Chapter 47

Third Person’s POV

Hours passed, and still the candles burned low in their holders.

Musicians rotated through soft instrumental pieces near the far balcony, careful not to overpower conversation. Plates had long since been cleared and replaced.

Servants moved in disciplined silence, refilling goblets before they were empty, adjusting place settings no one was using anymore.

And still—no one left.

Because the Queen had not left.

It was an unspoken law within the palace: one does not rise from a royal feast while the monarch remains seated. To do so would be discourteous at best, insult at worst.

And so the guests lingered in polite exhaustion, backs straight, smiles measured, waiting for a signal that did not come.

At the head of the hall, elevated slightly above the other tables, Lena and Miu sat side by side.

Miu had not moved in nearly twenty minutes.

Her spine was straight, her hands folded delicately in her lap, her white gown spilling around her like untouched porcelain.

She might have been carved from marble—beautiful, composed, distant. Only the faint rise and fall of her chest betrayed that she was not a sculpture placed there for admiration.

Her gaze remained forward, unfocused, enduring the weight of a hundred glances that flickered toward her and quickly away again.

Across the hall, whispers moved like smoke—too faint to grasp but thick enough to choke on.

Beside her, Lena’s composure had unraveled in a quieter way.

A goblet rested loosely between her fingers, the stem caught lazily between two knuckles as she circled the wine within. Red liquid climbed the glass and slid back down in slow streaks, catching the light like spilled rubies.

No one knew how much she had consumed.

Five glasses. Ten. Perhaps more.

The servants had stopped counting.

Her eyes, usually sharp as tempered steel, now struggled to remain fully open. Her lashes lowered halfway before she forced them back up again.

A faint flush colored her cheeks, though whether from alcohol or something far more volatile, no one could tell.

She had spoken little all evening. Accepted congratulations with nods. Allowed Duke Christian’s watchful stare from across the room.

And drank.

She sat there, silent, swirling the wine in her goblet like it held the secrets of the universe—or at least the answer to her life choices.

I really shouldn’t have agreed to no kissing at the altar, she thought, watching the liquid spin. What kind of wedding is this if I can’t even steal a kiss from my own wife?

The wine caught the lights again and again, winking at her like it knew exactly how ridiculous she sounded, and Lena couldn’t help but think that the universe had a twisted sense of humor.

All night, her brain had been running a single, relentless loop: married, yes. Kissing… nope. Perfect.

Lena lifted her goblet once more, the wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim, when a firm but gentle hand suddenly clasped hers.

“Lena,” Miu’s voice cut through the haze of alcohol and laughter, calm but insistent.

Lena blinked slowly, her gaze unfocused at first, trying to determine if the reason she was finally noticed by Miu was the wine or the unmistakable concern etched across her face.

Probably both, she thought, letting a small, dizzy smile tug at her lips.

“That’s enough,” Miu said, her tone patient but firm. “You’re drunk. We should head inside. Think of your guests—they probably want to retire to their rooms by now, and it’s rude to keep them waiting.”

Lena stared at her, tilting her head as if examining a curious creature. Then she let out a slurred chuckle, wine-tinted and carefree.

“You… sound like an actual wife now,” she murmured.

Miu’s sigh was soft but unmistakably amused as she pried the goblet from Lena’s grasp and rose gracefully to her full height.

“Where… are you going?” Lena slurred, trying and failing to keep her balance in her chair.

“Taking you to your room,” Miu said, moving closer.

“I’ll return on my own afterward. It’s late, and I have errands in Tungsten early tomorrow.” She reached out, gently tugging at Lena’s arm.

But Lena swatted her arm away with surprising strength, frowning as she tried to regain control.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, wobbling slightly as she pushed herself upright.

Miu tilted her head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps… you have forgotten,” Lena said, swaying lightly but steadying herself against the table. “We’re married now.”

The words seemed to hit Miu like a splash of cold water. Lena straightened as best she could, hands on her hips, chest puffed out in faux indignation.

“My dear wife,” Lena began, voice dripping with mock offense, “are you suggesting we sleep in separate rooms on our first night of marriage?“

Miu’s mouth fell open, the silence stretching long enough for the distant echo of the banquet hall’s emptied clamor to remind them they were still in public. “Pardon?”

Lena huffed like a child denied candy, wobbling slightly as she gestured with both hands for emphasis. “What? We got married today, so nothing else matters?”

