Please Divorce Me, My Emperor

CHAPTER 11

The aftermath of Duke Valerius’s failed coup sent shock waves through the Sun Palace, but the true threat lay far beyond the capital. Within days of Valerius’s imprisonment, news arrived from the frost-locked province of Winterfell: the disgraced Duke's loyalists, allied with rogue northern warlords, had seized the border fortresses and cut off vital trade routes.

In the War Room, a massive oak table displayed a carved map of the frozen North. Miniature iron markers represented enemy strongholds scattered along the ragged peaks of the Frostfang Ridge.

"They believe the snow will protect them," Kaelen said, his finger tracing the high mountain passes. "They expect us to wait for spring. By then, they will have fortified the passes and invited foreign mercenaries across the border."

"Then we strike now, in the dead of winter," Aurelia stated, stepping up to the map. She moved a blue dragon marker directly onto the Frostfang Pass. "If we march through the Sunken Valley, we bypass their main watchtowers. It’s a dangerous trek, but it cuts three weeks off our march."

General Vance, a grizzled veteran with scars across his brow, frowned. "Your Majesty, the valley is prone to flash blizzards. The supply lines will be razor-thin."

"Which is why I am leading the logistics personally," Aurelia replied calmly, meeting Vance’s gaze. "I’ve spent weeks reorganizing the grain reserves and winter transport carriages. The troops will be fed, clothed, and equipped—provided we move immediately."

Kaelen looked at her, pride and concern wrestling in his dark violet eyes. "Aurelia, the North in winter is brutal. You do not need to subject yourself to the front lines."

"I signed a contract to be your equal, Kaelen," she said quietly, her voice carrying a calm, unwavering conviction. "An Empress who stays safe in her gilded cage while her Emperor bleeds in the snow is no Empress at all. I ride with you."

A heavy silence settled over the War Room. General Vance bowed his head in respect. Kaelen reached across the table, his hand covering hers over the wooden map.

"Then we ride together," Kaelen declared. "Prepare the legions. We march at dawn."

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Ten days later, the warmth of the capital was a distant memory.

A endless ocean of white stretched as far as the eye could see. Howling winds swept across the barren tundras of the Northern Marches, kicking up plumes of blinding snow. The imperial army moved in a massive, disciplined column—thousands of armored infantry, heavy cavalry, and iron-rimmed supply wagons cutting a trail through the deep drifts.

Aurelia rode at the head of the supply train, wrapped in a heavy dark fur coat lined with silver embroidery. Her breath billowed in thick white clouds, but her eyes remained sharp, constantly checking the condition of the draft horses and the secured grain crates.

By dusk, the army made camp in the lee of a jagged slate cliff. Tents were pitched, and fires crackled against the gathering darkness.

Inside the command tent, Kaelen stood over a folding map table, rubbing the back of his neck in fatigue. The strain of commanding five legions through sub-zero temperatures was visible on his sharp features.

The tent flap opened, and Aurelia stepped inside, carrying two wooden mugs of hot spiced wine. She handed one to him, her fingers brushing against his cold leather gloves.

"The third legion has finished pitching camp," she said softly, taking a sip from her mug. "No lost wagons today. The extra grease on the wheel axles prevented them from freezing."

Kaelen took the mug, looking down at her with a soft, tired smile. "You continue to surprise every general in this army, Aurelia. They expected a court diplomat; they got a master strategist."

"I am simply practical," she murmured, stepping closer to the small iron stove warming the center of the tent.

Kaelen followed her, setting his mug down on a crate. He unclasped her heavy fur cloak, letting it drop to the carpeted ground, and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. He rested his chin on her shoulder, drawing a deep breath of her scent—winter air and sweet plum blossom.

"Are you cold?" he whispered into her hair.

"Less so now," Aurelia admitted, leaning back against his chest. The warmth of his body seeped through her clothes, melting the chill in her bones.

"When this campaign is over," Kaelen murmured, his lips gently brushing her neck, "I am taking you somewhere warm. A villa by the Southern Sea. No councilors, no maps, no treason."

Aurelia smiled softly, placing her hands over his. "Is that an imperial decree, Your Majesty?"

"It is a promise," he replied, turning her in his arms to pull her into a slow, deep kiss that set her heart ablaze amidst the freezing wilderness.