Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points! - Chapter 193

Chapter 193: To Rule Two Hearts
The castle halls—tall, echoing things of stone and storied shadow—seldom bore witness to laughter after nightfall.

But tonight, ah yes, tonight, the soft lilt of Kaela’s giggles danced alongside the low rumble of Arkanos’s chuckle, weaving like a bard’s tune through the corridors. It was a rare and dangerous thing: joy in the heart of a man who wore conquest like a second skin. One might say love was a battlefield more treacherous than war… but I digress.

As they reached the massive double doors to Arkanos’s private chambers, he slowly pushed the doors open.

With a creak that echoed like judgment in a cathedral, the doors parted.

Arkanos’s eyes widened for a moment as he caught the sight of a certain someone.

Sephira.

Sitting upon his bed—his bed, mind you, not a chair, not the hearth, but the bed itself—draped in a simple white chemise, the kind of gown that clung modestly to her curves.

No jewels adorned her, no silks or crimson robes tonight. Just cotton and quiet confidence, the kind that a woman wears when she is quite certain she belongs where she sits.

Her expression? Less queenly, more… irritated. Not furious, no. That would’ve been too loud for Sephira. No, hers was the kind of displeasure that simmered, wrapped in poise and framed by a single raised brow.

“Well,” she said, folding her hands below that chest of hers, like a disappointed abbess. “I came expecting to speak with my husband. Imagine my surprise when I found the bed cold and the halls echoing with laughter not my own.”

Ah, the woman knew how to deliver a blow without ever lifting a blade. A talent most nobles would kill for—and many did.

Arkanos, of course, did not miss a step.

“Dearest Sephira,” he said, gliding in with Kaela still on his arm, “you wound me. Kaela had thoughts heavy on her heart, and I, as any attentive husband should, lent my ear to her troubles. Would you have me do less?”

His tone was honeyed, of course—flavored with just enough sincerity to blur the lines between teasing and truth.

Kaela, for her part, flushed again—gods help the woman, she was an open book written in moonlight and blushes—but she held her ground.

The moment had changed, after all. One does not stand before a lioness and expect no judgment.

Sephira’s eyes flicked between them—reading, always reading. And though she said nothing just yet, the air thickened with the weight of unsaid things.

A curious tableau, isn’t it? A king caught between two queens, one in warmth, one in ice.

Sephira shifted slightly on the bed, her lips pursing as she fixed Arkanos with a pointed look.

“We were supposed to discuss the name for our child tonight,” she said, her voice calm but edged with intent. “I believe such a… special moment is certainly something only the two of us should share.”

Arkanos tilted his head, a playful glint in his emerald eyes. “You have a point, my love,” he said, glancing at Kaela with a teasing smile. “Sorry, dear. I guess we’ll have to see each other later.”

Kaela’s lips curved into a soft, understanding smile, though her blue eyes sparkled with quiet mischief. She stepped closer to Arkanos, leaning in to murmur, “I’ll hold you to your promise from earlier, my emperor. Don’t forget.”

Arkanos’s smile widened, warm and genuine.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he replied.

They shared a brief, tender kiss, her hand lingering on his chest before she turned, her sapphire gown rustling softly as she stepped out of the chamber, the heavy doors closing behind her with a quiet thud.

The room settled into a charged silence as the echo of the closing doors faded. Sephira remained perched on the edge of the bed, her posture impeccable, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement beneath her earlier irritation.

“Well,” Sephira said at last, “it seems you’ve had a merry evening, my husband. Kaela’s heart unburdened in the greenhouse, her laughter trailing you like a minstrel’s tune, and I, left to warm a cold bed alone, waiting to claim what little remains of your attention—the thought of it now pains me to my very bones.”

Arkanos chuckled, undeterred, and approached her. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Sephira,” he teased, his tone a playful parry, though his emerald eyes watched her keenly, as one might a storm gathering on the horizon.

A bold man, to jest so with a woman whose glances could fell empires—yet such was the boldness of an emperor.

Sephira’s lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Jealousy doesn’t suit me?” she countered, leaning forward slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.

“Oh, but I do get jealous, Arkanos. All the time, actually. Your attention, your approval—they’re like finely aged wine to me, and quite frankly, I’m happily addicted.”

She slowly rose from the bed, her clothing rustling softly as she approached him.

The scent of lavender clung to her—subtle, but calming, like freshly laundered sheets left to dry in the sun.

Her fingers reached for the crimson coat he wore, tugging it gently off his shoulders. The fabric was thick and heavy, lined with golden trim. It slid down his arms with a faint rustle before falling to the floor.

Her hands didn’t stop. They rose to his chest, fingers brushing lightly against the rough texture. She started undoing the small brass buttons, one after another. The cloth loosened with each press, giving way to the warmth of his skin underneath.

She could feel the heat of him as she peeled the tunic open. His chest was bare now—smooth in places, rough in others, marked by faint scars and the hardened lines of muscle. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she paused for a moment, just letting her palms rest there.

The candlelight flickered in the corner of the room, casting a soft orange glow over his skin, catching in the angles of his collarbone and the shadows between each breath he took.

Arkanos raised an eyebrow, his tone amused. “So much for choosing a name,” he said, giving her a small grin. The bedframe nudged the back of his legs now—carved mahogany, with soft dark furs spread over the mattress.

She met his smile with one of her own, but there was something sharper behind it. With a gentle push of her hands, he let himself fall backward. His body landed on the bed with a soft thud, and the scent of pinewood from the mattress frame mixed with the faint lavender still clinging to her.

Climbing on after him, she leaned over, her knee sinking into the sheets beside him. Her touch lingered on his chest, nails just lightly scratching his skin as she looked into his eyes.

“Oh, that can wait,” she said quietly, almost teasing. “What I want to know now is… what exactly are your plans with the High Priestess?”

There was heat in her voice, but not just from jealousy—it was the kind that came from curiosity, from wanting to know all of a man, even the parts he tried to keep tucked away.

And that’s the thing about Sephira—she never came at anything directly. Not when she could wrap her questions in silk and scent and skin.