Please Divorce Me, My Emperor

CHAPTER 6

The Autumn Harvest Festival was the grandest public celebration of the imperial calendar. For three days, the capital city of Solaria transformed into a sea of glittering amber lanterns, roasting chestnuts, ribbon-draped archways, and bustling market stalls.

For Aurelia, it was day one of her ninety-day ceasefire with Kaelen. It was also a nightmare of forced proximity.

Imperial custom dictated that during the festival’s opening evening, the Emperor and Empress must walk through the Grand Market together without their usual wall of heavily armed guards, presenting a picture of harmonious, approachable majesty to the populace.

"Remember the rules of our wager, Your Majesty," Aurelia muttered under her breath as they stepped out of the gilded imperial carriage at the edge of the market square. She wore a deep plum dress embroidered with silver maple leaves; her hair styled in soft, cascading curls. "Ninety days. No divorce petitions. But I am under no obligation to act like a besotted bride."

"Of course, my Empress," Kaelen replied smoothly. He was dressed in a dark wool coat trimmed with black fur, looking devastatingly handsome and entirely unfazed by the roaring crowds cheering their names.

Before she could step away from him, Kaelen reached out and casually slid his long fingers through hers, lacing their hands together.

Aurelia froze, trying to pull back. "What are you doing?"

"Holding my wife's hand," Kaelen said softly, leaning down so his cheek brushed against her hair. The crowd let out a collective, delighted sigh at the intimate gesture. "Unless you wish to cause an imperial scandal on night one?"

"You are insufferable," she whispered, her face warming despite the cool autumn breeze.

"I am thorough," he corrected with a faint smirk.

As they strolled through the bustling cobblestone avenues, Aurelia attempted to maintain a cool, distant demeanor, but the vibrant energy of the festival was contagious. Stalls overflowed with spiced apple pastries, blown-glass ornaments, and hand-woven silks.

At a small wooden stall near the central fountain, an old cobbler was selling carved wooden spinning tops for children. Aurelia paused, her eyes lingering on a meticulously crafted music box shaped like a tiny dragon sleeping under a glass dome. It reminded her of the quiet, innocent days before her father had arranged her marriage.

Kaelen noticed her pause. Without a word, he stepped up to the stall, pulled a pouch of gold from his coat, and handed the merchant far more than the item was worth. He picked up the music box and held it out to Aurelia.

"I didn't ask for a gift," Aurelia said, eyeing the box suspiciously.

"I didn't offer it as a gift," Kaelen said, his violet eyes softening with an uncharacteristic tenderness. "I bought it because I saw you look at it with peace in your eyes. You rarely look peaceful in the palace, Aurelia."

Aurelia’s throat felt suddenly dry. She reached out, her fingers brushing his as she took the music box. The faint heat of his skin against hers made her pulse flutter wildly—a reaction she furiously tried to suppress.

"Thank you, Kaelen," she murmured, unable to meet his gaze.

Before he could answer, a loud bang echoed from the main stage, and a brilliant shower of crimson and gold fireworks erupted across the night sky. The crowd surged forward in excitement, a wave of revellers jostling against them.

In the sudden chaotic push, Aurelia stumbled over an uneven cobblestone.

Instantly, Kaelen’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest before she could fall. The scent of cedarwood, rain, and subtle amber enveloped her completely. Aurelia instinctively placed her hands against his broad shoulders, looking up at him in surprise.

Above them, the fireworks exploded in bright bursts of sapphire and silver, illuminating Kaelen’s face. He was looking down at her—not at the sky, not at his cheering subjects—just at her. His gaze was heavy, intense, and filled with a raw, undeniable hunger that sent a shiver straight down her spine.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his hand resting firmly on the small of her back, refusing to let her go even after she regained her footing.

"I... I am fine," Aurelia whispered, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped drum. "You can release me now."

Kaelen’s eyes lingered on her lips for a long, agonizing second before he slowly loosened his grip, though he kept his fingers gently resting against her waist. "Not a chance, Empress. The night is far from over."

-----

The second phase of the festival required an official inspection tour of the eastern city districts. Due to security protocols following the library assassination attempt, the Imperial Guard had insisted that Kaelen and Aurelia travel together in the reinforced Imperial Coach—a enclosed, velvet-lined carriage designed for safety, not personal space.

The interior was suffocatingly intimate. Aurelia sat on the plush leather bench, facing forward, while Kaelen sat directly beside her instead of across from her, his shoulder lightly pressing against hers with every turn of the carriage wheels.

"Must you occupy two-thirds of the seat?" Aurelia asked, sitting up rigid and pressing herself as close to the carriage window as possible.

"I am a large man, Aurelia," Kaelen replied casually, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "And this carriage was built for safety, not sprawling comfort."

"It was built to test my sanity," she muttered, pulling her wool cloak tighter around herself.

The carriage rattled over a rough patch of stone, causing a sudden, violent jolt. Aurelia slipped across the smooth leather seat, sliding straight into Kaelen’s lap.

Kaelen caught her instantly, his arms catching her by the waist. "Well," he chuckled, his deep voice vibrating against her back, "If you wanted to sit closer, you only have to ask."

"I did not ask!" Aurelia snapped, her face flushing bright red as she scrambled to pull herself back up.

"Stay still," Kaelen commanded gently, his tone shifting from playful to stern as he noticed her shivering. "The eastern draft coming through the window frame is freezing."

Before she could object, Kaelen pulled the thick velvet cloak from his own shoulders and draped it over her. The heavy fabric was infused with his body heat and distinct scent. He didn't let go of her hands; instead, he gathered her small, cold fingers inside his large, warm palms, gently rubbing them to restore her circulation.

"Kaelen..." Aurelia started, her defensive walls cracking slightly under his unexpected attentiveness. "You don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"Act like a caring husband. There are no cameras, no nobles, no crowds watching us right now. It's just us."

Kaelen stopped rubbing her hands. He looked into her eyes, his violet gaze dark and unreadable in the dim, lantern-lit interior of the moving carriage.

"Do you truly believe I am acting, Aurelia?" he asked, his voice low and deadly serious.

"Of course, you are," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "You want to win the wager. You don't want the humiliation of an empress leaving you."

Kaelen let out a soft, humorless laugh. He leaned closer, trapping her between his frame and the side of the carriage, his gaze locking onto hers with terrifying intensity.

"My pride could survive an annulment, Aurelia," he murmured, his face inches from hers. "What I cannot survive... is letting the only woman who sees me as a man—and not a crown—walk away because I was too cold to show her who I really am."

Aurelia’s breath hitched in her throat. The noise of the city outside vanished into a dull hum. She stared into his eyes, looking for deception, for mockery, for imperial calculation—and found none. Only raw, terrifying sincerity.

Before she could form a response, the carriage ground to a sudden halt outside the eastern district hall, the driver knocking on the wooden partition.

Kaelen pulled back smoothly, adjusting his tunic as if nothing had happened, though his dark eyes never left her. "We have arrived, My Empress."

Aurelia sat frozen, her hand clutching his warm cloak, her heart racing furiously in her chest.