Chapter 79: ​A Midnight Feast

Matthias was ready to roar back, his own indignation boiling just beneath the surface. But the moment his gaze locked onto hers, his anger didn’t just break—it evaporated. The sight of her tears, raw and shattering, left him utterly defenseless.

“Olivia!” he gasped, his voice frantic with worry. “What is it? Did I hurt you? Did you hurt your hand when you struck me? Why are you crying like this? Tell me, does something else ache?”

His words of comfort were like salt in a wound. Ever since the mention of rebellion and execution, the ghosts of her previous life—the silver gleam of the blade, the sound of the crowd, the finality of his death—had been playing on a loop behind her eyelids.

She collapsed against him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. Her body shook with violent, jagged sobs that she could no longer suppress.

“Please… please, Matthias,” she choked out between gasps for air. “Do not say that word again. It hurts… it hurts more than you know. Just… never again.”

Matthias felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest. He didn’t understand the depth of her trauma, but he felt the weight of her terror. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand stroking her back in a rhythmic, soothing motion.

“Alright. Shhh. I understand,” he whispered into her hair. “I won’t say it again. You have my word.”

Gradually, her breathing slowed, and the fog of the past began to lift. Realization dawned on her, followed quickly by a sharp sting of embarrassment. She had just pleaded with him over a single word and slapped him across the face—all in a span of minutes. She pulled back, sitting upright, and reached out a tentative hand to touch his reddened cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze. “I was… a bit emotional.”

Matthias caught her hand, his thumb grazing her knuckles. “You’ve started apologizing quite easily lately. No circling around the point, no screaming… it’s unlike you.”

Olivia looked up, a spark of her usual fire returning. “Are you trying to bring out the worst in me? Because I am perfectly capable of continuing the argument.”

He let out a spontaneous, genuine laugh, the tension in the room finally snapping. But it was short-lived; his expression soon settled back into a stern, rigid line. “That doesn’t change the fact that I am still livid you knelt for her.”

“Oh, shut up, Matthias. You talk too much,” she sighed, waving a dismissive hand. “Instead of lecturing me, help me change out of this dress.”

He moved behind her, his fingers working the fastenings of the heavy silk. As the fabric fell away, leaving her in only her undergarments, he paused. His eyes didn’t linger with lust; instead, they scanned her frame with a clinical, mounting concern before he reached for the nightgown.

“Olivia…”

“What now?”

“Why does your body look like this?”

She shot him a dry, mocking look. “I asked for help changing, and here you are, critiquing my physique?”

“For heaven’s sake, do you think I’m such a monster that I’d be thinking of desire while you’re in this state?” he snapped, his voice tight. “I’m talking about you. You’re skin and bone, Olivia. You’re thinner than the last time I saw you. Do you even eat at all?”

The memory of the meat she had been forced to consume—the metallic tang of blood and the visceral horror of that moment—flashed through her mind, making her stomach churn with a sudden, sharp nausea. Since that day, the very act of eating felt like an impossible chore. She remained silent, offering no answer as Matthias stared at her wrist, where the bone protruded sharply beneath her pale skin.

“You skipped breakfast this morning,” he noted, his voice low and calculating. “I doubt you touched lunch, and we returned from the Imperial Palace without a bite of dinner. Do not tell me you have gone the entire day without food.”

“I…” She tried to formulate a lie, but his unwavering gaze stripped her defenses bare.

He looked at her with a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “Are you a small child? Do I truly need to force-feed you? We have discussed this before, Olivia.”

“Yes, yes,” she snapped, waving a hand dismissively. “I will eat tomorrow. Save your lectures for the morning.”

“Tomorrow?” He hummed, a dangerous glint in his eye. Before she could protest, he seized her hand and began to pull her toward the door.

“Where are you taking me?”

Without a word, he draped her cloak over her shoulders and led her through the silent, shadowed halls of the mansion until they reached the kitchens.

Olivia looked around the cavernous, stone-tiled room in confusion. “What is this place?”

“Truly, Olivia?” Matthias sighed, shaking his head. “Do you not even recognize your own kitchen?”

“And what business would I have here to know it?” she countered, crossing her arms.

“Just sit.”

