Chapter 330: The Imperial bedchamber and The Aphrodisiac

Finally, Kristina stopped at a set of double doors at the very heart of the suite. The silver handles were carved into the shape of interlocking wings. She paused, her hand hovering over the latch, her voice dropping into a tone of careful, professional neutrality.

“The Imperial bedchamber,” Kristina said.

She pushed the doors open, revealing a room of magnificent, terrifying scale.

The Imperial Bedchamber was not a room; it was a manifestation of the North’s predatory grace.

Under a vaulted ceiling where ornate plasterwork mimicked the swirl of a gathering blizzard, the space unfolded in shades of cream, silver, and a blue so pale it was almost white.

At its center, raised on a dais of polished marble, sat the bed… a sprawling landscape of midnight silks and the heavy, plush furs of mountain wolves.

But it was the floor that stole the breath. A thin, magical layer of water, barely an inch deep, carpeted the entire room.

It didn’t freeze, held at a constant, perfect warmth by the palace’s geothermal veins, and it acted as a dark mirror, reflecting the flickering candlelight and the carved columns that rose like frozen trees to meet the rafters.

But it wasn’t the silk or the silver that caught her; it was the word Kristina had used.

“Say that again?” Eris asked, turning back to the girl.

Kristina didn’t blink. “The Imperial bedchamber, Your Majesty.”

“Not the Empress’s bedchamber?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Kristina explained, a small, knowing glint finally appearing in her eyes. “The Imperial bedchamber. Which you and Emperor Soren will share.”

Eris stared at the bed, her mind reeling. “Share.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. It is the oldest tradition of the North. The Sovereigns of Nevareth do not keep separate quarters. To do so is considered a sign of a fractured empire.”

Eris felt a sigh building in the back of her throat. Of course. In a land where everything was a symbol of strength and unity, even sleep was a political act.

She could already imagine it, Soren invading this space with his restless energy, his heat, and his constant, maddening distractions.

She would have no sanctuary from his teasing, no wall to hide behind when his gaze grew too heavy.

“The Emperor personally oversaw the decorations of this room,” Kristina added, stepping back toward the door. “He spent several nights here before your arrival, ensuring the temperature and the placement of the furs were to your liking. He wanted to ensure your comfort.”

Eris closed her eyes for a brief second, a wry, exhausted smile touching her lips.

Of course he did.

The man was relentless. He had spent his evening marking his territory, and now she was standing in the middle of it.

“I see,” Eris said, her voice low. “Thank you, Kristina.”

“We will prepare you now, Your Majesty,” Kristina said, her voice a calm anchor in the opulence.

The ritual was efficient and silent. Attendants moved with practiced hands, unlacing the silver ribs of the reception gown and letting the heavy silk pool into the water with a soft, liquid hiss.

Eris was led to the bathing chamber, where a pool of water waited, thick with the scent of crushed winter roses and rare oils that shimmered like oil slicks on the surface.

The feeling was a mercy. As she sank into the depths, the tension that had tightened her muscles since the first chord of the wedding march began to thaw.

Afterward, she was laid upon a padded table, her skin damp and humming, as skilled hands worked heated oils into the knots of her shoulders.

Eris let out a low, involuntary groan of relief, the first true relaxation she had felt in a day defined by armor and expectation.

Throughout the chamber, the staff moved to light the candles… not the tallow stubs of the barracks, but tall, slender tapers infused with a scent so intoxicatingly sweet it made the air feel heavy, almost tactile. It was a fragrance of honey and musk, something that bypassed the mind and spoke directly to the blood.

“A glass of wine, Your Majesty? To settle the nerves?” Kristina offered, holding out a goblet of carved crystal.

Eris took it, her fingers still slick with oil. The wine was different from the violet vintage of the hall; it was richer, warmer, with a syrupy sweetness that coated the tongue and sent a sudden, sharp heat blooming in the center of her chest. It was delicious. She finished three glasses before she realized her skin had begun to tingle.

“This wine…” Eris murmured, her voice sounding slightly far away to her own ears. “It’s different. I’d like more.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” an attendant said, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “It is specially prepared for this night. Infused with frost-berries, wildflower honey, and certain… mountain spices.”

Eris leaned back, feeling the tingle travel down her arms, settling in her fingertips and the sensitive curve of her neck. “And what else?”

The attendant didn’t look up as she refilled the glass. “And a very potent aphrodisiac, Your Majesty.”

Eris sat up abruptly, the silk sheet slipping dangerously low. “What?”

“For the wedding night,” the girl explained, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather. “It is traditional for the bride and the groom. It… assists with the duty of making heirs. It ensures the union is fruitful.”

Eris stared at the violet liquid, her heart beginning to kick against her ribs. That explained the sudden, humid weight in her limbs. That explained why the air felt too thick, and why her skin felt suddenly, agonizingly over-sensitive to the brush of the air.

“When does it wear off?” Eris demanded, her voice tight.

“It is designed to last all night, Your Majesty,” the girl chirped cheerfully.

“All night?” Eris’s mind flashed… vividly, terrifyingly… to Soren. She pictured him in this room, his hands on her skin, her body responding with a hunger she wouldn’t be able to fight. “Why all night?”

“To encourage breeding, Your Majesty!” another attendant added with genuine, wide-eyed excitement.

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