𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 4 Chapter 157 JAYLAH
Five days. Jaylah managed to stay away from Alexander for five days. He did not seek her out, so he clearly did not want to see her. As the time she spent in the company of new faces—replacement faces for the ones of the soldiers and friends she lost—and her sleepless nights full of whispering voices racked up, she craved reprieve so badly. She wanted a shred of her old life back. Perhaps enough to damage her pride for it.
Besides, she did not think she could live with their last conversation being about how she did not want him around. Not before he left again. Once, she may have been too arrogant to make the first move, but she now knew the weight of last words.
"Wait here," she told her soldiers as she collected the bravery to approach the door of his old quarters. Some of her attendants had come to alert her that he had been released from the infirmary a few days ago. She wondered how they suspected she would care; there was no one left that knew her. When Jaylah knocked, she breathed in deeply, trying to think of what she could possibly say to make things right again. She had to. This was the only thing she could salvage.
As soon as Alexander opened the door, his eyes narrowed, though he did not show any resentment on his face. She was certain he hid it. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Your Majesty?"
Jaylah found she could barely look directly at him, suddenly nervous at the reality of him so near after all this time. "I came to ask if we could have a discussion. I do not like the way I left things."
"Oh really? Because I enjoyed it quite nicely. Are you here for an encore?"
"No. I am here to apologize."
"It's a bit too late for that," he said, but stepped flippantly away from the threshold, which Jaylah took as an invitation to come inside. "I'm leaving."
"You are going home."
"It'll be good for me, I think. Or at least better than this." He leaned against the windowsill and looked at the morning sun shining over the grounds. It carved the profile of his face into something akin to the marble busts that populated Jaylah's dead home. Something like art. "Sonia's dead, isn't she?"
Jaylah blinked at his bluntness. "Yes. But before she died, she made it clear to me she wanted you to heal and eventually thrive."
"That's adorable." He was quiet for a moment, not bothered in the slightest, and Jaylah recalled the nights he chose to be vulnerable with her and how wildly different he made himself now.
"Do you plan to resume your morbid business overseas? I expect that might heal you."
"Probably." She thought that was his only answer, and was relieved when he added, "I have people to find, those I was enslaved with. A brother I left behind. You'd hate him too. Maybe even my stepfather, if he hasn't gambled his life away by now."
