(Almera POV)
We had returned to Atenisia as victors of a silent war.
The Oasis had bowed. The Church had retreated without open battle. The people cheered the Emperor's wisdom and the Sun Throne's steady hand.
But peace, I had learned, was never an ending.
It was merely a pause between movements.
Word spread across the capital by noon.
The Imperial Consort would return to Constantine.
Not as a hostage.
Not as a discarded daughter.
But as the wife of Romulus Alessander.
I stood upon my balcony as the murmurs rippled through the city below. The marketplace was unusually animated. Merchants pointed upward when they saw palace banners being rearranged. Golden Army formations were adjusted along the outer gates.
Preparations.
Public ones.
Romulus did not move quietly unless he intended to.
This journey would be seen.
That was deliberate.
I rested my hands upon the railing and allowed myself a slow breath.
Constantine.
I had not spoken its name aloud in months.
