Chapter 148: Chapter-148

Larus, thinking no one was watching, reached over and gently adjusted the ceremonial robe that had slipped off Heena’s shoulder. His fingers brushed her collarbone, warm and careful.

“You have ash on your face,” he whispered, and before she could respond, he’d pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped a smudge of incense ash from her cheek.

The gesture was so tender, so domestic, so ’sweet’ that Heena felt something warm bloom in her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered back.

“Always,” he replied, and his smile was soft and private and just for her.

“’Ahem.’”

They both jumped and turned to find the Duchess standing there with her arms crossed, fan tapping against her palm.

“The ceremony requires ’focused reverence’,” she said pointedly. “Not flirtation in front of the imperial dead.”

“We weren’t—” Heena started.

“I saw what I saw,” her aunt interrupted. “Complete the prayers properly, please.”

Heena shot Larus a look that clearly said ’I’m going to murder her later’, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

They completed the tomb ceremony with appropriate solemnity, though Heena was definitely plotting revenge against her aunt’s interruption.

—

## The Temple Blessing

After the tombs came the temple—the Grand Cathedral of the Eternal Light, the most important religious building in the empire.

Heena had been hoping for a brief blessing, maybe some holy water sprinkled around, then freedom.

What she got was a ’two-hour ceremony’ involving:

– Purification rituals where they had to wash their hands in sanctified water seven times

– A processional around the entire cathedral while priests chanted blessings

– Prayers recited while kneeling on stone floors (her knees were going to be bruised for weeks)

– Offerings presented to ’seventeen different divine statues’

– A sermon from the High Priest about the sacred duties of marriage that felt like it would never end

At one point, while they were kneeling side by side during a particularly lengthy prayer, Larus shifted slightly closer and his hand found hers in the folds of her robe.

He didn’t say anything. Just held her hand, his thumb making small circles on her palm.

It was comforting. Grounding. A reminder that they were in this together.

Heena squeezed back, grateful.

“’Your Majesties’,” Raphael’s voice cut through the moment. He’d appeared from apparently nowhere, his priestly robes making him blend with the other clergy. “This portion of the ceremony requires separated meditation. His Majesty Emperor Consort will move to the eastern chapel, Her Majesty to the western.”

Heena’s eye twitched. “Of course it does.”

Larus stood reluctantly, giving her hand one last squeeze before following a junior priest away.

Heena glared at Raphael. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I enjoy all properly conducted religious ceremonies, Your Majesty,” Raphael replied with perfect priestly serenity.

“Liar,” Heena muttered, but she followed the attendant to the western chapel.

—

## The Noble Family Banquet

After the temple—’finally’—came the formal banquet.

Heena had changed into yet another outfit (her fifth of the day)—an elaborate dinner gown in deep crimson with gold embroidery, formal but slightly less restrictive than the wedding dress.

Larus wore matching crimson and gold, and together they entered the grand banquet hall to thunderous applause.

Three hundred nobles. Twelve courses. Endless toasts.

Heena sat at the head table with Larus beside her, and she’d never been more grateful for his presence because the banquet was ’exhausting’.

Noble after noble approached to offer congratulations, presents, and thinly veiled political maneuvering disguised as well-wishes.

“Your Majesties, what a beautiful ceremony! By the way, about that trade agreement we discussed…”

“Such a handsome couple! Speaking of couples, my daughter is of marriageable age and would make an excellent lady-in-waiting…”

“A blessed union! Have you considered appointing new ministers? I know several qualified candidates…”

Larus handled it with grace, his diplomatic training shining through as he deflected, smiled, and gave noncommittal responses that pleased everyone while committing to nothing.

At one point, during the seventh course (some kind of elaborate fish dish that Heena couldn’t even identify), she leaned toward him and whispered, “How are you still smiling? My face is going to crack.”

“Practice,” Larus whispered back. “Years of court dinners where I had to be charming while people discussed marrying me off like cattle.”

“Did they really?” Heena asked, momentarily distracted from her own discomfort.

“Oh, constantly. ’Prince Larus would make an excellent consort for the Duchess of…’ or ’Perhaps an alliance with the Northern Kingdom through marriage to Prince Larus…’” He smiled wryly. “I was a political chess piece for most of my life.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m a chess piece who chose which square to move to,” Larus said, and his eyes were warm when they met hers. “Best decision I ever made.”

Heena felt that annoying warmth in her chest again. “You’re being sappy.”

“You like it,” Larus countered.

“I don’t—” Heena started, but she was interrupted by a loud toast from Duke Remington, and she had to raise her glass along with everyone else.

Under the table, though, her hand found Larus’s and squeezed.

He squeezed back.

—

After the banquet (which lasted ’four hours’ because apparently nobility didn’t believe in eating efficiently) came the gift presentation ceremony.

This involved sitting on thrones while a seemingly endless parade of nobles presented wedding gifts ranging from the practical (land deeds, trade contracts) to the absurd (a pair of exotic birds that wouldn’t stop squawking) to the clearly desperate for favor (an entire library of rare books that must have cost a fortune).

Heena tried to pay attention, she really did, but by gift number forty-seven (a set of jade sculptures), her eyes were glazing over.

Larus, sitting beside her, noticed.

He leaned over, pretending to whisper something official about the gifts, but actually said, “Stay with me. Only thirty more gifts to go.”

“Only thirty?” Heena whispered back in mock horror.

“I’m lying. It’s probably sixty.”

“I’m going to die here. They’ll find my skeleton on this throne.”

“I’ll die with you. Very romantic.”

Despite her exhaustion, Heena had to fight not to laugh.

“’Your Majesties’,” the Duchess appeared again, because apparently she had a sixth sense for whenever they were having a moment. “Count Ashford is presenting his gift. It requires your full attention.”

Heena straightened immediately, her pleasant expression sliding back into place.

But under the table, her foot nudged Larus’s in shared frustration.

He nudged back, and it felt like a conspiracy of two against the entire exhausting world.

—

## Finally, ’Finally’, The End

By the time the last gift was presented, the last speech given, the last toast raised, it was nearly midnight.

Heena and Larus were escorted back to the imperial quarters—specifically, to the newly prepared Emperor Consort’s chambers that connected to Heena’s through a shared sitting room.

The Duchess and a small army of attendants followed, preparing to help them change into sleeping robes and settle for the night.

But Heena had reached her absolute limit.

“Everyone out,” she said flatly.

The attendants hesitated. “But Your Majesty, the traditional changing ceremony—”

“’Out’,” Heena repeated, her voice dropping to something dangerous. “Or I will personally escort you out, and you won’t enjoy the experience.”

They fled.

Even the Duchess paused at the door. “Heena, dear, there are certain rituals—”

“Aunt,” Heena interrupted, “I love you. I respect you. But if you don’t leave right now, I will set something on fire. Possibly your favorite fan collection.”

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