Fear rippled through her.

Richard was cold and callous and ruthless, but she never thought he was capable of real harm. So, why was her pulse racing at the menace in his tone?

As he pulled her along with a firm hold, the unbearable instinct to escape him twisted her arm until she was shaking off his touch. When he let go, Jovine cradled her hand, her body swaying from a terrible disquiet that rooted her on the spot.

Swiveling around with a look of frustration, Richard moved to surge into her again when he froze. A look of morbid realization flooded his eyes before he stumbled back away from her.

"Damn it, Jovine. Don't look at me like that," he faltered. "I'd never hurt you."

Through the fog of abating distress, Jovine couldn't help but meet his stung gaze with disbelief. "You'd never hurt me?"

Was he truly heartless enough to ignore their affliction?

Hurt was embedded in their marriage like a poisoned thorn that shredded and maimed. Perhaps he'd never inflict bodily harm, but there were pains that never stemmed from blood but misery instead.

By the way he avoided her eyes, he understood her implication but refused to address it. Instead, he redirected his focus to the covered glass table.

Stalking over with a new uncertainty waning the anger that had permeated him before, he lifted the silver cloche to unveil what looked to be an extensively prepared dinner.

He sighed in exasperation, looking more wary than angered. "I'm asking for a meal. Can you handle that much?"

An immediate frown dented her brows. He was acting with unprecedented notions and that unnerved her the most. "I'm not hungry."

"Sit down, Jovine," Richard muttered. "You look as if you've barely taken care of yourself, much less taken a proper meal. You look terrible."

"You look worse than I do."

His lips twitched. "I can't argue with that. Now, stop arguing with me and sit down. It's the least you could do when you've kept me waiting this long. "

He waited by a chair, gesturing for her to seat herself. When she remained still, staring back at him with distrust, a muscle feathered at his jaw.

"I know you only showed because you need something from me. Would you rather I call for you again tomorrow?"

No, she wouldn't.

Shaking herself out of the dread that had overcome her, Jovine reluctantly seated herself on the cushioned chaise. She wanted nothing more than to leave him to his temper, but there were matters more important than his volatile dramatics. She would get him to agree to her proposition, retreat to her chambers, take a hot bath, and settle in bed for an early night.

She could use a good night's sleep for once.

Richard perched a warm blanket over her bare shoulders before settling across the table. With the growing nip to the evening air, Jovine couldn't refuse the warmth and huddled into the soft fabric. She ignored the pleased hum that sounded across from her.

As he started piling small cream sandwiches and a handful of plump, ruby strawberries onto a large porcelain plate, Jovine began. "Our host for Visea —"

He stopped her with a click of his tongue, placing the crammed plate in front of her. "Eat first. Then, we'll talk."

"I told you, I'm not hungry."

"Eat, Jovine."

"I am not here for a social call."

"Just eat," he sighed. "Please."

She narrowed her eyes. The switch in his demeanor was stark and baffling. A subtle thread of unleashed anger still simmered near the surface, but a new dejection slackened his expression. He almost looked afraid of offending her.

Jovine glanced down at her overflowing plate, noticing that he had stacked several chocolate sweets and sugared delicacies she had enjoyed in the past. In fact, the overwhelming assortment of goods on the table were laid out like a display of sweetened excess. Sweet cream sandwiches, honey-braised meats, strawberry spiced candies.

A wave of nausea overcame her as she witnessed the overabundance. Families in the outer cities were settling for mere scraps and grains, and here they were in a towering castle, stuffing their faces with enough food to feed a small village. On the verge of making herself sick, Jovine blindly picked the blandest offering she could find — a fresh dinner roll glazed in honey butter.

Her husband scoffed. "I've known you for years, Jovine. When have you ever gone for bread before a piece of chocolate to sate your sweet tooth?"

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Jovine bit into the soft bun, swallowing it down as she gazed back indifferently. "I no longer crave them as I used to."

Richard frowned.

"I've eaten. Will you listen now?"

"You act as if it's a crime for a husband to dine with his wife," he said with displeasure. "Especially one that's been ignoring him for days on end."

She could have laughed at him right there. His hypocrisy was blinding.

"Not a crime. More like a pest." She lifted the corner of her lips in a mocking smile. "You know the feeling."

Richard ripped his gaze from her, his fingers clenching at the table.

"I want to oversee the reception for the Visea Royals," she calmly redirected. "I will handle their stay at the Palace and the banquet celebrations."

He breathed a bitter laugh. "And why would I let you do that?"

"Am I not the Empress?"

"What schemes are you up to now, Jovine?"

His suspicions were expected, but she had to consciously lock her body to stop herself from fidgeting under his piercing stare. "Do you question my duties, Your Majesty?"

Rubbing a hand across his jaw, she could see the calculation flickering in his eyes. "Fine."

Her eyes widened. It was too easy.

"On one condition," he added, a thoughtful intensity bruising her from across the table.

She internally cursed. "And what might that condition be, Your Majesty?"

"You."

