Chapter 55 – The Emperor's Verdict
The massive oak doors of the Emperor's council chamber swung shut with a resounding thud, sealing off the grand hall from the outside world. The torches along the stone walls flickered, casting long, wavering shadows over the assembled council. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, aged parchment, and the quiet tension of powerful men forced into silence.
Noble lords, military commanders, high-ranking clerics, and seasoned advisors sat in stiff-backed chairs, their expressions reflecting varying degrees of unease, calculation, and barely restrained curiosity. They had gathered for one reason alone—to discuss her.
At the head of the long oak table, Charles V sat in his throne-like chair, fingers steepled, gaze unreadable. He was not speaking.
And everyone was waiting for him to decide.
The Silence Before the Storm
His fingers tapped against the polished wood. Slow. Measured. A rhythm of deep thought.
The room remained quiet, but it was not the stillness of peace. It was the quiet of men waiting for their ruler to dictate the fate of something beyond their understanding.
Finally, Charles spoke.
"You have all heard the Empress's story."
His voice was calm. Controlled. Dangerous.
"You have all witnessed what she is."
A pause. His dark gaze swept across the table.
"What do you make of her?"
The Nobles' Concerns
A nobleman, an older lord with deep wrinkles carved into his face from decades of intrigue, cleared his throat.
"Your Majesty, the Empress is… an enigma."
"She commands the battlefield like a warlord, but she resists the court."
"She is unlike any woman we have ever seen."
Another noble, younger but just as wary, nodded.
"She is dangerous."
A third spoke, more hesitant.
"She is powerful."
Silence followed.
Then the first true question was asked.
"Is she an asset to the Empire? Or a threat?"
The Military's Perspective
One of the seasoned generals leaned forward, his armor shifting with the movement.
"Your Majesty, from a military standpoint—she is a marvel."
"No man can match her strength."
"No knight can rival her speed."
"No commander has her instincts on the battlefield."
He hesitated.
"But… she is also unpredictable."
"She fights like a soldier, not a queen."
"Can such a woman truly be controlled?"
The question hung in the air.
Charles did not answer.
Not yet.
The Church's Judgment
A high-ranking priest finally spoke. His voice was low, careful.
"She is not like us, Your Majesty."
"She speaks little of faith."
"She was created by men, not by God."
The room stirred slightly at the bold words.
Charles' gaze remained neutral.
"And yet," the priest continued, "she does not reject the Church."
A pause.
"Perhaps she can be guided."
Charles' fingers drummed against the table once more.
A slow, steady beat.
"Guided?"
His voice was flat. Unreadable.
"Do you believe she can be… reformed?"
The priest hesitated.
"She was raised for war, Your Majesty. Not for faith."
"But if she is to rule beside you, she must become more than just a weapon."
"She must become a queen in truth."
The Ladies-in-Waiting React
At the back of the chamber, her ladies-in-waiting stood quietly, listening.
They were not meant to speak in such meetings.
But they had seen more of the Empress than any of these men.
And they knew what the Emperor was truly asking.
Was she an ally?
Or was she a possession that refused to be tamed?
One of the younger ladies, the same one who had spoken in the gardens days ago, glanced at the others before finally whispering.
"They do not understand her."
The eldest lady sighed softly, keeping her gaze downcast.
"No. But he does."
And that was the true danger.
Because if Charles understood her, then he would know exactly how to keep her.
The Emperor's Verdict
After a long silence, Charles finally leaned back in his chair. His dark eyes were half-lidded, thoughtful.
And then—he smirked.
"She is not a threat."
The room stirred slightly.
He continued.
"She is not a liability."
"She is a force that no man can rival."
"And she is mine."
A pause. A dangerous pause.
"You ask if she can be controlled?"
His smirk deepened.
"You are asking the wrong question."
A hush fell over the chamber.
The nobles and generals stiffened.
The priest lowered his gaze.
The ladies-in-waiting held their breath.
And Charles finally gave his final decree.
"She does not need to be controlled."
His voice was calm, absolute.
"She only needs to learn."
"To learn that she belongs to me."
