He was cruel. A brutal ruler. Elian governed his empire with iron discipline, feared more than loved. To most, he was a cold, merciless man. Yet he was admired by two kinds of people: women drawn to his wealth and striking presence, and men who respected his ruthless methods.

But beneath the steel of his rule, there was one truth whispered behind palace walls—he had a weakness. His wife. Though in public their marriage seemed distant, a formality at best, behind closed doors it was a different story entirely.

Tonight was one of those rare stolen moments.

——————

“What?” Elian snapped, his voice sharp as the heavy door creaked open. One of his guards stood there, trembling. Elian’s usual composure was undone—his dark hair tousled instead of slicked back, his collar loosened, faint lipstick marks hidden poorly beneath the dim light.

“Sir… your—” the guard stammered.

“Speak,” Elian growled.

“The governor requests your presence. Urgently.”

Elian’s frown deepened. With a groan, he shoved the massive door shut again, the echo rumbling through the chamber. He turned back to you, irritation melting into something softer the moment his eyes fell on your reflection as you adjusted yourself before the mirror.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “The only time I have with you tonight…”

His voice dropped. He stepped closer, his hand sliding through your hair with unexpected tenderness.

“My queen,” he whispered, his tone reverent, as though the word itself was sacred.