Chapter 577: Two Cowards

"Before I become the emperor, I understand why you did what you did. But after?"

When Damon said that, Angela had gasped in shock.

Her brother was—

Only after he said that did she realize that all this time, her brother had been worrying about her. And this much. Not just the cursory, obligatory concern of a sibling who happened to share blood and a childhood, no.

It was exactly the soul-eating kind of worry that kept a man awake at night, that made him stare at the ceiling and wonder if his sister was happy, if she was safe, if she was being loved the way she deserved.

To Stevan’s proposal, Angela looked deeply into Damon’s eyes. The relief and satisfaction flickering there was so subtle that no one would be able to see it. But she could. She was his sister.

She finally saw how long he had waited for this proposal, perhaps longer than she herself. While she had been busy pining and scheming and throwing herself at a man who kept pushing her away, Damon had been watching. Calculating the odds of Stevan eventually growing a spine.

And now that it had finally happened Damon was practically vibrating with vindication.

"Marry my sister? After all you did?" Damon scoffed coldly. His voice dripped with contempt.

But Angela knew, there was nothing he wanted to hear more from Stevan than that proposal.

"In your dreams!" The Emperor spat.

Stevan, still on his knees, lifted his head. His eyes were desperate now.

"Your Majesty, I can’t live without her," Stevan said. "Please raise the vase and kill me with it at once!"

"Presumptuous!" Damon snapped.

But Angela burst into happy tears and jumped to him, hugging him tight.

Damon was almost knocked backwards, but he caught her flush. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, the same way they had when she was a child, when she’d run to him with scraped knees.

His face, when he looked down to her, seeing her tears and the happy smile on her face, twisted into annoyance.

"Do you like him this much?" He grunted.

Angela’s eyes were flooded with tears as she wept, looking up at him and nodding on his chest. She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe.

The words wouldn’t come, so she just nodded, over and over, pressing her face into his robes like she was five years old again and he was the only person in the world who could make things better.

Damon looked at her, completely helpless now. "So eager to leave your brother to marry off!"

Angela burst into more tears, burying her face on him once more. "Thank you... thank you, Brother..."

The words were muffled against his chest, but he heard them. She felt his arms tighten around her, just for a moment, before he let out a long, suffering sigh.

"What are you thanking me for? I’m not allowing you to marry!" Damon spat in anger.

Angela laughed as she cried with a wet, hiccuping sound. "Of course not before you, Brother..."

He looked after her this much. He loved her this much...

She considered herself someone who had no father, while their mother passed so early in their life. Without this brother of hers, could she even grow this big?

She had been raised by him, protected by him, shaped by him. Every privilege she enjoyed, every freedom she took for granted, every moment of happiness she had ever experienced, all of it was because Damon had made it possible.

Only because Damon could she grow into such a princess. Only because of him could she grow this powerful and influential.

Everything she could do was only allowed because such a Crown Prince existed. He had been the shadow behind the throne long before he’d actually sat on it, maneuvering and plotting and ensuring that his sister was safe and able to do whatever she wanted.

The shadow emperor. The true emperor.

And now that he had truly taken that seat... he was more formidable than ever.

All for her sake.

Damon bristled. He looked down at Stevan, who was still kneeling on the floor.

"If you truly want to repent, figure out a path to get married yourself."

Stevan flinched.

"It’s easy to reward this marriage for my sister. But if you keep that mindset and not try to find your own weapon to destroy it, even after you marry her, you’ll still be the source of her tears," Damon glared down at the man.

The emperor was telling him, in no uncertain terms, that if he didn’t find his own reason to exist beyond the dungeon walls, he’d never be worthy of her.

Stevan understood his worries. After all, he had locked himself in that dungeon the same way Angela locked herself there. They’d both been prisoners, in their own ways.

"Even finding worth in your own identity would be enough. But can you?" Damon said.

To the Emperor, Stevan’s struggle was nothing.

While he thought being the Warden didn’t allow him to love the Princess, it was nothing but cowardice. After all, he couldn’t because it was the Princess. It was Angela.

He’d convinced himself that his position made it impossible, that the gap between them was too wide, that the world would never accept their union.

People might put meaning on it the same way he put meaning to his own predicament, but it was completely different.

Damon was unable to love Ivy not because of his position. He was unable to love anyone to protect everyone. To him, it was never about Ivy.

It was never about the woman herself, it was about what loving her would mean, what it would cost, what it would destroy.

Cowardice? What if who he was scared about was himself?

The version of the emperor who regarded nothing in his path?

That was why he detested Stevan’s cowardice the most. Because Stevan’s cowardice was simple. It was easy. It was the kind of fear that could be overcome with a little courage and a lot of honesty.

Damon’s fear was something else entirely. The fear of his own power, of his own capacity for destruction, of the monster he could become if he let himself feel too much.

But he couldn’t explain that. He couldn’t tell Stevan that the man kneeling before him had it easier than he thought. He could only glare and hope the message got through.

He felt Angela’s embrace tightened over his waist, and he embraced Angela back for a moment, annoyed. He whispered, "I don’t want to look at his face for a long time."

Angela chuckled as she hiccuped. Her tears were still wet on her cheeks, but she was smiling now. "You’ll see him more frequently from now on."

Damon pulled away and glared at the man. "Get dressed and screw the fuck off."

Stevan bowed once before standing up and quickly getting himself proper. His hands were still shaking, his heart was still racing, but there was something new in his eyes. Hope.

His eyes were now lingered on Angela, who smiled at him, eyes wet.

A flicker of guilt passed across Stevan’s eyes, but he tried to smile. He should’ve done this sooner.

"Get. Out."

Damon entered his vision with a glare as hot as the sun.

Stevan bowed again and walked away. Still, his eyes lingered on Angela. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"LEAVE!"

"Yes!"

And he was gone.

Witnessing the scene from a concealed spot in the Princess’ Palace corridor, a white feathered fellow smiled.

He was right.

He truly couldn’t let go of Damon Iondora.