Jovine stilled.

"I want to see you more," he vacantly said. "Dinners, walks in the Garden, reading in the Library — I don't care what, I just want you to leave a portion of your time for me."

She scowled. "And why would you want that?"

Richard raised a brow. "Is it wrong for me to spend more time with my wife?"

"It's unnecessary," she argued. "And a waste of time."

He leaned forward, reaching for her hand. When she flinched away from his touch, a grim bitterness flashed across his face. "Look at us. I'm trying to mend this drift, Jovine. I gave you space, waited until you came to me. Haven't you had enough? No more of your charades or your lies. No more of this foolish notion of involving someone like Amon to get to me."

"Your ego will never fail to astound me," she murmured. "No matter his significance to me, Amon is good for this Empire. You've been amenable to his work within Court. You've seen his value. Is it only about pride for you?"

He recoiled, sneering at her words. "Is that what you think?" His voice rose until his weakly-restrained anger broke the surface. "You don't think I saw you, heard you, in every single scroll he's been sending my way? Your voice is entangled in every word, every idea. I'm not amenable to him. I'm amenable to you!"

The heaps of marked papers on his desk flashed across her mind.

When she stayed silent, unable to comprehend his clashing actions, he exhaled a shaky laugh. "How long will you keep up this pretense with him, Jovine? I know you better than anyone. Do you think I can't see through you?"

"Your unwavering faith in me is almost flattering," she said in a hollow voice.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't you understand? I trust you, Jovine."

Trust. The word pierced through her.

"If there's one thing you'll always have of me," he continued, meeting her frozen stare with heavy eyes. "It's my trust. So, just stop all this nonsense. I won't believe you."

Her jaw clenched.

What was he playing at?

"You trust me," she repeated. "Why? Because I loved you?"

This time, he flinched.

"Don't trust me," she said, a calm indifference washing over her. "I'm volatile. And you can damn well be sure I have more respect for myself than you think."

"What are you trying to say?" he bit out unsteadily.

"You once told me you didn't choose me. I never chose you either."

"Jovine."

"I was raised to be yours, so how could I have chosen anything but you?" Jovine muttered. "But I'm choosing differently this time. Can you understand what that means?"

An abrupt withdrawal dawned upon her husband. His face was blank, eyes guarded, fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. From the way his chest was rapidly rising and the tick in his jaw, he was doing everything not to lash out and act on something he'd regret in the morning.

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and looked back at her with a chilling civility.

Coolly unfolding a cloth napkin, he started piling his own portion of food onto his plate. By the looks of it, one would assume they had just finished a pleasant conversation about the weather. "I will see you tomorrow evening and then every other day of the week. If you uphold my condition, you may do as you wish with our host for Visea." He glanced up at her with feigned courtesy. "Good night, Jovine."

He was dismissing her.

Without another word, she stood. She could sulk about his condition later, but for now, she would take his dismissal as a relief. She couldn't bear to look at him any longer.

As Empress Jovine left, her face stone cold and empty, Richard dropped the ladle he had been using to scoop a serving of warm lamb stew. When her exit was confirmed by the loud click of his chamber doors, he looked down to find his hands trembling. Lifting his shaking fingers, he clawed at his chest.

What was this feeling?

Why did he feel so hollow?

Just the thought of her with another man turned his vision red, but he meant what he said. He trusted her. No matter how far they drifted, she would never stray from him. She'd never go against her morals of steadfast loyalty to her vows. Her vows to him.

And he had Emilia, someone who served at the whim of his pleasure, who worshipped the ground he walked upon. But, nowadays, he could barely spare his mistress a thought when his mind was preoccupied by his distant wife.

He wasn't the one who cared, so why did it enrage him to hear from Maximus that she was with Amon while he waited for her? Why did it pain him to see a moment of fear in her eyes when he touched her?

Why did it panic him to think she might not be lying?

Staggering away from the table, Richard stumbled to the balcony railing and leaned against it. His fingers never stopped trembling on the cold marble and his breaths came in erratic thrashes.

I don't believe you.

It was all he could think as he hunched over, attempting to swallow some air. As his lungs worked furiously, a familiar flash of gold drew him up out of his hysteria.

There she was. His wife. Kneeling by the bushes to retrieve another man's coat. Jovine stood, brushing off the dirt from the velvet fabric, her hands no longer wearing his ring.

A new bout of rage overcame him, and he opened his mouth to call her name, but no sound emitted from his burning throat. As if she knew he was watching, she paused in her movements, awareness stilling her breaths.

Look up at me.

Look at me.

Look.

She never looked. She only left.

"Your Majesty?" Maximus's startled voice sounded behind him before he felt the man clutching his shoulder to support his unsteady form. "Your Majesty!"

"She's not looking at me anymore," he rasped, leaning so far over the railing he would have fallen like his mother if he wasn't held back by a distressed Maximus. He just wanted one more glimpse of her. To see if she would look at him.

I don't believe you, he thought to himself over and over again.

I

Don't

Believe

You.