Chosen Bride of the Seven Dark Princes

Chapter 182 - The Many Shades Of Love

For a moment, the Emperor was speechless.

Whoever heard of a Consort asking to be separated from her Emperor? It was a coveted position that thousands of women would give anything to be able to occupy.

And it wasn't as if he treated her poorly! He really took good care of this woman, his youngest Consort. Didn't she get anything and everything she wanted? He heaped jewelry and clothing on her. She lived in supreme luxury without any wants or needs.

Their son Slate was Prime Warrior because she insisted that he was the best Prince for the job. Of course, the fact that Slate really was the best Prince for the job was only icing on the cake.

He had gotten Prime Warrior at such a young age because his mother wanted him to be recognized as a valued Prince even though he would never be able to be Crown Prince.

Emperor Rex had been more than happy to settle it in such manner. Happy wife, happy life, right?

Emperor Rex gritted his teeth. He felt so wronged.

He never even kept a harem!!! Lesser kings had dozens, even hundreds of women in their harem and he had none because he could barely even handle his wives.

It was always either Gwendolyn, Fatima, Theodora, or Anastasia, and in fact, lately, it was mostly Gwen who he spent the nights with. He truly did have amazing sex with his youngest wife.

She'd always been the easiest one to get along with.

In over twenty years, she had never demanded much of anything. Never gave him any heartburn about anything at all. She had never told him that he needed to give a little more love to her.

And suddenly, here she was, asking him—no, TELLING HIM that she wanted her freedom???

Absurd!!!

All she ever had to do was ask him for more love and he would have gladly given it to her.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere. You're my wife, and you have to stay with me."

"You can't keep me here against my will, Rex." She grimaced.

"No, but I can ask you nicely." The Emperor rubbed his head with frustration. "We can try to work this out."

Gwendolyn stared at a dirt spot on the floor with great interest.

"Honey. Why is this all of a sudden a big deal when it's never been a big deal before?"

Gwendolyn choked down a huge lump in her throat.

"Because I saw the way Süren looked at Lyra, and I suddenly realized that no man had ever looked at me in that way before."

"In—in what way?"

"As if I was a precious flower that he treasured and cherished."

Emperor Rex felt as if someone had punched him in the guts.

Was he supposed to look at her every day as if he was a mooning calf?

And then he realized that it was exactly how he looked at Anastasia. Every day. For almost thirty years.

He stared at Gwendolyn and tried to analyze exactly what it was that he felt for her, and exactly what it was that he felt for Anastasia.

And for the life of him, he could barely tell the difference, not because there was no difference but because there was so much difference.

In plain speech, they occupied opposite but equal areas of his life.

Anastasia was his glamorous goddess whom he adored. He cherished the ground she walked on. She was his angel that he put above himself, on a pedestal, and there was a good reason for this.

For almost thirty years, he had constantly felt that he had to compensate for Anastasia not getting the Empress throne she deserved.

Her son, Dante, poor kid, should have been the Crown Prince all this time. Emperor Rex had also tried to compensate by giving Dante every resource that he needed to do whatever he wished.

Since all Dante wanted to do was accumulate wealth, the Emperor did everything in his power to support him in hopes it was enough to ameliorate the fact that the Crown Prince position had been taken from him so openly and unfairly.

He cherished Anastasia with all his heart, but it didn't mean she didn't have her flaws. She tended to be on the more reserved side, a bit cool with her ardor. She also rarely allowed him to do all the nasties he wanted to do with her.

It took a lot out of him when he was with Anastasia because he was the one who actively gave to her anything she wanted.

Gwen…she was the exact opposite! She was warm and caring, and she gave him everything he wanted and needed, in and out of bed.

When he was too tired to give anything more to every single person or entity that wanted something from him, he went to Gwen to receive her ministration because she always filled him back up.

The Emperor looked at his youngest wife and realized in belated panic. He needed her!

From simple back rubs, to simple sex that he didn't have to do anything fancy to enjoy, she gave it all.

She played her music for him when his mind was too tired to think, and she read him books when his eyes were too tired to look at the words.

She sang him songs to put him to sleep when his brains were too active and couldn't sleep. She mothered him when he needed mothering and cared for him when he needed care.

And yes, of course he knew she loved him without reservation, without demanding anything in return, and without conditions. This was why he always sought her out when he was exhausted and could not give any more.

She was his well of strength and his source of inspiration. For her to say that he did not love her was absurd! Of course he loved her!

"Honey. I love you. I know I don't say it enough," hardly ever actually, "but it's true." He'd just assumed she knew because it had been twenty-five years and they'd never had any issues.

"Well Rex. I don't feel loved. All you do is come to me and use me. Out of all your wives, I get used by you the most and I'm just tired of giving and giving and getting nothing in return. I'm all used up, Rex."

Gwendolyn turned away, missing the hurt that suddenly flared in the Emperor's eyes. He reached out to touch her, but his hand reached thin air as she moved away from his reach.

"Gwendolyn." He called out. "Let's talk about this more over dinner tonight."

She paused.

"I'll come to you at dinner time. We need to talk."

Without turning back, she nodded and then kept walking.

The Emperor heaved a sigh. He had to find a way to make her feel loved. Between now and dinnertime, maybe he could find some kind of gift for her.

Gwendolyn kept walking. She had turned away from him to hide the tears that would not stop flowing. She hoped he would reach out for her, but of course, he had not stopped her from walking away.

She had to go home and prepare for the dinner they would have tonight. Perhaps she could perform the newest song she had written on the harp for him. He always enjoyed her music.

There was also a new dress that she'd saved for a special night with him. He'd never seen her in it.

Maybe they could talk it out.