The thought screamed through her brain.Oh shit, he could smell her guilt.Lathar had enhanced senses, didn’t they?They could smell things humans couldn't.He could probably smell Raaevik all over her despite the shower, despite the scrubbing, despite?—
"Good morning."His voice was low and mild."I apologize for the early hour.May I come in?"
She couldn't say no.She couldn't shut the door in the Emperor's face and pretend she wasn't home.Her social training kicked in on autopilot, pulling her aside, gesturing him through.
"Of course, your majesty.Please."
He stepped inside.
Her gaze darted around the room and to the door of her bedroom beyond.The bed was made, but the covers were crooked, evidence of her tossing.The air recyclers would have cleared any scent by now.Wouldn't they?
Could he tell?Could he?—
"I wanted to speak with you privately."He moved to the center of the room and turned to face her.His expression was...Gentle and concerned."Away from the court."
She stood frozen, her wet hair dripping on her shoulders and her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her temples.
He knows.He's going to have Raaevik executed, and me locked away somewhere...
“Emily, I’ve noticed you're unhappy," he said.
She blinked.Okay,thathad not been what she was expecting.
"The formal events."He clasped his hands behind his back."The protocols.The constraints of your position here.I know they are difficult to get used to.Especially for someone not raised at court.”
Her eyes widened slightly.He thought she was unhappy because of the court.
The relief hit her so hard her knees nearly buckled.Grabbing the back of the nearest chair to steady herself, she disguised the motion as a casual lean.
"I've been thinking about what you told me," he continued, looking past her to study the large painting on the wall opposite.It was one with latharian warriors fighting something that looked like an octopus out of a nightmare."About your work on Earth.The shelter.The people you helped."He paused, his green eyes studying her face."You miss it."
It wasn't a question.She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He nodded, a small rumble in the back of his throat as though he’d gotten the answer to a question.
"There are humans on this station… some who've struggled to adapt to life among us."He moved closer, and she forced herself not to step back, tilting her head up to look at him.He smiled."I'd like to give you a project.Something meaningful.Work with them—counseling, advocacy, whatever you think they need."
She blinked in surprise, not sure what to say.
"I know this wasn't your choice."His voice softened into a low rumble."I cannot give you freedom from this match.But I can give you freedomwithinit."
His eyes met hers, and there was no demand in them.
"I don't expect you to love me, Emily."A shadow crossed his face, there and gone before she was even sure she’d seen it."I'm not certain I'm capable of offering that myself.But I would like you to have a life here," he finished."Not just an existence."
Tears burned at the backs of her eyes as she blinked them away.
"Why?"Her voice cracked."Why are you being so..."
"So what?"
"Good to me."
He was quiet for a long moment.The station hummed around them, that constant background vibration of machinery and life support that she'd almost stopped noticing.
"Because I know what it is to be caged by duty," he said."To want something you cannot have."
His gaze drifted to the viewport, to some point beyond the glass she couldn't see.The silence stretched.
