Chapter 349: Dethroned

The heavy oak doors of the council chamber groaned on their hinges, swinging wide to reveal the circular expanse of the room. High above, ice chandeliers shimmered with a pale, cold light, casting long shadows across the U-shaped council table.

“Emperor Soren Nivarre and Empress Eris Nivarre!” the herald’s voice boomed.

Every soul in the room rose as one. There was a frantic, collective rustle of silk and wool as the lords and ladies of the council bowed and curtsied. But as they bent their heads, their eyes remained fixed on the two figures entering the room.

Soren moved with a casual, predatory grace, his hand resting firmly on the small of Eris’s back. He looked satisfied, his expression that of a man who had finally claimed exactly what he wanted. Beside him, Eris walked with her head high, her expression a mask of imperial frost, yet she was moving with a rigid, gingerly caution.

The whispers were like the hiss of a snake. “Look at her neck…” “Three days…” “Can barely walk…”

Eris felt the burn of a hundred stares. She wanted to vanish, to sink into the floorboards, but she forced her eyes forward. Focus. Don’t look at them. Just keep walking.

“Breathe,” Soren whispered, leaning close enough that his breath tickled her ear. “They’re already intimidated.”

“They’re staring at my neck,” Eris hissed back, her jaw tight.

“Good,” Soren murmured, his voice laced with an infuriating amusement. “Reminds them you’re mine.”

“Not helping.”

They reached the head of the table where two identical thrones of silver and dark wood waited.

Soren guided her to the right-hand seat, his hand lingering on her elbow as he helped her lower herself.

Eris winced… a sharp, localized throb in her core making the simple act of sitting an exercise in agony.

Soren noticed, his brow furrowing with a flicker of genuine concern, but she gave a subtle, sharp shake of her head. I’m fine.

Soren took his own seat and surveyed the room. The air was thick with expectation. Aldric sat at his right hand, face neutral, while Commander Ryse stood like a pillar of iron behind them.

To the left sat Regent Empress Vetra, her face a masterpiece of blank indifference, though her eyes were chips of black ice. Beside her, Duke Viktor shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping a nervous, frantic rhythm against the table.

“Be seated,” Soren commanded.

The council sat in unison. The silence that followed was heavy, expectant, and brittle.

Aldric stood, unrolling a long scroll. “The First Imperial Council of the new regency is now in session. In attendance: Emperor Soren Nivarre, Empress Eris Nivarre, Regent Empress Vetra Nivarre, Duke Viktor Virelya, Commander Ryse Thorneld…” He droned through the list of names, the formality of the ritual grounding the tension in the room. “Let the record show all required members are present.”

Soren stood, his presence expanding to fill every corner of the vaulted chamber.

“By imperial decree and the rites of succession, I hereby make the following declaration,” Soren’s voice was clear, ringing with an authority that brooked no dissent.

“The regency is concluded. Empress Eris Igniva Nivarre is confirmed as co-sovereign of the Nevarian Empire, with full authority to rule alongside the Emperor. All imperial matters may be addressed to either throne. All decrees may be issued by either sovereign.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the room, lingering just a second too long on the ministers who looked skeptical. “This is not a request. This is imperial law.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the council responded in a hollow, practiced unison.

“Additionally,” Soren continued, his tone shifting to something more diplomatic yet infinitely firmer, “I announce the administrative relocation of Regent Empress Vetra Nivarre. This is a necessary measure for security recalibration and structural necessity following the transition.”

Vetra didn’t move. She didn’t blink. But Eris saw the way the woman’s knuckles turned white where they gripped the arms of her chair.

“The Regent Empress will be relocated to the Silverkeep Estate, effective within the week,” Soren said. “The Empire thanks her for her service.”

The message was loud and clear: You are done. Leave quietly or be dragged out.

“I see,” Vetra said, her voice a thin, cold thread.

With the first blow landed, Soren sat back down, his tone turning casual. “Now. To routine matters.”

The meeting descended into the mundane, a deliberate layer of camouflage. Duke Konstantin reported on the ice ports and the reduced capacity of the northern routes. A weather specialist spoke of the Long Dark and the four hours of sunlight they could expect. Duke Aldren discussed grain reserves, and Commander Ryse gave a brief update on border rotations.

