Chapter 115

“Eliminate the threat first, then send the prince in. He wants to change the game, not participate in a pointless slaughter. He needs the King of Parman, not another war.”

Theresa’s casual use of the word ‘slaughter’ reminded Glenn of her father.

Count Calvados, one of Heineken’s most formidable warriors, had chosen to remain a Margrave, distancing himself from the power struggles of the capital. His eldest daughter, Theresa, had been expected to inherit his title and responsibilities.

Glenn had stolen her away, effectively imprisoning her within the gilded cage of the Imperial Palace, earning himself a lifetime ban from the Calvados estate.

He still hadn’t been forgiven, despite the years that had passed. His father-in-law was a stubborn man.

Theresa’s cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink.

“Darling…”

She only used that endearment when she wanted something.

Emperor Glenn, his eyes narrowing, looked at her adoringly.

“Theresa, you’re so cunning.”

“Do you hate it?”

“No. I find it utterly adorable.”

Theresa laughed at his lovesick tone, then, placing her hands on her swollen belly, stood up.

“Then go. Do your work.”

They didn’t have time for this.

Motivating the Emperor was one of her privileges as Empress.

She considered it a small act of revenge, for being caged like a bird.

She’d be busy with the baby after the birth, but then she’d resume her duties, her involvement in state affairs.

She should be working now, but Glenn, overly concerned for her well-being, had delegated most of her responsibilities to Duke Hendrick.

So, this was her way of contributing… of interfering.

Emperor Glenn often complained about his unruly children and his disobedient subjects, but Theresa knew he secretly enjoyed their defiance, their refusal to conform to his expectations.

“Don’t worry so much. It’s our duty to support them, to catch them when they fall. They might be different, but they’ll figure it out.”

Theresa, her gait slightly unsteady due to her pregnancy, waddled out of the patio, and the Emperor hurried after her.

The servants followed, leaving the messenger alone, staring after the Empress with an expression of awe.

 

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“We’re going to imprint.”

—What?!

The Emperor and Empress gaped at the Crown Prince, who’d delivered the news as casually as if he were announcing their wedding.

“T-That’s the plan,” Carl Lindbergh added, scratching his head.

—Adrian understands the implications, but Carl… are you certain?

The Empress asked, and Carl, blushing, nodded.

“It’s inappropriate for me to enter Parman as an unbonded Omega, Your Majesty. Especially with the current uncertainties.”

Someone had mentioned that he would have already experienced two heat cycles if Adrian hadn’t been diligently marking him. He hadn’t fully grasped the implications, the potential dangers of an unexpected heat.

“And Kitchener is there. Everyone knows Heineken forbids pre-marital imprinting. If Carl Lindbergh were to encounter him unbonded, he’d be a target.”

—Well, I doubt that Alpha-wannabe would be capable of anything substantial.

The Emperor, nodding in agreement with Adrian, scoffed.

“Which is why, I won’t be using magic stones to suppress my rut this time.”

Adrian licked his lips unconsciously, and Carl Lindbergh, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes, quickly looked away.

After their confessions, their bodies, once hesitant, were now drawn to each other like magnets with Carl willingly surrendering to Adrian’s desires.

If this was how intense their interactions were normally, what would happen during a rut, when he lost all control? He was both excited and terrified.

The Empress, watching the emotions flicker across Carl’s face, said gently:

—It seems like a reasonable decision. You’re already engaged, and in Heineken, engagements carry the same weight as marriage. No one would fault you for expediting the imprinting process.

She sided with them as she gently rubbed her belly, calming the increasingly active child within.

—In fact, why don’t you accompany Adrian to Parman after the imprinting?

Carl, startled by the Emperor’s suggestion, quickly protested.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Adrian, who’d been anticipating his father’s approval, glared at Carl Lindbergh.

“As I’ve mentioned before, Adrian is the Crown Prince. If something were to happen…”

—And you are the future Empress. What do you think will happen to Adrian if you’re harmed? I’ve already explained this.

The Emperor, cutting Carl off, gave him an ultimatum.

—Either Adrian goes to Parman with you, or you both stay here.

Carl Lindbergh’s eyes darted back and forth between the Emperor and Adrian, trapped between them.

From the Emperor’s perspective, there was no choice to be made. Adrian was their best warrior, a powerful mage, and Carl’s bonded partner. It was only natural for him to be by Carl’s side.

The Empress, seeing Carl Lindbergh’s distress, spoke gently.

—Carl, as the prince of Lindbergh and the future Empress of Heineken, you must understand that bonded mates are two halves of the same soul. If you die in Parman, Adrian will wither away here.

