The Emperor Exchanged Me for a Mistress, But I Found Another

chatper 14

The tea in Diana’s cup had grown cold, but she didn't seem to notice. The warm, savory scent of the soup Yuna had placed before her provided a domestic comfort that felt entirely at odds with the treasonous conversation hanging in the air. Diana set her spoon down, the silver clinking softly against the porcelain. She looked at Alistair’s reflection in her vanity mirror—a man who had just risked his life and his throne to kiss her in the dark. For years, she had played the role of the perfect, suffering wife, waiting for Caspian to find his senses. But as she thought of the "Eye of the North" sparkling on a dancer’s hand, she realized she was finished waiting.

"Alistair," she said, her voice a low, resolute melody that cut through his playful humor. "I do not want to survive this marriage any longer. I want it to end. My husband is currently drowning in a lie, worshipping a girl who treats his crown like a trinket. I want to know how to hasten the inevitable. How do I make Caspian divorce me sooner?"

Alistair’s expression shifted instantly. The flirty, charming light in his blue eyes vanished, replaced by the sharp, calculating gaze of a man who had won a dozen political wars. He moved away from the bedpost and knelt beside her vanity, placing his warm hands over her cold ones. The weight of his presence was grounding, a stark contrast to Caspian’s erratic, harsh energy.

"To make a man like Caspian let go, you must strike at his pride and his sense of heroism," Alistair said, his voice dropping to a serious, conspiratorial whisper. "Currently, he sees himself as Daphne’s savior. He believes you are the villainous, cold wife who is 'bullying' his poor, innocent flower. If you continue to stay quiet and dignified, he will drag this out, enjoying the drama of 'protecting' her from you. He wants to feel like the hero of a tragic romance."

Diana narrowed her amethyst eyes, absorbing his words. "So, I should give him the conflict he craves?"

"No," Alistair replied, a dark, knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You should give him a reason to feel that you are beneath him. Caspian is arrogant. He wants to be the one who discards, not the one who is left. If you begin to show a blatant disregard for the palace, for his gifts, and for the Northern customs he holds dear, he will see it as an insult to his authority. But the quickest way? You must make him believe that your 'coldness' has turned into a lack of loyalty. A man with his temper cannot handle a wife who no longer fears his anger."

Diana looked down at their joined hands. "He already argues with me every day because Daphne tells him I am rude to her. She is a cunning child; she twists my silence into insults."

"Then let her," Alistair murmured, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "Let her amplify her lies. In fact, give her more ammunition. If she reports that you are looking for a way out, or that you are speaking with me... well, his rage will do the work for us. But be careful, Diana. A cornered dog bites hard. I will have my fastest carriages waiting at the border, and my ships are already docked at the harbor. The moment that divorce decree is signed, I want you across the Western line before he can even blink."

Diana leaned her forehead against Alistair’s, the scent of the Western sea and expensive spice clinging to him. "It feels like a betrayal of the girl I used to be," she whispered. "The one who thought she could make this work."

"That girl was a prisoner of a contract made by old men," Alistair said firmly, his eyes locking onto hers with a burning intensity. "The woman standing before me is a Queen who deserves to be adored. Let Caspian have his dancer and his crumbling palace. You come with me, and I will show you what it feels like to be a wife who is cherished, not just a title that is tolerated. If he wants a divorce, give him every reason to think you are the one who has already left him in your heart."

Diana nodded, a cold, sharp resolve settling into her amethyst eyes. She would play the part Caspian expected. She would be the 'cruel' Empress Daphne claimed she was, and she would push him until he broke the bond himself. As Alistair kissed her hand one last time before retreating toward the shadows of the balcony, Diana felt the first true breath of freedom she had known in ten years. The divorce wasn't an end; it was the opening of a door.