Chapter 37: Chapter-37

The smell of cooking food filled the quiet kitchen. Elara poured the eggs into the pan and stirred slowly, watching them solidify, letting the repetitive motion settle her thoughts.

She was exhausted. Her body was weak. The paperwork wasn’t finished. The other princesses would retaliate soon. The Emperor’s support was conditional. Her household was half-empty and she was standing alone in a kitchen at four in the morning cooking her own food because she’d worked through dinner and forgotten to eat.

In her old life, this would have been a Tuesday.

Elara plated the eggs, turned off the hearth, and sat at the small staff table in the corner. She ate quickly, efficiently, tasting nothing but processing fuel.

When she finished, she washed the dish herself—no point waking servants for that—and walked back through the empty halls to her chambers.

The two knights were still at their posts, still perfectly still. They didn’t comment on the fact that a princess had just cooked her own meal. They simply bowed as she passed.

Elara returned to her desk, picked up the pen, and pulled the next stack of documents toward her.

Three more hours until dawn. Enough time to finish the budget review and start drafting new household protocols.

She dipped the pen in ink and kept working.

Elara was halfway to the Merchant Quarter when a palace runner caught up to them, gasping for breath.

“Your Highness—the Emperor summons you. Immediately.”

The timing was too precise to be coincidence. Someone had reported last night’s events, and now there would be consequences.

“Lead the way.”

Twenty minutes later, she stood in a windowless chamber lit by cold mage-light. The Emperor sat behind a plain desk, expression unreadable. Six beast knights lined the walls in full armor.

“Father,” Elara said, bowing.

“Sit.”

The Emperor studied her in silence, fingers steepled. “I’ve been receiving disturbing reports about your statements at Princess Eleana’s gathering. You called bonding practices exploitative. Implied the imperial system is coercive. Multiple advisors believe you sympathize with beast knights over imperial interests.”

Elara kept her expression neutral. “I stated observable facts about power dynamics.”

“Facts that undermine stability.” He leaned forward. “You also claimed you could command any knight in your household without bonding. That you have access to twenty-four warriors for personal use. Yet you refuse to bond one. This contradiction concerns me.”

“There’s no contradiction. I stated capability, not intention.”

“Then prove your loyalty.” The Emperor gestured to one of the knights—a young wolf-clan warrior. “Demonstrate that you understand knights exist to serve royal needs. The adjacent chamber is prepared. Take this knight inside. Utilize him as imperial doctrine permits. Show me you accept the system you were born into.”

The command hung in the air like a blade.

Elara looked at the designated knight. His face remained blank, but tension radiated from every muscle. He knew what was being ordered. Knew he’d have to comply.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you confirm you’re ideologically opposed to imperial structure. House arrest, removal from succession, termination of your projects. Possibly execution.” The Emperor stood. “I’ll return in thirty minutes. Either you’ll have demonstrated loyalty, or you’ll have proven yourself a threat. Choose accordingly.”

He walked to the door, paused. “The knight has been ordered to comply with anything you command. This is entirely your decision, Elara. Make it count.”

The door closed behind him.

The Emperor’s footsteps faded down the corridor. The heavy door closed with a finality that echoed through the chamber.

Silence settled.

Elara stood motionless for several seconds, processing what had just happened. Five beast knights remained in the room with her, positioned against the walls like statues. The wolf knight Marcus stood in the center, still waiting for commands that would never come.

She sighed—not from emotion, but from the sheer inefficiency of the situation.

The previous princess would have been mortified. Humiliated. In tears at the thought of sexual intimacy with someone she didn’t love, didn’t even know. The diaries made that clear—pages of anguish about personal boundaries, romantic ideals, the sacredness of physical connection.

Elara was different.

She’d been a CEO. Had climbed corporate ladders through ruthless negotiation and strategic alliances. Had slept with male models, executives, even competitors when it served her interests. Sex was a transaction, a tool, a way to seal deals or relieve stress. Never emotional. Always practical.

Why pretend otherwise now? These knights were trained for exactly this. Expecting it. The Emperor had left her in a room with them specifically because he assumed she’d use them.

The only question was whether she wanted to.

Elara looked at Marcus. “Your name.”

He blinked, clearly expecting different words. “Marcus, Your Highness.”

“Marcus.” She walked toward him, movements deliberate, assessing. “Age?”

“Twenty-four, Your Highness.”

“Previous assignments?”

“Third Princess’s household for two years. Education duties. Combat training. Personal protection.”

She nodded once. “Remove your armor.”

His hands moved immediately, efficient and practiced. Chest plate first, then pauldrons, greaves. The underlayers came next—linen tunic, trousers. Within two minutes, he stood naked and at attention, muscles corded and scarred from training and use.

Elara walked a slow circle around him, evaluating like she would any asset. Strong. Well-conditioned. No visible injuries or defects. Exactly what the imperial system produced.

“Experience with noble women?” she asked.

“Yes, Your Highness. Extensive.”

“Any preferences?”

He hesitated—the first crack in perfect obedience. “I… prefer partners who acknowledge me as more than furniture, Your Highness.”

“Interesting.” She stopped in front of him. “And diseases?”

“None. Monthly examinations by palace physicians.”

“Good.” Elara unfastened the first clasp of her gown. “Bed.”

He moved immediately to the narrow cot against the wall, lying back without hesitation or anticipation. Trained response.

She finished undressing and climbed onto the cot, straddling his hips. No foreplay, no kissing, no pretense of romance. Just efficiency.

Marcus’s hands moved to her waist, guiding positioning with practiced skill. Elara lowered herself onto him, breath catching slightly at the physical sensation—familiar but distant, like remembering how to drive a car after years away.

She set the rhythm herself—controlled, steady, focused on friction and release rather than connection. Marcus matched her pace perfectly, hips rising to meet each downward thrust, hands steady on her thighs, breath controlled despite the physical demands.

It was mechanical. Effective. He was skilled—years of “education duties” had made him expert—but there was no passion, no mutual desire. Just two people performing biological functions with technical precision.

Elara closed her eyes and focused on the sensations: muscle tension, heat building, the steady slide of skin against skin. Her body responded predictably—arousal, building pressure, the inevitable crest. She rode it out with controlled breaths, hands braced on his chest, until completion washed through her in mechanical waves.

Marcus remained hard, waiting for her command. She considered continuing—using him for multiple rounds would be efficient—but decided against it. One was sufficient for the test.

“Finish yourself,” she said, dismounting.

He complied immediately, hand moving with practiced efficiency. Watched her the entire time, eyes careful, gauging reaction.

She dressed while he worked, movements unhurried, clinical. When he finished—quickly, efficiently—she tossed him a cleaning cloth from the bedside table.

“Dress.”

He did.

The water clock showed twenty-eight minutes elapsed. Two minutes early.

The door opened. The Emperor stood there, expression unreadable.

“Report,” he said to Marcus.

“Your Highness utilized me as commanded, Imperial Majesty. Service was completed satisfactorily.”

The Emperor looked at Elara. She met his gaze without shame or defiance—just calm acknowledgment.

“Very well,” he said. “Your loyalty appears confirmed. You’re dismissed. Return to your quarters.”

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