The palace gates closed behind her.
The sound echoed.
Too loud.
Too final.
Aurelisse Veyrane walked through the grand corridor with perfect posture, her steps measured, her expression serene.
Servants bowed.
Guards knelt.
Ministers lowered their heads.
She acknowledged none of them.
Her mind was elsewhere.
Still.
On him.
'…Annoying,' she thought.
The throne room doors opened.
Light poured in.
Gold.
White marble.
Power.
Her world.
And yet—
It felt… empty.
She sat upon the throne.
The court resumed.
Voices rose.
Petitions began.
Trade. Borders. Disputes. Executions.
Normally, she would process all of it with ruthless efficiency.
Today—
She heard the words.
But they did not stay.
They slipped past.
Her fingers tightened slightly on the armrest.
Her heartbeat was calm.
Her control was absolute.
And still—
Something was wrong.
'Why,' she thought.
Her gaze drifted.
Without meaning to.
To the side.
To a place where no one stood.
But he should have.
The memory struck.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Simple.
His calm eyes.
His stillness.
The way he did not lean forward.
The way he did not try.
The way he did not react.
'He did not look at me like a queen,' she thought.
'He looked at me like… a person.'
Her jaw tightened.
That was unacceptable.
She was not a person.
She was authority.
She was law.
She was consequence.
And yet—
A boy had looked at her without fear.
Without hunger.
Without ambition.
'…Why didn't you want anything,' she thought.
The court continued.
A noble was arguing.
Another was sweating.
A third was begging.
She raised her hand.
Silence fell instantly.
Her voice was calm. Perfect.
"Denied."
The noble froze.
She did not even look at him.
Her eyes had drifted again.
To nothing.
Her lips pressed together.
'This is inefficient,' she thought.
'This is unlike me.'
She hated inefficiency.
She hated disorder.
She hated unpredictability.
And Caelum Noctyrr was all three.
She closed her eyes for half a second.
His presence returned.
Not his face.
His feeling.
The quiet pressure.
The strange sense of… rightness.
As if something missing had briefly existed.
Her breath slowed.
Her control reasserted.
But the emptiness remained.
Deeper now.
Sharper.
She dismissed the court early.
Shock rippled through the hall.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
She rose.
Turned.
Walked.
The corridor felt longer than usual.
The palace felt larger.
Colder.
The air itself seemed thinner.
Her heels echoed.
Once.
Twice.
Alone.
She entered her chambers.
The doors closed behind her.
Silence.
Real silence.
The kind that presses.
She stood still.
Did not move.
Did not sit.
Her gaze swept the room.
The furniture.
The curtains.
The windows.
Everything was the same.
And yet—
It felt wrong.
'…He should be here,' she thought.
The thought came uninvited.
Unwanted.
She frowned.
Her brows knit.
Her fingers twitched once.
'Ridiculous,' she thought.
'This is irrational.'
She walked to the window.
Looked down at the capital.
People moved like ants.
Small.
Insignificant.
Replaceable.
Her world.
Her domain.
And yet—
It did not satisfy her.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Regal.
Cold.
Untouchable.
But her eyes—
They were not cold.
They were bright.
Disturbed.
Alive.
'You are a problem,' she thought.
'And I do not tolerate problems.'
She turned from the window.
Her steps slowed.
She stopped.
Halfway across the room.
Her hand lifted slightly.
Paused.
Lowered.
Her lips parted.
Then pressed together.
She did not understand it.
And that angered her.
No one existed in her world without explanation.
No one.
'Why do you stay in my mind,' she thought.
'You did nothing.'
And that was the problem.
He had done nothing.
No flattery.
No fear.
No submission.
No desire.
And yet—
He had remained.
Her chest felt… tight.
Not pain.
Not weakness.
Pressure.
Like something coiled.
Like something waiting.
Her eyes darkened.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
'You are not special,' she thought.
'You are not important.'
The words did not convince her.
She sat on the edge of her bed.
Her posture was still perfect.
Even alone.
Even unseen.
Her fingers curled into the fabric.
Once.
Then relaxed.
'You are only a boy,' she thought.
Silence answered.
She did not like the silence.
She lay back.
Stared at the ceiling.
Her thoughts returned to him.
Again.
Unwanted.
Uncontrolled.
Her heart beat once.
Harder.
She closed her eyes.
'…Caelum Noctyrr,' she thought.
The name felt wrong in her mind.
Too soft.
Too personal.
She exhaled slowly.
Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet.
Unheard.
Unroyal.
"Why…"
The word faded.
No answer came.
Only the emptiness.
And the growing certainty—
That he would not leave her thoughts.
That he would not be forgotten.
That something had begun.
And she had not chosen it.
Her eyes opened.
Sharp.
Focused.
Dangerous.
'Then I will adapt,' she thought.
'Like I always do.'
Her lips curved.
Not in a smile.
In decision.
Possession.
Control.
Outside, the palace slept.
Inside, a Queen lay awake.
And far away—
In a ducal house filled with warmth and light—
A boy lived quietly.
Unaware.
That the most powerful woman in the continent now found her world—
Incomplete without him.