The words sealed her fate.
And everyone in the room knew it.
The War Between Them Continues
The meeting ended soon after, the court leaving in silent agreement.
The ladies-in-waiting followed, their expressions uneasy.
And as Charles watched them go, his thoughts turned to his wife.
The woman who refused to break.
The warrior who still thought she was free.
He would teach her otherwise.
Not with force.
Not with war.
But with patience.
Because in the end—she would see.
She would see that there was no escape from him.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter 56
The great hall of the Alcázar was filled with nobles, military commanders, and clergy, all gathered under the high vaulted ceilings of Spain's most powerful court. Golden chandeliers flickered overhead, their flames casting an uneven glow over the assembled elite.
The air was thick with tension.
Because today was not just a courtly gathering.
Today, the Emperor had summoned them for a declaration.
A declaration that would change the very nature of his rule.
And she was at the center of it.
Cal stood at the base of the dais, her towering armored form an anomaly in the sea of silks and lace. Her ladies-in-waiting stood behind her, their expressions varying from nervous to outright fearful.
This moment was not just political.
It was war.
And Charles sat upon his throne—watching, waiting.
The Emperor's Decree
The court fell silent as Charles rose to his feet. His dark gaze swept across the assembled nobles, taking in their unease, their uncertainty.
And then—he spoke.
"I have ruled over kingdoms."
His voice was measured, powerful.
"I have conquered lands."
"I have crushed rebellions and made emperors bow before me."
A pause.
A deliberate pause.
"But there is one who has earned more than just my favor."
A murmur spread through the court.
The nobles stiffened.
The clergy shifted.
The military men remained still—watching. Waiting.
"Today, I name my Empress not only my wife but my equal in title."
Silence.
Utter, shocked silence.
And then—the uproar began.
The Court's Reaction
The murmurs became whispers.
The whispers became voices.
The voices became outright protests.
"She is a warrior, not a noble!"
"She is not of noble blood—this is unheard of!"
"Your Majesty, the court will never accept—"
"This is madness!"
The nobles clamored, shifting anxiously. Some looked furious. Others looked horrified. And some—some watched in silence, waiting to see how this would unfold.
The clergy, in particular, whispered amongst themselves. One priest stepped forward, his expression grim.
"Your Majesty," he began, voice careful, measured. "This has never been done before."
"A woman—especially a foreigner, a soldier—has never been granted noble status in such a way."
His gaze flickered toward Cal, full of suspicion.
"You risk the wrath of the Church. The wrath of Spain itself."
The court held its breath.
Waiting.
Watching.
And Charles?
He only smirked.
The Emperor's Command
"Wrath?"
His voice was low, amused.
Dangerous.
"The Church fears change. The nobles fear disruption."
His fingers drummed against the golden armrest of his throne.
"They forget one thing."
He stepped forward—off the dais, down the steps, toward her.
The court tensed.
"I do not fear them."
Silence.
Dead silence.
"I do not rule because I follow tradition."
"I rule because I bend tradition to my will."
His gaze landed on Cal.
"And she is my will made flesh."
The weight of his words settled over the room.
A command.
A declaration.
A law.
And it could not be undone.
Cal's Response
The weight of his words settled on her shoulders like armor. The nobles looked at her now—truly looked at her.
Some with resentment.
Some with fear.
And some—with something else.
Respect.
A begrudging, uneasy respect.
She lifted her chin, golden eyes gleaming beneath the flickering light.
"If I am to be your Empress in name, then I will rule as one."
A sharp murmur ran through the court.
She took a slow step forward, her armored boots echoing across the marble floor.
"I am no courtly woman, Charles."
"I was raised for war. Trained to kill. Built to survive."
A pause.
A challenge.
"If that is to be the foundation of my rule—then so be it."
She turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over the court.
"Let those who doubt me come forth."
Her voice was steel, edged with fire.
"If you would challenge me, do so now."
Silence.
Not a single noble dared step forward.
Not a single voice spoke out.
And Charles?
His smirk grew wider.
Because in that moment—she had won.
And she knew it.