Eris found herself leaning forward, her mind clicking into place. “Commander, are the southern borders adequately staffed? With trade routes still open, I imagine there’s more traffic.”

Ryse looked surprised, then pleased. “Yes, Your Majesty. We’ve increased southern patrols to compensate.”

Eris nodded. “Good. We cannot afford bottlenecks in supply chains while the north is frozen.”

The council members exchanged glances. She wasn’t just a decorative piece of jewelry for Soren’s throne; she was thinking, and she was sharp.

Finally, the Justice Minister stood. “Your Majesties, there is one matter requiring acknowledgment. The investigation into the death of Duke Cassius Argentum. Duchess Maren Kristoff remains in custody. Public concern is growing.”

“The investigation remains active,” Eris said, her voice ringing out before Soren could speak. “No verdict will be rendered until all findings are conclusive. The Duchess is under imperial protection and will be treated fairly. Until then, the matter is closed.”

The Justice Minister bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

From the corner of her eye, Eris saw Duke Viktor’s throat bob as he swallowed hard. He looked like a man who was counting the seconds until he could escape the room.

“Actually, regarding the Treasury report,” Soren interjected, his tone dismissive, almost bored. “You mentioned minor inconsistencies in provincial levies, Marques Finn?”

The Treasury Minister blinked. “Yes, Your Majesty. Likely clerical errors—”

“Probably nothing,” Soren waved a hand, leaning back in his throne. “Provincial accounting is always messy this time of year. Harvest disruptions, seasonal delays. In any case, it’s not urgent. We’ll review it after the Long Dark passes. No need to look into it now.”

Aldric watched Viktor. The Duke’s posture relaxed, a slow, shaky breath escaping his lungs. He thought he was safe. He thought Soren was too lazy or too distracted to notice the bleeding of his provincial coffers.

The hook was set.

“If there are no other matters,” Aldric announced, “then this session is concluded. All rise for Their Majesties.”

The council stood, bowing as Soren and Eris rose to leave. Viktor was out the door the moment protocol allowed, his mind clearly racing with plans to “fix” his books before the spring. Vetra followed more slowly, a silent, venomous shadow.

Once the chamber cleared, leaving only Aldric and Ryse, Eris let out a long, shuddering exhale, her shoulders dropping. “Is it always that exhausting?”

“You did well,” Soren said, stepping close and catching her waist.

“They were staring at my neck the entire time,” she grumbled.

“And yet they listened when you spoke,” Ryse added with a grin.

“Viktor took the bait?” Soren asked Aldric.

“Like a starving fish,” Aldric replied, a thin smile touching his lips. “He’ll be at his records soon. We’ll catch him moving the funds, red-handed.”

“Clever,” Eris admitted.

Soren leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. “I learned from the best.”

“Who?”

“You,” he murmured.

Eris felt a flicker of warmth that had nothing to do with magic. “Flatterer.”

“Should I increase surveillance on Viktor?” Ryse asked.

“Discreetly,” Soren said, his voice hardening. “And Vetra. She’s cornered now. Desperate people are dangerous.”

“Which is why we stay vigilant,” Eris said, her gaze turning toward the window where the pale light was already fading. She paused, her expression softening. “Soren? What about Duchess Maren? I want to resolve her situation. Soon.”

“How?”

“I’m going to pardon her,” Eris said, her voice firm. “She was controlled by Vetra’s magic. She’s not guilty.”

Aldric looked surprised. “Your Majesty—the council won’t like it.”

Eris lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with a spark of the Witch Queen she had once been. “Then the council can be unhappy. It’s my decision. I won’t leave her to rot for a crime she didn’t commit.”

Soren studied her, a slow, proud smile spreading across his face. “As you wish, Empress.”

“I’ll prepare the paperwork,” Aldric bowed, his respect for her growing with every passing minute.

“Thank you,” Eris said, her hand finding Soren’s. For the first time since she’d arrived in this frozen land, she didn’t just feel like a player in someone else’s game. She was finally holding the pieces.

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