Edna couldn't believe what was happening.
She looked down at her hand — her dainty, well-kept fingers interlocked with his.
Azel.
She was walking through the lower districts of the capital — dressed in a plain brown dress with ivory lacing, her long hair loose and flowing, untouched by the usual castle creams or perfumes.
To anyone watching, she was just another pretty commoner out on a stroll with her lover.
Her lover.
Gods, that thought alone made her want to bury her face in her hands and scream.
She wasn't supposed to feel like this. She wasn't some fluttery girl caught up in silly fantasies.
Yet she entertained them anyway, on a daily basis…
And now here she was.
Not in a silk gown.
Not on a royal carriage.
But on foot.
On the street.
Holding hands.
With him.
She'd been trying to process how it had all happened.
One moment, Azel had asked the Emperor for permission — just like that.