The Ladies-in-Waiting React
Behind her, her ladies-in-waiting were frozen.
Some looked shocked.
Some looked frightened.
But the youngest one—the same girl who had spoken before—whispered something under her breath.
A single word.
"Incredible."
The eldest lady beside her sighed.
"She is not a queen."
"No," the younger woman murmured.
"She is something far greater."
The Emperor's Final Decree
Charles exhaled slowly, triumph in his gaze.
"It is decided."
His voice rang through the chamber, final and absolute.
"She is Empress not only by marriage—but by right."
"She will have land. Power. A seat at my side."
"Let no man, no noble, no priest question this decree."
"Because those who do—"
His gaze flickered across the nobles, dark and warning.
"Will find themselves at the mercy of my warlord queen."
The court stood in rigid silence.
Because they knew.
There was no changing this.
She was not a mere Empress.
She was his weapon, his equal, his warlord.
And there was nothing they could do about it.
Chapter 57
The air was thick with tension.
The court had not yet adjusted to the idea of her.
Even though Charles had declared it, even though it was now law, they still did not know what to do with her.
An Empress in title was one thing.
But an Empress who did not bend to their rules?
That was something else entirely.
And today—she was forcing them to acknowledge it.
The Court Watches
Cal entered the grand hall, her golden eyes unreadable beneath the flickering chandeliers.
Her ladies-in-waiting followed closely behind, their silks whispering as they moved.
But even they, who had been slowly growing accustomed to her presence, were uneasy today.
Because today was different.
Today, she was not standing beside Charles.
Today, she was standing alone.
And the court was watching.
Assessing.
Judging.
The nobles and clergy sat stiff-backed in their gilded seats, their eyes flickering toward her like she was a wild beast let loose in a room full of sheep.
And in a way, she was.
A wolf among lambs.
A warlord among those who had never seen true war.
The First Challenge
One of the nobles, a man of high birth and even higher arrogance, stepped forward.
He bowed—shallowly.
Not an insult.
But not the respect due to an Empress.
"Your Majesty."
His voice was smooth, practiced.
She could already tell he was a politician through and through.
"It is rare to see a woman of your... station standing before the court alone."
A murmur rippled through the room.
A subtle challenge.
A quiet jab at her lack of noble background.
Cal did not blink.
She simply tilted her head slightly.
"Rare, perhaps."
Her voice was calm. Measured. Dangerous.
"But not impossible."
The noble's eyes flickered slightly.
As if he had not expected her to answer so easily.
"Tell me, Your Majesty, do you intend to take part in the daily affairs of court?"
Another murmur.
The real question was beneath his words.
'Do you intend to intrude upon what is not yours?'
Cal smirked slightly.
"I have no patience for gossip and scheming, if that is what you ask."
A pause.
A sharper smirk.
"But if it involves Spain's future, I will be here."
A beat of silence.
A shift in the air.
The nobles exchanged glances, realizing that she was not going to simply sit beside Charles and smile.
The Church's Judgment
A bishop seated near the dais finally spoke, his voice heavy with disapproval.
"It is unusual for an Empress to concern herself with matters of war and state."
Cal's gaze shifted to him.
She did not like priests.
Not because she disrespected faith.
But because she had seen men use it as a weapon too many times.
"Then I suppose I am unusual."
The bishop frowned.
"You do not speak often of God."
Another challenge.
Another way to test her.
The room grew quiet, waiting.
Her ladies-in-waiting shifted slightly behind her, as if they too were unsure how she would answer.
And then—she did.
"I have been at war since I was a child."
Her voice was measured. Cool.
"I have seen men die in a thousand different ways. I have seen cities burned, families slaughtered, soldiers sacrifice themselves for a cause greater than their own survival."
"I have seen gods worshiped in many ways."
"But I have never seen one take the battlefield for man."
A hush fell over the court.
The bishop stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"That is not a woman's place to say."
Cal exhaled slowly, unimpressed.
"And yet, I have said it."
The court was stunned.
Because she was not disrespectful.
She was not dismissive.
