Genie rose slowly, the long sweep of her blue robe whispering against the floor.
"What brings you here, Jade?"
The weight of recent palace reforms softened her tone, the usual formalities replaced by something more personal—a quiet acknowledgment of the distance they both wished to close.
Jade's eyes softened as he met hers.
"I came to pray. If I'm intruding, I can lea—"
"No," Genie's voice cut through the air, steady yet warm.
"You don't have to leave."
A gentle flicker from the candlelight danced in Genie's large, clear eyes.
Feeling his gaze upon her, Genie's heartbeat stumbled, then quickened as though it sought to escape her chest.
Yet, for some reason, she could not summon the courage to meet his eyes. Instead, her gaze fixed on the flickering candles before her, their flames trembling as if sharing her unrest.
Silence wrapped around them, soft yet heavy.
Jade, sensing her hesitation, lowered his gaze to the same candles she watched so intently. Their warm light painted his sharp features in gentle hues, softening the soldier's edge he always carried.
At last, Genie drew in a quiet breath, as though gathering the pieces of her scattered courage, and spoke without lifting her eyes from the small dancing flames.
"Jade. There is something I want to say."
Her voice, usually steady and queenly, wavered like silk in a restless breeze.
"I've been thinking about this for a long time. About what my feelings for you truly are."
Jade's heart gave a sharp jolt. His hand, resting on his knee, curled into a fist before relaxing again, unsure whether to brace for pain or hope.
"But I don't think I can hide them any longer."
Finally, Genie turned her head, her movements slow, as if afraid the moment might shatter if she moved too fast.
The palace was asleep. Even the corridors outside the prayer room were silent, leaving only the soft hum of candlelight to witness them. In that sacred stillness, the small room seemed to belong only to the two of them—an intimate world suspended in time.
"I like you."
The words fell gently, but to Jade, they struck like an arrow.
He stared at Queen Genie—his queen, his sovereign, the woman he had sworn to protect—not as the unyielding, dignified ruler who presided over state meetings in the grand hall, but as someone vulnerably human, her eyes filled with earnest emotion.
'She… likes me…'
His heart raced, wild and unrestrained, each beat crashing against the walls of his chest like waves in a storm.
Genie's eyes, clear yet trembling, sought his response. She waited—quiet, patient—her hands loosely clasped on her lap, betraying a faint tremor.
But Jade turned away, unable to hold her gaze.
The joy of her confession, so sweet and unexpected, was smothered by a surge of fear that clawed at his chest.
He felt he was a man carrying a tainted past—a spy of the Ash Kingdom who had walked a path of deception and shadows. For years, he had secretly longed for her affection, dared to imagine it in fleeting dreams. Yet now, confronted with its reality, dread seeped in like poison.
'What if my past gets revealed? What if the truth comes crashing down and hurts Her Majesty?' Jade's heart plummeted.
Queen Genie, who loved her people with unwavering sincerity, who bore the weight of her crown with grace and compassion—she deserved someone unburdened, someone free of the stains he carried.
And the thought of the day she might look at him with disappointment—eyes once warm now chilled with betrayal—terrified him more than death itself.
Jade's chest ached as though bound by iron chains. He clutched at it, his hand trembling, then lowered his gaze to the flickering candles before him. Their flames swayed gently, fragile yet unbroken, like the emotions he fought so desperately to contain.
"Your Majesty, I…" His voice, low and cold, reverberated through the dim prayer room, clinging to the stone walls like a sorrowful echo. "I'm…"
But the words broke in his throat, crumbling before they could take form.
Genie's heart plummeted. It felt as though the floor had vanished beneath her, leaving only the hollow drop of silence between them. Her eyes trembled, searching for something—anything—but only found his torment, not the answer she longed for.
Slowly, sorrow took hold, soft yet cutting. She lowered her head, her hair slipping over her face like a curtain to shield her pain.
"I understand," she whispered, the words carrying a brittle smile that barely clung to her lips.
So… to Jade, I'm only a queen. A ruler to obey, not a woman to love.
A bitter curve twisted her lips as she lifted her chin ever so slightly, forcing her voice into something steadier, cooler.
"It's all right."
The words cut through Jade like a blade.
He looked at her then, truly looked, and saw it—the bitter smile she tried to hide, the sorrow glimmering at the edge of her eyes, the way she held herself together like porcelain about to crack.
She was so close—only an arm's length away, close enough for him to reach out, to pull her into his arms, to tell her the truth that was screaming in his heart.
'That I like you too… that I always have…'
But he didn't move. He couldn't.
For in his heart he believed he wasn't worthy of her—this woman whose heart was pure, whose love for her people was unwavering. To him, her future was a crown of light he dared not stain with the shadows of his past.
Genie slowly lifted her head, her eyes finding his apologetic gaze. There was pain in them—yes—but also an odd serenity, as if she had already decided to forgive him for something he had not yet done.
She offered him a small smile. It was fragile, fleeting—like a candle about to be snuffed out.
"Still…" Her voice wavered like a candle's flame in a storm, "I wanted to say it at least once… my heart. Now that I've told you, I'll try to let it go."
A sharp ache rippled through Jade's chest, hollowing him from the inside out. For so long he had longed for her love—quietly, desperately—and now, when it was laid bare before him, he could not take it. He hated himself for it, hated his own cowardice.
Yet more than that, he hated what she had just said. That she would let go. That she was already preparing to bury her feelings because of him.
His throat clenched. He wanted to speak, to tell her not to give up, not to take back the warmth she had so bravely offered. But if he opened his mouth now, he feared he would beg her.
'Please… stay. Don't let go of me.'
So he said nothing.
Genie lowered her gaze and turned away.
"I'll go in first."
Her voice was calm, almost dignified, but her steps betrayed her. Each one carried the weight of sorrow, heavy and slow, echoing softly across the stone floor.
Jade stood frozen, his hands curling helplessly at his sides as he watched her retreating back. She seemed smaller somehow, her proud shoulders sloping, as though the invisible crown she bore each day had grown unbearably heavy.
Even now he wanted to run after her. He wanted to take her hand, to turn her around and whisper into her ear the words that had been clawing at his chest.
'Your Majesty, I love you. I have always loved you.'
But his feet stayed rooted, heavy as stone.
Genie reached the door and opened it. The frigid winter wind burst into the prayer room, scattering the warmth of the candles and biting at Jade's skin like icy needles. Her hair shifted with the sudden gust, a fleeting, fragile image burned into his mind.
Then the door closed, the sound sharp and final. She was gone.
Jade stared at the door long after it had shut, as though sheer will alone could bring her back. Her confession echoed through him, pounding like a heartbeat he could not still.
"I like you."
His heart swelled, warmed by her words, yet ached bitterly knowing he could not accept the love she had offered so sincerely.
And so, on that lonely winter night, when two hearts had finally spoken only to miss one another, sorrow settled deep and silent, like falling snow.
"Your Majesty… are you awake?"
From outside the royal bedchamber, Chief Han's voice sounded cautious, almost hesitant, as if afraid her words might disturb something fragile within.
It was already late in the morning. By now, Queen Genie would normally have finished her morning training and breakfast and begun her day's affairs. Yet today, silence lingered beyond the doors.
Inside, at the sound of her trusted aide's voice, Genie slowly opened her eyes. They were swollen, her eyelids heavy and raw from the night before.
When she had returned to her quarters the previous evening, she had wept silently into her pillow, the weight of rejection crushing down on her chest until sleep finally overcame her.
But sleep had no cure. As she awoke, the pain came back in a sharp, cutting wave, as if salt had been poured onto an open wound. Her heart ached with every beat, tender and raw.