She had stood in this room before. She remembered the windows, the scent of parchment and velvet, the hush that always settled in the Solar when the doors shut. It had once felt imposing, as if the walls themselves could judge her.
Now it felt smaller. Or maybe she had just changed.
She wasn't the woman who once stood here trying to survive behind carefully measured words and guarded eyes. She had bowed her head when it was the only thing that kept her alive in a court built to control her. That version of Seraphina had disappeared the moment she stopped apologizing for surviving.
Now she stood taller. She felt heavier, not in body but in everything she carried.
The Solar wasn't how she remembered it.
The tall windows were open, letting in the cool morning air. Light from an overcast sky spilled through, pale and thin. Curtains barely stirred. The room smelled of old stone, parchment, and the kind of dust that settled on rooms used for serious decisions.
Empress Eleanor stood in the center of the room, still in her ceremonial robes of blue and gold. The imperial crown rested on her head. She had not removed a single piece. She had not had the time. She looked like judgment made flesh.
Seraphina stepped in, and the door closed behind her with a soft click.
Eleanor turned.
Her eyes were calm. There was no welcome in her face, but no dismissal either. She looked at Seraphina the way one looks at someone who has finally earned the full weight of honesty.
"You've walked a difficult path, Duchess D'Lorien," the Empress said. Her voice was clear. "A path I wasn't sure you'd survive."
Seraphina nodded. That was all. She didn't thank her. She didn't explain. She had made it here. That was enough.
Eleanor gestured to the table near the window. A carafe of wine and two goblets waited. She poured without speaking and handed Seraphina a glass.
They drank in silence.
No servants. No titles. Just the two of them in a quiet room full of consequences.
"I suspected Alaric for a long time," Eleanor said. "Not of something this methodical. But his ambition was always too close to the surface."
She set her goblet down.
"Men like him think power is something they deserve. They believe crowns give them greatness. But real leadership is earned. It is paid for with restraint and sacrifice. Alaric has only ever sacrificed other people."
Seraphina remained quiet. There was nothing to add. She had no reason to defend him.
"You didn't just bring forward evidence," Eleanor said. "You gave me what I need to stop this before it spreads. Before more people get hurt."
She turned from the table and walked toward the hearth. Her steps were slow and even. Light from the window reflected off her crown and picked out the silver in her hair.
"Justice is not rage. It is not about satisfaction. True justice moves carefully. It waits. It acts with control. If it didn't, none of us would still be standing."
"I understand," Seraphina said.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the goblet. The glass didn't shake, but she felt it.
Eleanor noticed. She said nothing about it. She studied Seraphina's expression instead, quiet and analytical.
"You're not the same woman who stood in this room years ago," she said.
Seraphina met her eyes. "No. I'm not."
The Empress gave a brief nod. It was not warm, but it was real.
She moved to the long table set against the wall and opened a velvet-lined case. Then she turned it so Seraphina could see inside.
A ring sat in the center.
It was simple. Gold and silver woven together with the imperial sigil engraved on the face. It didn't sparkle. It didn't call attention. But it meant everything.
"The Warden-Empress bloodline was not meant to disappear into history," Eleanor said. "It was meant to lead. It was meant to carry what others could not."
She extended the case.
"This is not a demand. It is not a trap. I offer it because it fits who you are now. And because the Empire needs that person."
Seraphina looked down at the ring.
She knew what it meant.
To accept it would mean standing beside Thalion. Not as his lover, not as a hidden supporter, but as Empress. It meant marriage. Not for affection. For duty. For unity. For power secured through presence, not force.
She thought of Caelan. She thought of everything they had built. Of his steady presence and his quiet loyalty. Of the bond between them that had cost both of them so much.
She thought of the divorce still underway. Of the freedom she had fought to reclaim.
The ring waited.
"I'll consider it," she said.
Eleanor nodded. "Good. Take your time. Do not decide in haste. And do not make a choice you'll have to walk back."
She closed the case and set it on the table.
Neither of them moved.
The moment didn't stretch. It just settled. Like a new weight placed gently between them.
Light from the windows shifted slightly. One beam fell across the floor and landed at Seraphina's feet.
"I assume Thalion knows," she said.
"He does," Eleanor replied. "It was his idea."
That caught Seraphina by surprise. She didn't speak, but Eleanor answered anyway.
"He thinks your presence will settle the court. He respects you."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then we adapt. But you've become a symbol. People are watching. If you step away, they will question your reasons more than your answer."
Seraphina nodded once.
"What about Caelan?" she asked.
Eleanor didn't flinch.
"If you accept the ring, the court will expect you to stand beside Thalion. Anything outside of that would draw scrutiny."
Seraphina's expression didn't change. "And privately?"
Eleanor paused for a moment.
"You'd have to be careful. There are no written rules on matters of the heart. But the court doesn't forget what it sees, even when it chooses not to speak of it."
She walked to the window, fingers brushing the edge of the curtain.
"All of these are for you, Thalion, and Caelan to decide. I won't stand in your way. But you will need to understand the cost."
Seraphina gave a quiet breath.
"I'll speak with Thalion," she said.
"You will. He's waiting. This conversation was never meant to end here."
Seraphina walked toward the case. She rested her fingers on the lid. She didn't open it again. She didn't pick it up. But she touched it. Just enough to feel its shape. Its weight.
Then she let go.
They stood there for a while. Not as ruler and subject. Just two women, worn by history.
Light from the tall windows stretched across the floor, slicing the room into light and shadow.
Seraphina stood in the middle, deciding which direction to step next.