She was simply… unapologetic.
And that was worse.
The Ladies-in-Waiting React
Behind her, her ladies-in-waiting held their breath.
"She does not speak like a queen," one of them whispered.
"She does not think like a queen," another added.
The youngest, however, was watching with something else in her gaze.
"She does not need to."
The eldest lady-in-waiting sighed, shaking her head.
"No. She does not."
"She is something else entirely."
The Emperor's Watchful Gaze
She could feel him.
Even though he was not present, she knew.
Somewhere, he was listening. Watching. Waiting.
He had put her here to see what would happen.
To see if she would sink or swim.
And she had done more than swim.
She had dominated.
The court was learning that she was not just a soldier in armor.
She was not just his wife.
She was something far more dangerous.
An Empress who did not bow.
An Empress who would never be controlled.
The War Between Them Continues
The court was still uncertain.
They were still adjusting.
Some would never accept her.
Some would learn to respect her.
And some… would fear her.
She could live with that.
Because no matter how much they whispered—
No matter how much they plotted—
She would always be watching them in return.
And she was not afraid.
Chapter 58
The heavy oak doors of the Emperor's private chambers swung shut with a dull thud, sealing the room from the outside world.
The air was thick with tension.
A single fire crackled in the grand hearth, casting flickering golden light across the massive chamber. The stone walls, adorned with banners of the Habsburg dynasty, loomed high above, making the space feel both vast and suffocating.
And at the center of it all—Charles stood before her.
His dark eyes locked onto her, unreadable yet heavy with something undeniable.
Possession.
Control.
An intent she had been dreading since the day he first placed a ring on her finger.
Behind her, her ladies-in-waiting hovered in stunned silence.
They had followed her inside out of duty—but now, even they knew this was a mistake.
Because Charles was not merely declaring his will.
He was enforcing it.
The Emperor's Command
"You are my wife."
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"And it is time you accept what that means."
Cal stiffened.
She had been waiting for this moment.
Dreading it.
And now—it was here.
She exhaled slowly, keeping her stance rigid.
"Charles."
His name left her lips like a warning.
"You will sleep beside me."
A decree.
Not a request.
Not a suggestion.
A command.
The War Begins
She turned fully toward him now, her golden eyes sharp, cold.
"No."
The ladies-in-waiting visibly tensed.
The air crackled with the weight of her defiance.
But Charles?
He did not react with rage.
Not yet.
Instead—he smirked.
"You misunderstand, my love."
His voice was low, dangerous.
"This is not up for debate."
"You are my Empress."
"You are my wife."
"You will share my bed."
The finality in his words sent a ripple of unease through the room.
The ladies-in-waiting exchanged nervous glances, their hands clasping tightly in front of them.
One of them, the youngest, whispered softly under her breath.
"Dios mío…"
But Cal did not waver.
The Empress' Defiance
She crossed her arms over her armored chest, her stance unmoving.
"Charles."
"I sleep alone."
A pause.
Her voice dropped lower, edged with warning.
"That is not going to change."
For a long moment—he said nothing.
His smirk remained, but his eyes darkened.
And then, he took a step closer.
"You still do not understand, do you?"
His fingers traced the edge of her gauntlet, his touch featherlight—but undeniably claiming.
"I have allowed your defiance in many things."
"But this?"
His grip tightened—just slightly.
"This, I will not allow."
A silent challenge passed between them.
And the ladies-in-waiting held their breath.
Because they knew.
He would not yield.
The Emperor Doubles Down
"You will sleep beside me."
His words were like steel, cutting through the thick silence.
"Tonight. Tomorrow. Every night after."
Cal's fingers twitched at her sides.
He was pushing.
Testing her.
"No."
The refusal was firm. Absolute.
But so was he.
"Yes."
The ladies-in-waiting exchanged frantic looks.
One of them, the eldest, hesitated before stepping forward.
"Your Majesty," she spoke softly, carefully, as if treading on thin ice.
"Perhaps… the Empress should be given time to adjust—"
Charles' gaze snapped to her instantly.
She froze.
The weight of his authority crushed the air around them.
