The Villainess Became My Alpha Husband

Elaine handed me the letter with an expression I could not quite read, and I took it from her with a small nod of gratitude that felt strangely easier to give than any sharper answer.

It had been a week now, and I still could not understand why she kept acting this way—gentle one moment, guarded the next, careful in a way that made my suspicion sharpen instead of soften. The paper felt warm from her hand when I unfolded it.

I asked, "Elaine, you went to get their letter for me in person?"

Her eyes stayed on me a moment before she answered. "Yes, I did. I had to make sure that the letter reached you safely"

That made me look away at once. "You didn’t have to." I never told her to do this for me.

"I have to, Alexander."

"You are trying to be too good to me." Yes, it makes me feel angry at her... or maybe I am angry at myself.

"You don’t want me to?"

"No, I don’t."

There was no anger in her face, only that same quiet steadiness that had started to unsettle me more than her temper ever had. "Are you sad that I didn’t inform you before going there?"

Her words shocked me. Why would I be sad that she didn’t think of informing me before doing this for me?! I yelled, "No, I am not!"

"Were you worried about me?" Elaine had a teasing expression on her face, making her look almost innocent. What the heck?! Alexander, control yourself1 This woman was a problematic alpha!

"Not at all!"

Elaine’s mouth twitched faintly, as if she knew I was lying and had decided not to press it. I looked down at the letter again and opened it carefully.

[My dear son, are you alright?

Your mother and I are missing you. We have so much to inspect as the emperor and empress. Please do not overwork yourself, and do write back soon.

Also, we do know about your duel. Hopefully, we will talk about it, okay?]

The message was gentle in a way that made something tight tug inside my chest. I held the page for a moment longer, then folded it back down and exhaled softly. Although, I was a bit scared about the ’talk.’

Around us, the palace gardens were quiet in the late afternoon light. The air was warm but not heavy, touched by a light breeze that moved through the trimmed hedges and stirred the pale flowers planted along the stone path.

The swing I sat on hung from a broad, flowering tree whose branches arched overhead, scattering little patches of shade across the ground. Its ropes were smooth and pale from use, and the wooden seat creaked faintly whenever I shifted.

Beyond the garden wall, I could hear distant birds, the soft rustle of leaves, and the murmur of servants moving somewhere far off. Everything looked almost too calm, as if the world had forgotten there was ever anything cruel in it.

I was wearing a chiffon gown that fell lightly around me, the fabric soft and cool against my skin. It was a pale shade, almost silver in the sunlight, with a delicate sheen that made it look like water when I moved.

The sleeves were loose and airy, brushing my wrists, while the neckline sat neatly without being too high or too low.

"You look good."

I blushed furiously, looking away immediately as I pinched my nose slightly. "Please don’t say these words in the future, okay?"

"No promises."

"You!"

The waist was fitted just enough to shape gently before flowing outward again, and the skirt draped around my legs in soft layers that shifted when the swing moved.

It was elegant, but light enough that I could forget I was wearing it when the breeze touched through the garden. My hair had been left loose for once, and the strands slipped over my shoulders in silver waves.

Elaine stood nearby for a moment, looking at me as if she were trying to decide whether to say something else. Then her gaze dropped to the swing.

"Should I push you?"

I looked up at her, then nodded slowly.

She moved behind me and placed both hands carefully on the back of the swing. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

"You are making this sound far too serious."

"It is serious," she said. "You might fall if I do it wrong."

I gave her a sideways look over my shoulder. "You are acting strangely again."

"I know."

That answer made me sigh, though not in annoyance this time. "Just push."

Her hands gave the swing a gentle nudge, and I moved forward with a soft rustle of fabric. The motion was slow at first, then settled into a smooth rhythm.

The garden seemed to slide around me with each pass—the flowers below, the tree above, the golden light shifting across the grass.

Elaine’s voice came from behind me. "Are your parents writing often?"

"Not enough," I said, glancing down at the letter still resting in my lap. "They write when they can. They are busy."

"They miss you."

"Yes," I said quietly. "I know."

She was silent for a moment, then asked, "Do you want to write back today?"

I looked over my shoulder at her. "Why are you suddenly so interested?"

"I am not."

"You are."

Elaine looked at me with that same calm expression. "I thought maybe it would help."

That made me look away again. "You think too much."

"And you think too little."

I snorted softly. "That sounds backward."

"It might be."

The swing moved gently under me, and for a little while neither of us spoke. The garden breeze touched my face, and the softness of the gown made it easy to forget the bandages underneath. It was almost peaceful. Almost.

Finally, I said, "You really did go there yourself?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Elaine paused behind the swing. "Because I wanted to."

That answer made me frown. "That is not a reason."

"It is to me."

I turned my head slightly. "You are impossible."

"I know that, Alexander."

"Why do you like to repeat yourself so much?" I let out a quiet breath and looked back down at the letter. "You could have sent a servant."

"I could have."

"But you went yourself."

"Yes."

"Why do you keep doing things like this?"

Her hands remained lightly on the swing. "Because someone should."

The answer was so simple that it unsettled me more than anything clever would have.

I stared at the page in my lap and then said, a little more softly, "You are still being too good to me."

Elaine’s voice came quieter than before. "Maybe you just are not used to it."

I did not answer that right away.

The swing moved again, and the garden around me blurred with the motion—the pale flowers, the sunlit stone path, the tree branches swaying above. When I finally looked back at her, Elaine was watching me with an expression that was harder to read than before.

"Push a little more slowly," I said.

She obeyed at once. "Like this?"

"Yes."

"Better?"

"A little."

That made the corner of her mouth lift faintly. "Good."

I narrowed my eyes at her, but the irritation in my chest had gone softer now, worn down by the quiet of the garden and the steadiness in her hands. "You are still strange."

"And you are still sitting here."

I glanced down at the letter again, then up at the bright sky beyond the branches. "Yes," I said. "I suppose I am."