Chapter 34: The Empress’s Reckoning

The rain had stopped by the time Drogo reached the edge of the courtyard, but the air still clung to him like a wet shroud. He heard the splash of Bernard’s boots behind him, and then the whisper of a voice that did not belong to either of them.

“You ride early, Prince.”

Drogo turned. Judith stood in the shadow of the colonnade, wrapped in a cloak of deep violet, her hair braided tight against her scalp. She looked as though she had not slept, and yet her eyes were bright, sharp as glass shards.

“The dawn favors those who do not linger,” Drogo said, offering a smile that cost him nothing.

“Indeed.” She stepped forward, her slippers silent on the wet stone. “I heard a rumor that Lothar’s camp at Compiègne swells with men who believe the crown is already theirs. And that you intend to deliver something to them. Something heavy.”

Drogo’s smile did not waver. “Rumors are like crows, Empress. They gather where the carrion is thickest.”

“I am not here for riddles.” Her voice dropped, and the warmth fled from it. “I know about the seal.”

The words hung between them like a blade. Bernard shifted behind Drogo, but Drogo held Judith’s gaze, letting the silence stretch until it became a question she had to answer herself.

“If you think I will let you hand my son’s future to Lothar,” she said, “you have misread the game entirely.”

“I have not misread anything.” Drogo took a step closer, close enough to smell the lavender oil she wore, close enough to see the faint tremor at the corner of her mouth. “I am delivering the seal to Lothar. That is true. But I am also delivering it to Pepin’s messengers, who will tell him that Lothar bought it with promises of land he does not yet hold. And I am delivering it to Louis the German, who will hear that his brothers have already divided the empire between them, and that he was never invited to the feast.”

Judith’s face went very still.

“You are playing all three against each other,” she said slowly. “And you intend to be the only one who knows the whole board.”

“I intend to be the only one who ends the game without blood on his hands.” Drogo paused. “But I need you, Empress. Not as an enemy. As a witness.”

“A witness to what?”

“To the moment Lothar believes he has won.” Drogo let the words settle. “When he takes the seal, he will think he holds the empire. But he will also hold the proof of his own greed, and every man who sees it will know he bought his crown rather than earned it. His father will know. His brothers will know. And when the story is told in every hall from here to Rome, it will be told by those who saw him take it.”

Judith’s eyes narrowed. “And what do I gain from this?”

“You gain a son who is not caught in the middle.” Drogo’s voice softened. “Charles is young. He has time. But if you push him forward now, he will be swept away by the tide the moment it turns. Let Lothar and Pepin and Louis tear each other apart. Let them bleed the empire white. And when they are exhausted, your son will be the one who gathers the pieces—because you will have kept him out of the storm.”

Judith was silent for a long moment. The wind stirred the wet leaves in the courtyard, and somewhere beyond the walls a horn sounded, thin and distant.

“You are asking me to trust you,” she said at last.

“I am asking you to trust yourself.” Drogo met her eyes. “You have spent years learning to see the moves before they are made. This is the move that wins the game. Not because it is clever, but because it is true. Lothar will take the seal, and he will believe he has won. And that belief will be his undoing.”

Judith studied him, and for the first time since he had known her, Drogo saw something other than calculation in her gaze. It was almost—he searched for the word—almost like respect.

“You are more dangerous than your father ever was,” she said quietly. “And far more dangerous than your brothers know.”

“I am only dangerous to those who stand in the way of peace,” Drogo said. “And you are not standing in my way. Not anymore.”

A slow smile spread across Judith’s lips, and it was colder than the rain had been. “Very well, Prince. I will play your game. But if you fail—if Lothar takes the seal and uses it against us—I will make certain you are remembered not as the clever son, but as the one who broke the empire.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Judith turned and walked back into the colonnade, her cloak trailing behind her like a shadow. And as she disappeared into the dark of the palace, Bernard stepped forward, his voice low.

“Do you trust her?”

“No,” Drogo said. “But I trust her ambition. And that is enough.”

He turned toward the stables, where his horse waited, saddled and ready. The dawn was breaking now, grey and pale, and the road to Compiègne lay before him like an open wound.

“Send word to Pepin,” he said over his shoulder. “Tell him the gates are ready. Tell him the crown is within his reach. And tell him that Lothar is already wearing it.”

Bernard nodded and slipped away into the mist.

Drogo mounted his horse and gathered the reins, feeling the weight of the seal against his chest, warm as a stolen heart. He had one day to deliver it. One day to make Lothar believe he had won. One day to set the trap that would end the war before it truly began.

And as he rode out through the gates of Aachen, the rain began to fall again, soft and relentless, washing the city clean of everything it had witnessed.

Behind him, the palace rose against the grey sky like a monument to all the promises that had been broken within its walls. Before him, the road stretched into the unknown, and the storm was waiting.

Drogo urged his horse forward, and the water closed over him like a benediction.