"Did I ask for your opinion?"
The woman dropped her gaze immediately, stepping back without another word.
And Cal clenched her jaw.
Because this was exactly what he wanted.
To show her—and everyone in this room—who held true power.
The Last Stand
She exhaled sharply, golden eyes burning.
"You think this will break me?"
Her voice was low, steady.
"You think forcing me to share your bed will make me obey?"
A slow smirk curled on his lips.
"No."
"But it will remind you of who you belong to."
Silence.
Unbreakable silence.
And then—he turned.
He stepped toward the massive bed draped in crimson silk and gold embroidery.
And without hesitation, he sat at the edge, unbuckling his belt, removing his outer jacket.
He looked up at her once more, his gaze steady, unyielding.
"Come here, Cal."
The words were soft. Dangerous.
A command wrapped in velvet.
A demand she could not ignore.
She stood rigid, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
For a brief second—no one moved.
And then—she did.
The War Between Them Continues
She took a step forward.
Then another.
Each movement slow, deliberate.
Her ladies-in-waiting watched in stunned silence, barely breathing.
And when she finally stood before him—just within reach—he smirked.
"Good girl."
She did not react.
Did not flinch.
She simply met his gaze—cold and unyielding.
"If you try to touch me in ways I do not allow, Charles, I will make sure you regret it."
His smirk deepened.
"And if you try to leave?"
She exhaled, her jaw tightening.
"Then you will see what happens when you cage a warrior."
A challenge.
A threat.
A battle that had yet to be fought.
And yet—he only smiled.
Because he knew.
She was already in his bedroom.
Already at his mercy.
And no matter how much she fought—
She was already his.
Chapter 59: The Emperor's Warlord
The grand chambers of the Alcázar of Madrid were dimly lit by flickering candlelight. The wedding had been a spectacle, the event of the year, yet it had meant nothing to her.
Cal stood near the massive wooden doors, arms crossed over the chest plate of her armor. She was calm, yet the tension in the room was heavy. Charles, now her husband, stood across from her, studying her in silence.
She had said nothing for the first few minutes of their solitude.
But now, she had decided to speak.
Cal's First Warning
"Let's be honest about why I let this happen, Charles."
Her voice was measured, cold, unyielding.
"I could have killed you. I could have killed everyone in that grand hall, in this castle, and in half of Madrid before anyone stopped me. The only reason I didn't is because you are too important to kill."
"You are the keystone of this empire. If you die, the entire Spanish throne collapses into civil war. And I don't want that. I want peace."
She stepped forward, the weight of her armor making the wooden floor creak slightly beneath her.
"But make no mistake—I do not belong to you."
Her golden eyes burned with quiet fire.
"I allowed this marriage because I do not want unnecessary bloodshed. But if you ever think I am your prisoner, you are mistaken. If you send men after me, I will kill a hundred before they even realize they are being hunted."
"I will kill them in their camps, I will kill them while they sleep, I will kill them while they take a piss in the woods."
She watched his face carefully. There was no arrogance in her tone, only cold, calculated certainty.
The Reality of What She Is
"You think this armor is a barrier between us? You are wrong. It is a reminder that you cannot control me."
"I cannot remove it. It is bonded to me. There is no key, no magic trick, no prayer that will take it off."
"It weighs half a ton. Good luck finding a bed that can handle it."
"And if you ever think you can force me into submission, let me make one thing clear: you will need more than an army. And even then, it will not be enough."
She activated her energy shields.
A brief, luminous glow of translucent blue spread over her armor, humming with an eerie energy far beyond anything Charles had ever seen before. It shimmered and disappeared, but the message was clear: she was untouchable.
"A direct cannonball strike would not harm me. Twenty cannonballs wouldn't harm me. I can walk through a battlefield, and no one could stop me."
"I am a soldier, Charles. A true soldier. I have been a soldier since I was six years old. I was bred for war, trained for war, and I have never been anything else."
She took another step toward him, voice unwavering.
"You wanted to make me your wife. Then let me be what I was meant to be."
"Put me in charge of your armies."
