Chapter 147: Chapter-147

But through it all, what everyone would remember wasn’t the rituals.

It was the way Heena and Larus looked at each other.

The way his eyes never left her face, filled with wonder and devotion.

The way she smiled at him with genuine warmth, letting her mask slip just enough to show real feeling.

The way they moved together, perfectly synchronized, as if they’d been partners for years instead of weeks.

When the High Priest finally declared them married, when Larus was officially proclaimed Emperor Consort with full imperial authority—

The crowd erupted.

Cheering, applause, flowers being thrown from the upper galleries, nobles rising to their feet in approval or resignation or acceptance.

And in the center of it all, Heena and Larus stood together.

The Empress in her revolutionary red gown.

Her Consort in his white and gold glory.

Partners.

Equals.

Together, they would change everything.

And the empire—ready or not—would follow.

As soon as the wedding ceremony finished—well, calling it “finished” was generous because apparently the ’actual’ ceremony was just the opening act in what was turning out to be a marathon of ritualistic torture—Heena found herself sitting in an open ceremonial carriage, waving at crowds like some kind of performing monkey.

She turned to Larus with a smile plastered on her face, speaking through gritted teeth while maintaining her pleasant expression for the masses. “Tell me honestly—does your kingdom have this many ridiculous traditions, or is mine specially designed to torture its rulers?”

Larus, who was also waving with practiced grace, his smile bright and genuine-looking, replied in the same ventriloquist-through-a-smile voice: “We have three ceremonial parades maximum. This is your ’fifth’ lap around the capital.”

“’Fifth?’” Heena’s eye twitched slightly, though her wave never faltered. “I’ve lost count. Everything looks the same. Are we passing the same baker’s shop again?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” one of the attendants riding alongside confirmed helpfully. “The parade route circles the capital district three times, then the merchant quarter twice, then—”

“How long total?” Heena interrupted.

“Approximately four more hours, Your Majesty.”

Heena’s smile became slightly more manic. Larus noticed and discreetly squeezed her hand.

“At least the people seem happy?” he offered.

And they did. The streets were absolutely packed with citizens cheering, throwing flowers, holding up children to see the imperial couple pass. Elderly women were crying happy tears. Young girls were sighing dreamily. Men were raising cups of wine in toast.

“Yes, they’re ’thrilled’,” Heena muttered. “Meanwhile, I’m developing a permanent wave-cramp in my wrist and I’m fairly certain I’ve smiled so much my face is going to freeze this way.”

“You look beautiful,” Larus said, and the genuine warmth in his voice made her turn to look at him.

“Flatterer,” she said, but she was actually smiling—a real one this time.

“I mean it,” Larus insisted. “Even exhausted and plotting the murder of whoever designed this parade route, you’re still the most stunning person I’ve ever—”

“YOUR MAJESTIES!”

A young girl had broken through the crowd barriers, clutching a bouquet of wildflowers and looking up at them with enormous, star-struck eyes.

The guards moved to intercept, but Heena held up a hand.

“It’s fine,” she said, signaling for the carriage to slow. She leaned down. “Hello there. What’s your name?”

“L-Lily, Your Majesty,” the girl stammered, her face bright red. “I—I picked these myself. For you. For your wedding. Because you’re so beautiful and brave and—”

She thrust the slightly wilted bouquet upward.

Heena took it gently, her expression softening genuinely. “These are lovely, Lily. Thank you.”

“Is he really your husband now?” the girl asked, staring at Larus with wide eyes. “Is he really a prince?”

“He is,” Heena confirmed. “Would you like to say hello?”

Larus leaned down with an easy smile. “Hello, Lily. Those are beautiful flowers. Did you grow them yourself?”

The girl nodded frantically. “In my mama’s garden! The pink ones are my favorite!”

“Mine too,” Larus said warmly. “You have excellent taste.”

The girl looked like she might faint from happiness.

As the carriage resumed its glacial pace through the streets, Heena tucked the wildflowers into her bouquet of formal roses and orchids.

“That was kind,” Larus observed.

“That was strategic,” Heena corrected. “Now that girl will tell everyone in her neighborhood that the Empress personally accepted her flowers and spoke to her. Good public relations.”

“Can’t you just admit you have a soft spot for children?”

“Absolutely not. That would ruin my reputation.”

Larus laughed, and the sound made several nearby citizens sigh romantically.

—

Three and a half hours later, the parade ’finally’ concluded back at the palace gates.

Heena practically fell out of the carriage, her legs stiff from sitting, her face aching from smiling, her hand cramping from waving.

“Thank God that’s over,” she muttered, accepting Larus’s hand to steady herself. “Now we can finally rest and—”

“Your Majesties!” Her aunt appeared, looking far too energetic for someone who’d been watching the parade from a comfortable viewing platform. “The next ceremony begins in thirty minutes. You’ll need to change into your ceremonial mourning robes.”

Heena stopped dead. “My ’what?’”

“Mourning robes, dear. For the ancestral tomb ceremony. You must present yourselves to the late Emperor and Empress and receive their blessing on your union.”

“They’re ’dead’,” Heena said flatly. “How exactly are they going to bless anything?”

Her aunt’s fan snapped open with a sharp ’crack’. “Heena. Do not blaspheme at your own wedding.”

“I’m not blaspheme—” Heena started, but Larus squeezed her hand gently.

“It’s fine,” he said quietly. “We’ll get through it together.”

Heena looked at him, saw the slight exhaustion around his eyes that matched her own, and sighed.

“Fine. Mourning robes. Ancestral tombs. What else?”

“After the tomb ceremony, there’s the temple blessing,” her aunt continued briskly, consulting a scroll that seemed to be at least three feet long. “Then the formal banquet with the noble families, then the gift presentation ceremony, then the consummation verification—”

“The ’WHAT?!’” both Heena and Larus said simultaneously.

“I’m joking about the last one,” the Duchess said with a completely straight face. “But the others are mandatory. Come along. We’re on a schedule.”

—

## The Royal Tomb Ceremony

Thirty minutes later, Heena and Larus stood in the imperial mausoleum wearing heavy ceremonial robes in dark purple and black—the colors of respectful mourning.

The tombs were underground, lit by hundreds of candles that cast flickering shadows on marble walls carved with the names and deeds of every emperor and empress who had ever ruled.

It was beautiful in a solemn, slightly creepy way.

“This is where your parents are buried?” Larus asked quietly, looking at the massive stone sarcophagi.

“The bodies that birthed this form,” Heena corrected just as quietly. “I never knew them. Celeste’s memories of them are… complicated.”

The High Priest—who apparently was required to officiate ’every’ ceremony today—began the ritual.

Heena and Larus had to kneel before each royal tomb, offering wine and incense. They had to recite prayers in Old Imperial, a language so archaic that Heena barely understood half the words she was saying. They had to perform three prostrations before the Emperor’s tomb, then three more before the Empress’s.

Heena’s knees hurt. Her back hurt. The incense was giving her a headache.

But then, as they knelt before her father’s tomb, something unexpected happened.

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