Silence swallowed the throne room whole.
Every noblewoman stared in open shock, while the Empress gripped the armrests of her sunstone throne so hard her knuckles turned white.
Her eyes darted from the warm, golden glow radiating off Misha straight to the scarred barbarian standing right beside her.
"You..." The Empress finally found her voice, though it lacked its usual commanding bite.
"My daughter. You are alive."
"I am home, Mother," Misha answered, lifting her chin so her aura washed over the marble steps.
"And I brought my husband."
Gasps rippled through the gathered court.
Armored Paladins instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons, stepping closer to the royal dais.
’Can’t push the alliance while they are holding halberds to my neck,’ Kane thought, keeping his posture relaxed.
’If we start demanding armies right now, this turns into a brawl. Time to play the polite son-in-law.’
Stepping forward, Kane offered a lazy, almost sarcastic bow.
"Your Majesty. It is a genuine honor to meet you again. I know we have a lot of world-saving politics to discuss, but your daughter just flew halfway across the continent to get here. Her heart rate is up, and she is exhausted. She needs food and a real bed before we talk about treaties."
The Empress narrowed her eyes, clearly torn between ordering his execution and rushing down to embrace her child.
Looking at Misha’s pale cheeks, maternal instinct won the battle.
"We will hold the formal council tomorrow morning," the Empress declared, waving a dismissive hand toward her royal guards.
"Prepare the grandest guest suites in the east wing. And fetch the royal healers."
"I don’t need healers," Misha sighed, leaning slightly against Kane’s arm.
"Just a long nap."
Male servants practically tripped over themselves trying to obey the Empress’s orders.
Ten minutes later, a very nervous steward led the vanguard down a wide corridor lined with towering statues of winged saints.
The poor man kept flinching every time Thora’s boots echoed too loudly against the floor, clearly expecting to be punished at any moment.
This guy looks like he expects me to eat him for dinner.
Deciding to test the waters, Kane leaned forward slightly.
"Hey, friend. What’s good to eat in this place? We prefer meat over whatever fancy salads your nobles eat."
The steward squeaked, nearly dropping his silver candelabra.
"Y-yes, my Lord! The kitchens can prepare roasted boar, or perhaps some spiced fowl, whatever you desire. Please do not strike me."
"Relax," Kane chuckled, patting the man on the shoulder.
The steward went entirely rigid.
"Nobody is getting hit," Kane promised smoothly.
"Just bring a lot of food. My friends have big appetites."
"Right away!" The steward pushed open a set of gilded double doors and practically sprinted back down the hallway.
Kane walked into the suite, letting out a low whistle.
White silk curtains framed expansive windows, and the main living area featured plush velvet couches arranged around a cold marble hearth.
Sira slipped past him like a shadow.
She immediately checked the balcony, peeking over the railing before dragging her fingers along the window frames.
"Three entrances," Sira murmured, her eyes scanning the vaulted ceiling. "One blind spot near the wardrobe. Balcony is exposed to the southern towers, so keep the curtains drawn if you don’t want snipers practicing their aim on you."
"Nobody is shooting at us today, Sira," Misha said gently, untying her travel cloak.
"Just doing my job, Princess."
Thora let out a loud groan, stretching her arms above her head.
"Finally. My back is killing me from sitting on that flying horse."
She unbuckled her weapon harness and tossed her giant halberd onto a delicate sun-wood table in the center of the room.
A loud crack echoed through the suite as the table fractured right down the middle, splintering under the weapon’s weight.
Everyone stared at the broken furniture.
"Oops," Thora grinned unapologetically.
"Guess they don’t build things like they used to."
"Thora, please," Misha rubbed her temples.
"Try not to destroy the palace before we even sign the treaty."
"I’ll just put it on the floor next time."
Kane chuckled, steering Misha toward the adjoining bedroom.
"You guys secure the perimeter and see if you can bully the kitchen staff into bringing us some drinks. I need to get my wife settled."
Closing the bedroom door behind them, Kane blocked out the noise of Thora arguing with Sira over who got the biggest couch.
The bedroom was just as extravagant as the lounge, dominated by a huge canopy bed covered in dense layers of white fur and silk.
Misha sat on the edge of the mattress, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
Her divine aura flickered, dimming as the adrenaline of facing her mother finally wore off. She rubbed her arms, shivering slightly in the crisp air.
Wrapping his arms around her, Kane pulled Misha into his chest.
He focused on his own internal energy, letting the ambient heat from his Warlord vitality radiate outward.
His skin warmed up like a furnace, providing an instant shield against the room’s chill.
Misha sighed in deep contentment, melting into his embrace.
"You run hot. It feels really nice."
"Consider me your personal space heater," Kane smiled, resting his chin on top of her head.
"You did good out there today. Your mother looked like she swallowed a lemon when you told her we were married."
"She is just shocked," Misha murmured, closing her eyes.
"She always planned to trade me away to secure a border, but she never expected me to find someone like you who could heal me."
"Someone handsome and ridiculously charming?"
"Someone stubborn and deeply annoying."
Kane laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"I’ll take it. But we both know tomorrow is going to be a bloodbath in that council room. She wants my troops, but she doesn’t want me."
"You have to play by her rules, Kane." Misha tilted her head up to look at him, her expression turning serious.
"Milfheim operates on pride and divine right. If you insult her in front of her generals, she will lock us in the dungeons, devils or no devils."
"I know how to play politics, Princess."
"Your version of politics usually involves punching someone through a wall."
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