"I cannot give you children. I will never be a queen in the way you expect. But I can do what no man alive can do—I can win your wars for you."
The Battle That Killed Her
She paused for the first time, her tone shifting slightly, the steel-hard edge softening just enough to reveal something deeper.
"Two months. That is how long it will take for me to fully recover from my wounds."
She exhaled, briefly glancing at the heavy wooden table near them.
"I was killed, Charles. Or at least, I should have been."
"My mission was to assassinate a Prophet—a leader of the Covenant, an alien empire that would have wiped humanity from existence."
"My team and I fought through legions of them, through warriors stronger and deadlier than anything you can imagine. But in the end, it was a Brute Chieftain who landed the killing blow."
She tapped her fingers against her chest plate—the place where the Brute's hammer had crushed her ribs and nearly shattered her body.
"I remember the hit. The feeling of bones breaking. The sharp, unbearable pain."
"And then I woke up here."
She looked at him now, fully meeting his gaze, golden eyes unreadable.
"I should be dead. But I am not. So now I must decide what to do with this second life."
Charles' Reaction
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Charles V, ruler of one of the largest empires in the world, a man who had stared down popes, kings, and armies, was at a loss for words.
His hands clenched at his sides—not in fear, but in the slow, dawning realization that this woman standing before him was something beyond his comprehension.
She was not merely strong. Not merely dangerous. She was something else entirely.
And she was his.
Or so he had thought.
Charles' Next Moves
He Would Not Fight Her Directly
This was not a woman he could subdue. This was not a woman he could even control through fear or force.
She had given him a warning, and he was wise enough to heed it.
He Would Not Let Her Go
If she was truly unkillable, truly invincible—then she was the greatest asset Spain had ever gained.
She was more valuable than a queen, more valuable than any noble bloodline.
He Would Give Her Authority Over His Armies—But With Conditions
If she wanted to be a general, then she would be one.
But it would be under his terms. Under his rule.
He Would Find a Way to Bind Her to Him, One Way or Another
Marriage alone was not enough. She would not submit to him like other women.
He needed to give her purpose—make her see that staying with him was not a cage, but a necessity.
He Would Learn Everything He Could About Her
She had revealed much—but not everything.
There were still things she had not said, knowledge that could change everything.
If he could not control her through force, he would control her through understanding.
Charles' Final Words
After a long silence, his voice came, measured but certain.
"You do not speak like a wife."
"You do not even speak like a woman. You speak like a king."
He took a slow step forward, gaze sharp.
"Very well, my wife. If you wish to lead, you shall lead."
"If you wish to fight, you shall fight."
"If you wish to rule war itself, I will make it so."
He exhaled, running a hand through his dark beard, a rare moment of contemplation.
"But do not mistake this for freedom, my ghostly warrior."
"You will be my general. You will be my warlord. You will be my sword."
"And you will never leave my side."
Chapter 60: The Warlord's Morning
The sky was still dark when Cal rose from the grand imperial bed, her golden eyes flickering toward the tall windows where the first hints of dawn barely touched the horizon. She had slept lightly, as always, four hours more than enough to refresh her. Sleeping next to Charles had not changed that.
She moved with quiet precision, slipping on her helmet and exiting the royal chambers without hesitation. Her note—simple, direct—was left on the polished bedside table.
Charles Awakens
An hour later, Charles woke to an empty bed. The warmth where she had been was already gone, leaving only the faint scent of steel and the weight of her absence.
His gaze immediately flickered to the small parchment on the table. He read it slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed the words.
I'm out training. I only need about four hours of sleep. I will be back in a few hours. Don't look for me.
His grip on the paper tightened. Don't look for me? As if he would allow that.
His Empress had slipped away from his bed, from the palace, to go train—alone.
Charles sat up, exhaling sharply. She belongs to me. Does she truly think she can just disappear like this?
His gaze darkened. He would not let this pass without response.
The Ladies-in-Waiting Find the Note
The soft shuffle of silks and slippers signaled the arrival of Cal's ladies-in-waiting, ready to begin their morning routine with their Empress.