She perched on the edge of a sturdy wooden table, watching with growing bewilderment as the Duke of Luceron began rummaging through the cupboards and shelves.

“What on earth are you doing, man?”

“Finding you something to eat.”

“This is why we are here? Then summon a servant!”

“It is one in the morning,” he replied flatly, pulling out a skillet. “They are all asleep.”

“And…?”

“And I will not wake them at this hour.”

“How incredibly compassionate of you,” she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“And how incredibly cold-hearted of you,” he shot back, unfazed. “Now, let’s see… eggs, meat, bread, and some greens. That should suffice. I’m not particularly skilled with vegetables, but I’ll manage.”

Olivia blinked. “Wait. You are going to cook? How?”

“What?” He looked over his shoulder with a faint smirk. “I’ve been a warrior since my youth, Olivia. In the field, cooking is a basic survival skill. Now, be quiet and watch.”

She watched in fascinated silence, studied him for a long moment, her gaze drifting from his battle-hardened hands to the stray piece of parsley still clinging to his sleeve. A faint, incredulous smirk touched her lips.

“Is this truly the same man?” she mused, her voice a low silken thread. “The man who, only hours ago, was strangling the Empress and threatening open rebellion, is now daintily chopping vegetables like a common housewife? It is a bizarre sight, Matthias. Truly. If I weren’t so stone-cold sober, I’d swear I was witnessing a drunken hallucination.”

The aroma began to fill the room, a warm and savory scent that finally began to chip away at her nausea. He moved to the stove to prepare an omelet.

“Olivia, can you keep an eye on the eggs for a moment? Make sure they’re done.”

She stood up and stared intently at the pan. She did exactly as he asked—she watched. She watched as the edges curled, watched as the center bubbled, and watched as a plume of acrid black smoke began to rise. Matthias caught the scent of burning and spun around, frantically pulling the pan from the heat.

“Good gods! Why did you let it burn?”

Olivia blinked at him, completely earnest. “You asked me to keep an eye on it. I looked. What else did you want?”

“I meant move it with a spoon so it doesn’t burn!” he groaned, rubbing his temples. “Do you truly not know the first thing about cooking?”

“No,” she replied with a shrug, leaning back against the table. “I don’t. Perhaps God made me wealthy because He knew I’d be useless in a kitchen. Now stop blaming me for your own failures, man.”

Matthias exhaled a sharp, exasperated breath and set to work once more, whisking a fresh set of eggs with a focus usually reserved for strategy meetings. He finished the meal and slid the plate toward her with a quiet thud.

Despite the tantalizing aroma of seared meat and herbs, the prospect of finishing the meal felt like an impossible summit to climb. Olivia took up her fork and began to eat with slow, deliberate movements. After barely consuming a quarter of the portion, she felt a wave of fullness that bordered on nausea. She tried to subtly push the plate away, but Matthias’s gaze remained fixed on her, unwavering.

“It would be in your best interest to finish that plate,” he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

“I can’t,” she countered, her voice weary. “So stop bothering me with that look.”

“Fine. I won’t force you. At least you’ve had something.” He stood, clearing the space between them. “Now, you should sleep. You need the rest.”

Olivia stood as well, but she didn’t head toward the stairs. “I’m not ready for sleep yet. I think I’ll take a stroll through the gardens.”

“The gardens? Now?” Matthias asked, glancing at the darkened windows.

“Yes, now. I need the fresh air to clear her head.”

“May I join you?”

Olivia shrugged, her expression unreadable. “As you wish.”

They stepped out into the night, the cool air of the garden acting as a balm to the feverish chaos of the day. They walked in a heavy, contemplative silence, the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath their boots. It felt as though they were shedding the burdens of the palace, layer by layer, under the moonlight.

After a long stretch of quiet, Matthias broke the peace. “Olivia, I know you asked me to drop the subject, but… what exactly were you doing at the Empress’s chambers at such an hour?”

Olivia stopped, turning to face him. She studied his features, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And what exactly were you doing with the Emperor at such an hour?”

Matthias took a deep breath, the air whistling through his teeth. He looked directly into her eyes, his gaze steady and heavy with an unspoken gravity.

“I was summoned,” he said quietly. “I’ve been called to the front. The war has begun.”

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