Miu frantically waved her hands, trying to calm the storm. “No! It’s just—”

“For your information!” Lena interrupted, jab of her finger in the air like a general giving orders. “Even if this is an arranged marriage, I am not planning to simply sit here as your spouse. We still have to conceive a child!”

Miu’s laughter bubbled up before she could stop it, though her eyes were equal parts shock and amusement. “Lena, maybe you’re forgetting… biologically, you cannot get me pregnant.”

Lena pouted dramatically, hands dropping to her sides as she leaned a little forward, eyes narrowing with faux determination. “Then I’ll just… try harder!”

Miu froze for a moment, studying the disheveled, drunk figure in front of her, and the corners of her lips twitched. A laugh finally slipped out, light and infectious.

“Okay, okay, whatever you want,” she said, her voice softening. “Just… let the others rest, alright? Come on, let’s head back inside.”

Lena tilted her head, mock reluctance playing across her features, but allowed herself to be guided gently toward the palace corridors.

Her mind still buzzed with wine and the stubborn giddiness of newlywed audacity.

She had her wife by her side, and for the first time, the world outside—the whispers, the rules, the duties—seemed a little smaller, a little less urgent.

—

Miu guided Lena through the quiet corridors of the palace, one arm securely around her waist. The lights along the walls are dimmed now, casting softer light across the marble floors.

Their footsteps echoed faintly in the near-empty halls, the celebration long faded behind them.

Lena leaned more of her weight onto Miu than she probably realized, mumbling something unintelligible as they turned the final corner.

When they reached the Queen’s chambers, Miu carefully pushed the door open with her shoulder, steadying them both as they slipped inside.

The room greeted them in stillness.

Moonlight filtered through the tall windows, spilling silver across the polished floors and the grand canopy bed at the center of the room. The air was cool, undisturbed—untouched by the noise of the feast.

“With enough dignity left in you, Your Majesty,” Miu murmured softly, half teasing, half breathless, as she maneuvered Lena toward the bed.

It took more effort than she expected, but she managed. Slowly, carefully, she lowered Lena onto the mattress.

The Queen let out a quiet exhale the moment her back touched the sheets, immediately shifting into a more comfortable position, as if the bed had been calling her name all evening.

Miu remained seated at the edge of the bed, catching her breath.

Lena’s lashes fluttered faintly before settling. Her usually composed expression softened in sleep—no crown, no authority, no steel. Just Lena.

The warmth of wine still tinted her cheeks, and a few strands of dark hair had fallen loose across her forehead.

Miu couldn’t help but stare.

Married.

The word felt unreal even now.

If someone had told her a month ago that she would be here—alone in Lena’s room, in a white gown that still whispered of vows spoken at an altar—she would have laughed. Or panicked. Or both.

It would have sounded like madness.

But looking at Lena now, breathing softly against silk pillows, something warm and steady began to settle in her chest.

This was real.

Not a dream. Not a scheme.

Real.

Slowly, almost without thinking, Miu found herself leaning closer. Her hand lifted cautiously, hovering for a second above Lena’s face.

Lena shifted suddenly, rolling onto her back.

Miu flinched, her heart jumping into her throat.

She froze, waiting. But Lena did not wake.

After a long second, Miu allowed herself to breathe again. Her fingers extended once more, this time brushing gently against the strands of hair that had fallen across Lena’s eyes.

She smoothed them away with careful tenderness, as if handling something fragile.

“You are…” Miu whispered, voice barely more than air, “…the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me.”

The confession lingered in the quiet room.

A small, unguarded smile curved her lips. Her eyes burned slightly, unshed tears gathering but refusing to fall.

She memorized the curve of Lena’s mouth, the slope of her nose, the softness in sleep that no one else ever witnessed.

She could stay there forever.

Until—

Brown eyes opened.

Clear.

Awake.

And very much aware.

Before Miu could react, Lena’s hand slid around her waist with surprising steadiness. In one fluid motion, she pulled her forward and gently—yet decisively—pinned her onto the bed beneath her.

Miu’s breath caught.

For a few suspended seconds, neither of them spoke.

The moonlight cast shadows along Lena’s jaw, sharpened the intensity in her gaze. She hovered above Miu, one hand braced beside her shoulder, the other still firm at her waist.

“Why…” Lena murmured, voice low, no longer slurred—just warm and dangerous, “…would you look at me like that?”

Her eyes traced Miu’s face slowly, deliberately.

“It drives me crazy.”

The air between them shifted—charged, fragile.

The celebration, the court, the politics—none of it existed in that moment.

Only the space between their breaths.

Only the urge neither of them could outrun anymore.