Amara's POV
The sun filtered in through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the room—their light dancing lazily across our tangled sheets and bare skin. I lay there, silent, watching his chest rise and fall with steady ease. For a man who carried the weight of an empire, he looked… at peace.
My hand rested gently against his heart, still stunned that I was here—not just as Amara the strategist, or the enforcer, but as his wife. Legally. Publicly. Emotionally. It was no longer a title—it was a truth.
Chris stirred beside me, eyes still closed, but his fingers grazed mine and laced through them. "You're watching me again," he murmured, voice low, rough with sleep.
"I don't think I'll ever stop," I said, brushing a kiss to his shoulder. "It still feels… unreal."
He turned to face me then, his gaze more vulnerable than I'd ever seen. "Nothing about this is unreal, Amara. You're my 02. My wife. My peace."
His peace.
That word meant more to me than any declaration of love. He could have kingdoms. He could command armies. But giving me his peace? That was the most intimate confession he'd ever made.
I rose slowly, wrapping one of his silk robes around me, walking barefoot across the cold marble to the window. From here, I could see the Blackwood Empire stretching wide across the horizon. Banners still flapped with the royal insignia. The streets below buzzed with celebrations, fireworks, and the whispers of a new era under the rule of Chris—and me, by his side.
But peace? That was momentary. Fleeting.
Even now, I could feel it slipping.
A quiet knock came at the chamber door.
Chris sat up slightly, his voice still calm. "Who is it?"
"It's Number 7," came the reply. "Sir, there's… news. Skylar has requested an audience. And there's a disturbance—minor, but it involves Rheina."
Chris sighed, then looked to me. "I told you. Peace never stays long."
I exhaled deeply, crossing back to the bed. He took my hand and pulled me into him, just holding me close.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked, my cheek against his chest.
He hesitated, then whispered, "Handle it… as my wife would."
I smiled slightly, but my eyes sharpened. "Then I'll remind them all what it means to stand next to a Blackwood."
And just like that, peace ended—and power resumed.
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