But when they entered her chambers, they found only the Emperor—fully awake, fully aware, and visibly irritated.
The lead lady hesitated. "Your Majesty?"
Charles handed them the note without a word.
The ladies read it in silence. Their reactions varied from stunned disbelief to quiet horror.
"She… left?" one whispered, barely able to comprehend it.
"At this hour? Alone?"
"Where could she have gone?"
Charles' expression did not shift as he answered, his voice low, commanding. "Training."
The youngest lady gasped softly, clutching her hands together. "Training? As in… battle training?"
The eldest lady inhaled deeply, glancing at Charles carefully. "She is unlike any Empress in history."
Charles' smirk was cold. "You are only now realizing this?"
The Warlord at Work
Across the city, in an abandoned structure near the palace grounds, Cal moved through the shadows.
The air smelled of dust and stone, the faint echoes of her boots the only sound as she navigated the old, forgotten building. It was the perfect training ground—tight hallways, sharp corners, low visibility.
Shotgun in hand, she moved through the structure in a seamless rhythm.
Breach, clear, move.
She swept through the mock battlefield with precision, firing at makeshift targets, moving from room to room in flawless execution. The sound of her gunshots echoed through the empty halls, a brutal symphony of destruction.
Once her rounds were spent, she transitioned seamlessly into melee combat. Drawing her combat knife and sidearm, she shifted tactics, using the dim light and the torch on her helmet to execute perfect strikes against her dummies.
A few hours passed, her focus unbroken—until she sensed movement at the entrance.
She turned, scanning the shadows—and there they were.
Her ladies-in-waiting.
They stood frozen at the entrance, wide-eyed and silent, watching as she casually withdrew her knife from a dummy's 'throat.'
She smirked.
Then, in a single motion, she vaulted onto a four-foot-high ledge, jumped down, and executed a perfect takedown on another dummy, her blade cutting through the air before landing in the target's neck.
Silence.
The ladies-in-waiting paled, staring at her with expressions ranging from awe to outright terror.
One of them whispered. "Madre de Dios…"
The youngest among them clutched her hands together. "She fights like a demon."
The eldest lady swallowed hard. "No. She fights like a warrior."
Cal finally turned toward them fully, removing her helmet and shaking out her hair, her golden eyes amused. "Enjoying the show?"
The Emperor Finds Her
Before they could respond, another presence filled the room.
Charles.
He had found her.
His gaze swept over the shattered dummies, the training ground she had built for herself, and finally—her, standing before him, knife still in hand, sweat glistening against her skin, smirking at him.
She was magnificent.
She was infuriating.
She was his.
He took slow, deliberate steps toward her, his voice controlled but unmistakably possessive. "You left."
Cal tilted her head slightly. "I left a note."
His eyes darkened. "You told me not to look for you."
She shrugged. "And yet, here you are."
His jaw tightened. "You are my wife. My Empress."
She sighed. "I know."
His eyes narrowed. "Then why do I need to keep reminding you?"
She exhaled, stepping back slightly. "Because I need space, Charles. This—" She gestured vaguely. "This is how I function."
He took another step closer, closing the space between them. "And this—" He gestured between them. "Is how I remind you who you belong to."
She met his gaze, unflinching. "I belong to no one."
His smirk returned, slow and knowing. "Is that so?"
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, he reached for her armored hand, gripping it firmly. "Court will begin soon."
She sighed again, rolling her eyes. "Of course it does."
Charles' grip tightened slightly, his voice dropping to a near-growl. "You will be by my side."
She hesitated for just a fraction of a second—then nodded. "Fine."
His smirk deepened, pleased. "Good."
As he turned to leave, his hand still holding hers, she murmured, "You're not letting go, are you?"
His grip remained firm. "No."
Her ladies-in-waiting watched the exchange in stunned silence, exchanging quiet whispers as Charles led her from the abandoned building.
The youngest lady whispered. "He does not want to let her out of his sight."
The eldest nodded. "He never will."
And Cal? She let herself be led—because for now, she had won her battle.
But the war between them would never end.