakness."
Chris was quiet.
I could see it working in his mind. The gears turning. A path where he didn't have to kneel, yet still made a gesture powerful enough to steady the palace—and maybe… maybe mend us.
He finally spoke.
> "And you'll stand with me… if I do this?"
I didn't smile. I didn't reassure him.
But I answered.
> "I'll stand beside you. But not behind you."
He gave a faint nod.
"Prepare the royal hall," he said at last. "Tomorrow, Darius gets a funeral worthy of an emperor."
He looked at me again, this time with something close to humility.
"Is that enough… for now?"
I didn't answer with words.
I simply reached for his hand—this time, not as wife or subject…
But as his equal.