Silent Crown: The Masked Prince's Bride-Chapter 283: A Night Of Longing

Emma looked up at him, eyes defiant yet shy, her lips curving ever so slightly. "You said we were married, didn’t you?" she asked softly.

Elias straightened, towel forgotten in his hand. "I—yes, but you were angry, I thought—"

"Of course, I was angry." She smoothed the folds of her skirt, her movements deliberate, nervous. "You got us married without telling me. Who does that?"

He winced. "Me, apparently."

Her gaze flicked to him with his beautiful the damp hair, the clean shirt, the guilt written all over his face. Then she sighed, shaking her head. "But since I’m married, I suppose I should look the part."

Elias’s heart skipped. "You mean... you’re not angry?"

"Oh, I’m furious," she said, walking closer until she stood just before him. Her blush deepened. "But I can’t exactly stay mad at my husband on our wedding day, can I?"

Elias’s lips parted. His heart felt too big for his chest. "I don’t deserve you," he whispered.

"No," she said simply, but her smile softened as she reached up and brushed a droplet of water from his cheek. "But you’re mine anyway."

He laughed, that rare, disarming laugh that made his dimples appear again, and Emma found herself smiling too, against her will.

"Then," he murmured, taking her hand gently, "shouldn’t we celebrate properly?"

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What are you planning now?"

"Dinner," he said quickly, holding up both hands in surrender. "Just dinner."

After dinner, they sat quietly for a while — just the two of them, side by side, the candle flickering low between them. The dishes were cleared, the night was hushed, and yet neither of them seemed to know what to do next.

Emma fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. Elias leaned back against the wall, watching her with that soft, unreadable calm that always made her nervous.

She began to babble, about the bread she’d baked too early, about the flowers he’d bought, about how the neighbor’s cat had stolen a fish that morning... anything to fill the silence. Elias listened, as he always did, his eyes steady on her face.

Then he yawned. "It’s time for bed," he said simply, as though this were any other night. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Emma froze. Her throat went dry. Bed.

She stood up a little too quickly, bumping her knee against the table. "R-right." She began stacking plates that were already clean just to have something to do.

Elias stretched, unhurried, like a man completely unaware of the storm in her chest.

When she dared a glance at him, she caught him watching her again, his gaze calm but... different. Softer. Warmer. It made her stomach flutter.

She cleared her throat and tried to meet his eyes, failed, then tried again. Her finger gently rubbed the ring on her finger. She was still in disbelief, but it had happened. If this was their wedding day... then this was... their wedding night.

Her mind tripped over the thought. Her heart thudded hard enough to make her ears ring. Excitement? Fear? She couldn’t tell.

"Do you need help?" Elias asked suddenly.

Emma blinked. "H-help?"

He nodded toward her gown. "You’ll need to get out of that before you sleep."

Emma’s heart stopped. "N-no, I can~uh~ I can manage!" she said far too quickly.

Elias raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He only smiled faintly, the kind of smile that made his dimples appear again. That infuriatingly beautiful, calm smile.

Emma fled to the partition before her brain could betray her further.

Behind the curtain, she changed into her chemise, taking longer than necessary. Her hands trembled as she folded her gown carefully; anything to delay what came next. She took a deep breath, gathered every shred of courage she had left, and stepped out.

Elias looked up immediately.

For a moment, the air between them seemed to still.

Her hair had come undone in a soft tumble down her shoulders; the candlelight caught on her pale skin and the thin fabric of her chemise. She looked like something out of a dream: delicate, hesitant, real.

Elias swallowed hard and quickly looked away, his usual composure faltering. "I— I’ll take the floor," he muttered. "Like always."

Emma blinked, caught between relief and... something else she didn’t dare name. She looked at the blanket he was spreading on the floor, something he had done from the day they started living in this house. He spread out his blanket with military precision, as though order could tame the chaos of the moment.

Disappointment. Yeah, that was what she felt. Disappointment.

Slowly, Emma climbed into the small bed, her heart still hammering.

In the silence that followed, the world seemed smaller with just their quiet breaths, the creak of the floorboards, and the faint scent of ash and flowers.

Emma rolled over, facing the edge of the bed where Elias lay on the floor, silent, unmoving, and maddeningly peaceful.

Did he forget what tonight was supposed to be? Or did he simply not care?

Her mind spiraled through a thousand thoughts. He always slept on the floor, insisting she take the bed. "You need rest more than I do," he would say, always so considerate, always so infuriatingly proper.

But truth be told... she didn’t want to sleep alone. Not tonight. Not ever.

She wanted to curl into him, to breathe him in, to feel his arms around her, to finally close that unbearable distance between them. For nights she had stared at his broad back, wondering how he could fall asleep so easily while she lay there... burning.

Only now did she understood her Princess a little bit more. How unbearable it must have been for her to be married with their marriage unconsummated. It’s a living hell!

And now, on the night of their marriage, when Emma thought he might finally look at her that way...

She heard it. A soft, steady sound.

He was snoring. Snoring!!!

Emma’s jaw dropped. He fell asleep.

Her disappointment quickly curdled into outrage.

"Elias," she called softly.

There was no response.

"Elias, is your wound still healing?"

A faint gasp, and then his sleepy, confused voice came. "Uh?"

She pouted. He really was asleep.

"Is your wound still healing?" she asked again, this time her tone sharper, dry as sand.

"Yes... but I’m a lot better now," he murmured, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, that’s wonderful," she said sweetly, turning her back to him with a huff. "Then by all means, go back to sleep."

Elias blinked in the dim light. He couldn’t see her face, but something in the air had shifted — a storm brewing behind her gentle tone.

He sat up slowly, utterly lost. What have I done this time?