With his hand locked around her wrist, Ottol pulled Flora into a firm embrace.
Stunned, she could only whisper his name in confusion.
But this was not an act of comfort. He looked down at her with a stern expression and asked what on earth she had been thinking.
Then he scolded her — for standing up in front of the entire assembled nobility and offering to read that particular letter out loud. Shameless, he called her.
Flora was floored. She demanded to know how he could possibly know what was in it.
With a slight smirk, Ottol revealed that he and Cecil had confirmed the contents of that letter a long time ago.
Still holding her, he explained exactly why he was so annoyed.
He recalled his physician examining the letter and remarking that it read rather like a love confession. And so the emperor wanted to know why his wife would secretly send a love letter clearly meant for him to the Queen of Pedania instead.
Flustered, Flora tried to stop him, insisting that it was not a love letter at all.
She had only wanted to tell her mother that he had been kind to her. Her mother's conviction that he was a cruel tyrant was the reason their two countries had always been at each other's throats, and Flora had thought — she had honestly thought — that if the queen simply knew the truth, something might change.
Ottol scoffed and asked whether she seriously believed one letter could change a queen's mind.
Flustered all over again, Flora demanded to know how he had got hold of her letter in the first place.
He smirked and told her it was thanks to a certain gossip-loving maid.
Flora realised at once that he meant Vishi.
Her maid, Ottol explained, had shown the draft to the captain of the guard, and Elon had reported its contents directly to him.
Which meant that the emperor had known from the beginning that the letter Duke Glass presented in the throne room was a forgery.
Flora asked a sharp question then. Had he not suspected her at all? She could have shown her maid a fake draft on purpose, precisely so that it would reach him.
Ottol dismissed the suggestion coolly. He knew she would not do such a thing.
Then he revealed the second, more definitive reason he had been certain the letter was a forgery.
The man who forged it was one of his own subordinates.
The revelation left Flora speechless.
Leaning in, he clarified the whole picture for her. Duke Glass and the other nobles, he said, toying with a strand of her hair, were all dancing in the palm of his hand. The entire plot had been a setup he controlled from the very start.
Flora processed his words and sighed, because this was precisely the kind of intricate, patient, unsettling plan that Ottol would build.
And underneath the sigh came a wave of fear. If she ever dared to tell the queen about the secret she had found in that journal, Ottol would undoubtedly discover it. There was nothing that happened in this palace that did not eventually reach him.
Elsewhere, Vishi paced the halls in a panic, trying to make sense of the day. She refused to believe that her lady would ever work with the enemy.
Her frantic thoughts were cut short when she looked up and froze.
Ottol had arrived, leading a stoic Flora by the hand, his face unreadable.
The maid stood rooted to the spot as Elon placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.
His grip firm on Flora's hand, Ottol gave a cold command. The empress was now under house arrest, and her palace was off-limits to everyone.
He led her away, and the grand doors slammed shut behind them, and the onlookers whispered in fear.
Was he hurting her in there? The nobles could only assume the emperor's fury to be unstoppable.
Filled with dread, Vishi clasped her hands together and hoped desperately for her lady's safety.
The supposed house arrest turned out to be nothing more than a private game for Ottol.
Behind the closed doors, a flustered Flora was pleading with him to stop his relentless teasing.
Ottol simply smirked and told her they had not even got to the best part yet. He playfully held her down and challenged her to silence him now, with her hands restrained.
Blushing, but determined, Flora found a way. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, catching the emperor completely off guard with the sudden boldness of it.
Recovering from his shock, his surprise turned into a sly grin. He leaned in and whispered that she should remember she was the one who had started this.
In one smooth move he turned the tables and laid her down on the bed.
A flustered Flora watched as he began to remove his shirt, and pointed out nervously that there were people standing right outside the door.
Ottol paused, a playful look in his eyes.
He apologised if he had got her hopes up, and reminded her that he could not possibly get any closer to a suspect under investigation right now.
He pulled back and explained: if he stayed in here too long, Duke Glass and the others would talk.
A confused Flora asked why, in that case, he had bothered to undress at all.
With a smirk, Ottol confessed that he simply could not help teasing her, because her reactions were far too cute.
He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.
As he got up to dress, Flora asked about the nobles — about what would happen next, about what they would do.
Ottol simply told her not to worry. He would handle it.
Touched by the certainty in his voice, she hugged him from behind.
Still holding her arms where they were, he agreed to the silent plea in the gesture, which was a plea to be trusted.
Later, he sat with his aides, Count Carl and Cecil.
The imperial physician questioned the boldness of the plan. He admitted it was the fastest possible way to clear Flora's name. He also thought it was the riskiest.
Count Carl revealed their inside source: a spy working directly under Duke Glass.
Unfazed, Ottol signed a document at his desk. He assured them both that he would not put their spy at risk. Instead, he intended to offer Duke Glass a deal that the man would have no choice at all but to accept.
Cecil understood the plan. He still had one crucial question, and he asked it carefully.
Would they continue investigating Her Majesty?
Ottol fell silent, and a memory flashed through his mind: Flora's tear-streaked face, and the sincerity with which she had looked at him and said that they were husband and wife, that she wanted to stay by his side, that she wanted to become his real wife.
A confident smile touched his lips as he looked up at his aides.
He had made his decision, he told them.
He would trust the empress — not because of evidence, and not because of politics, but simply because she was his wife.