“What do you mean?”

—Imprinting is a merging of souls. Losing your mate extinguishes your will to live. Sometimes, if there are children, they become the anchor, the reason to live. That’s why the late Emperor allowed his consort, a marriage not of his choosing – a necessity – not love.

“A merging of souls… I knew it was significant, but…”

He’d assumed it was just a metaphor, a poetic way of describing the effects of pheromones and romantic love.

Adrian… withering away? He couldn’t even imagine it.

—That’s how it usually is. And since you’re the one taking the risk, Carl, it’s only natural for Adrian to be by your side.

Carl Lindbergh wanted to be a protector, a nurturer. He didn’t want to burden Adrian with his own dangerous choices.

But…

—If you’re not certain, then forget about imprinting.

“Mother!”

Adrian’s sharp tone startled her.

He’d finally convinced her, and he wasn’t going to let Carl back down, even if the prince himself protested. They were meant to be together. There was no one else for Adrian, and the same was true for Carl.

Adrian was the only one who knew his secret, his true identity. He was, perhaps, his only true confidant in this world.

Carl had made it clear that he had no intention of leaving Adrian. Imprinting was inevitable, they were simply expediting the process.

Yet, Adrian couldn’t shake off a lingering sense of anxiety. What if Carl changed his mind? What if he ran off to Parman alone?

—Bonding your soul to another person, especially at such a young age, when there are so many possibilities, so many people to meet… it’s not an easy decision. That’s why we have engagements, a period of courtship, allowing time for both parties to solidify their feelings. A trial period, if you will. It allows for imprinting without the stigma of a hasty decision.

While there had been no recorded instances of a rejected imprinting or a broken engagement within the Imperial family – the allure of a Heineken Alpha was simply too strong – she still felt a flicker of unease. She’d been manipulated by the Emperor and had learned to manipulate him in return. She’d resisted, she’d rebelled, but she had eventually fallen in love.

And this was her son, raised by her, inheriting Glenn’s strengths.

She was confident.

Carl, after a moment of hesitation, a moment where he’d almost agreed to remain behind, smiled softly. Adrian’s heart skipped a beat.

“I suppose I have no choice. I have no intention of leaving Adrian or sending him away. I’ll imprint, and we’ll go to Parman together. You have our permission, Your Majesties.”

The Empress beamed.

She’d always thought Adrian was a miniature version of Glenn, but his smile… it was all Theresa.

Carl, captivated by the dimple that appeared on her cheek, identical to Adrian’s, stared at them both, marveling at their resemblance.

—Congratulations.

The Empress seemed more excited than they were.

—When is your rut due, Adrian?

“…Tomorrow.”

The Emperor grinned.

—That gives us roughly three days.

Heineken’s army would reach Parman in a day.

Plenty of time to pave the way for them.

—And be mindful of contraception. While I wouldn’t mind sharing parenting duties with Theresa, pregnancies can be disruptive.

Adrian and Carl offered him polite, strained smiles at his teasing remark, while Theresa pinched his arm sharply.

—Oh my, oh my.

The Empress suddenly gasped, clutching her belly. The baby was kicking excitedly, as if sharing her joy.

 

❖ ❖ ❖

 

The news of the impending imprinting reached Leia Lindbergh.

It was Belfry who’d relayed the message.

He’d become the designated communicator between Leia Lindbergh and the castle. Leia, seeing his sullen expression through the communication device, couldn’t help but smile.

With Adrian Heineken entering his rut, two key members of the castle’s leadership would be unavailable. Leia Lindbergh’s return was now unavoidable.

“It seems my presence here is no longer required.”

Belfry chuckled wryly, and Leia was secretly pleased that he was finally letting go.

—I’ve told you countless times, Belfry, this wasn’t your place to begin with.

“A man can dream, can’t he? But I suppose even that is no longer allowed.”

Belfry, despite Leia’s teasing remark, seemed to have recovered his usual composure.

He’d still be wallowing in self-pity if not for Leia’s constant, almost intrusive concern.

Leia, after a moment of silence, asked, her tone curious:

—I have to admit, even for my own brother, I find his behavior puzzling. Confessing his feelings, then confessing them again…

“According to the prince, liking someone and loving someone are… different.”

Carl Lindbergh, claiming there were different levels of affection, had requested a private conversation with Belfry, then proceeded to declare, ‘Even if Adrian finds another true love, I won’t let him go.’ He’d effectively stabbed Belfry twice.

—Pfft… He’s such a fool.

Leia, recognizing Carl Lindbergh’s misconception, didn’t correct him. It would only reopen Belfry’s barely healed wounds.