Chapter 156: Chapter-156

That comment was clearly directed at the five consorts, whose faces darkened.

“The Pearl Territory represents economic power and administrative capability. I’m giving it to him because he will need resources to fulfill his duties as Emperor Consort. He’ll need wealth to maintain his household, to fund his initiatives, to exercise real authority. Empty titles are useless. Real power requires real resources.”

She stopped walking and turned to face the crowd directly.

“And the Muram Banquet—that highest honor that you all seem to think he hasn’t earned—I’m granting him because making me genuinely happy on my wedding day is worth more than all your military victories and diplomatic achievements combined.”

Her voice rose slightly.

“You want to know why I gave him all of this for kheer? Because that kheer represented something none of you have ever given me. It represented someone taking the time to learn what I like, to create something specifically to please me, to put effort into making me happy rather than just trying to use me for political gain.”

She looked directly at the five consorts as she said this.

“He burned his hands making that dessert. He spent hours in a kitchen—something he’d never done before—because he wanted to create something meaningful for me. He trusted me enough to participate in a ritual he didn’t understand, in a culture that’s not his own, because I asked him to.”

Her expression softened slightly as she looked at Larus.

“That kind of trust, that kind of care, that kind of genuine effort to make your partner happy—that’s worth more than gold mines and trade routes. And I wanted all of you to see me reward it appropriately.”

She turned back to the nobles.

“So yes, I gave him extraordinary gifts for dessert. And I’d do it again. Because the message I’m sending is this: if you want rewards from me, if you want honors and titles and resources, stop trying to manipulate me politically and start actually caring about my wellbeing. Start treating me like a person instead of a throne. Start putting in genuine effort instead of just performing duties.”

The hall was absolutely silent now, everyone processing this unexpected emotional honesty from their usually controlled Empress.

“These gifts are not just for Larus,” Heena continued. “They’re a statement to all of you. They’re me saying: this is what I value. This is what I reward. Loyalty, care, genuine partnership—not political maneuvering and empty flattery.”

She walked back to stand beside Larus, taking his hand in front of everyone.

“Emperor Consort Larus is my equal in authority, my partner in governance, and my choice in marriage. These gifts reflect that reality. And if any of you have a problem with that—”

She smiled coldly.

“—you’re welcome to submit your formal resignation from your positions and leave the court. Because I’m done pretending that I need any of you more than I need someone who genuinely cares about me.”

The threat was clear: accept this, or leave.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Finally, the Duchess—who had been watching this entire performance with satisfaction—began to clap.

Slow, measured applause that echoed through the silent hall.

One by one, others joined in—some reluctantly, some genuinely, but they joined in.

Within moments, the entire court was applauding, because what else could they do?

Their Empress had just publicly declared her priorities, demonstrated her authority, and reminded everyone exactly who held all the power in this empire.

And Larus stood beside her, holding her hand, his face still flushed red but his expression showing wonder and overwhelming emotion and something that looked a lot like love.

As the applause continued, Heena leaned slightly toward him and whispered, “Still think you made the right choice asking for a public ceremony?”

Larus laughed—a slightly hysterical sound that contained joy and disbelief and happiness all mixed together.

“Best decision I ever made,” he whispered back.

“Good,” Heena said. “Because you’re stuck with me now. And apparently I’m the kind of wife who gives away empires for dessert.”

“I’m perfectly fine with that,” Larus assured her.

And looking at his expression—the genuine happiness, the overwhelming gratitude, the deep affection—Heena realized something that made her chest feel tight and warm.

She was perfectly fine with it too.

.

.

.

Half an hour later, sitting in her office, Heena had an expression on her face like someone had forced her to eat a week-old fish that had been left out in the sun.

Her mood was absolutely foul.

She’d genuinely thought—foolishly, naively—that after the throne room ceremony concluded, after all the nobles had been dismissed and sent on their scandalized way, she would ’finally’ get to spend some actual quality time with her new husband.

Maybe take him to see the Lavender Palace that was now his. Maybe walk through the gardens together. Maybe just sit somewhere quiet and talk without three hundred people staring at them or her aunt interrupting every five seconds.

[Like hell it woupd be a walk].

But ’no’.

Because the moment the ceremony ended, her aunt had materialized like some kind of tradition-enforcing demon and cheerfully announced that there were seventeen urgent documents that required the Empress’s immediate attention, six trade disputes that needed resolution, and a delegation from the Northern Territories who had been waiting three days for an audience.

“But—” Heena had started.

“Work before pleasure, dear,” the Duchess had said with that serene, completely immovable smile. “You’re the Empress. The empire doesn’t stop running just because you got married.”

And then she’d physically steered Heena toward her office while Larus was escorted away by attendants to “rest and prepare for tomorrow’s purification ceremonies.”

So here Heena sat, alone in her office, surrounded by paperwork, her mood deteriorating by the second.

She was the ’Empress’. She had just publicly declared Larus her equal partner and showered him with enough gifts to make the entire noble assembly have collective heart attacks.

And she ’still’ couldn’t spend time with him because of stupid work and stupid traditions and stupid—

’Knock knock.’

Heena’s eye twitched.

The sheer ’audacity’ of someone knocking on her door right now, when her mood was already approximately three seconds away from violence—

“WHAT?!” she shouted.

There was a pause from outside the door, then a timid voice: “Your Majesty, there’s a visitor requesting—”

Heena didn’t wait for the guard to finish.

She stood up so fast her chair scraped backward, strode across the office with barely controlled fury, and yanked the door open with enough force to make it slam against the wall.

And standing there, looking appropriately startled and frightened, was—

’Oh, you have got to be kidding me.’

Seraphina.

The protagonist. The heroine. The absolute ’bane’ of Heena’s existence in this world.

Standing right there in front of her office, wearing a pale pink dress that somehow managed to look both expensive and virginal, her hair perfectly arranged, her eyes already starting to well up with tears in that practiced way that usually made everyone rush to comfort her.

Heena stared at her for exactly two seconds.

Then, without a single word of warning, she raised her hand and slapped Seraphina across the face with enough force to send the girl stumbling backward and crashing to the floor.

’SLAP!’

The sound echoed through the corridor like a gunshot.

Seraphina hit the ground hard, a genuine cry of pain and shock escaping her lips.

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