Chapter 109 109
"So it's because of this child," she said. Her eyes were filled with venom, as if she could strangle him if she had a chance. "You want to make this unknown child your heir despite him not being your blood, don't you?!"
Ares let out a small grunt. His wide eyes blinked up at me, glassy and confused. I smoothed a finger along his cheek, and he calmed.
My gaze lifted to Catherine slowly.
"My decisions," I said, each word measured, "are none of your business."
Her lips parted in disbelief.
"Ares is my child," I continued evenly. "Just like the baby in your womb is. That is what matters. Not politics. Not power. The child under my roof is mine to protect."
The silence that followed was fragile.
Then she broke into a raw, ugly cry that tore from her throat. Tears spilled down her cheeks like water from cheesecloth. If anything, they made her look more unhinged.
"We'll see!" she spat. "We'll see if this little twat here…" she pointed a shaking finger at Ares, "...will smell the throne."
The words snapped something tight inside my chest.
"Is that a threat?" My voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous. "Are you threatening my child in front of me?"
I rose to my full height, still holding Ares, and the nurse, uncertain, instinctively stepped closer. My stare locked onto Catherine, and for the first time since she entered, she faltered.
Her chin lifted, but her eyes flickered.
"I…"
I didn't let her finish.
"Guards."
The two stationed by the door straightened immediately.
"Throw her out."
Catherine's head whipped toward them in shock. "You wouldn't dare."
"I already have."
They approached her carefully, as one would a wild animal. She struggled the moment their hands touched her arms.
"Unhand me! Daevir, you cannot do this to me! I carry your heir!"
Ares stirred again at the noise, his tiny face scrunching. A small whimper escaped him.
Only then did I look back at Catherine.
She was still fighting the guards, dignity slipping through her fingers with every raised shout.
"With everything I've been through for you!" she screamed. "You treat me like this? You are heartless! Cold! You never cared!"
Her voice grated against my ears.
I barely felt guilty. Not when I'm totally exhausted.
"Take her to the right wing palace." I spat coldly at the guard.
She stared at me as if I had struck her.
They dragged her toward the door.
Then it happened.
Her body jerked.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips. The anger drained from her face, replaced by shock. Her grip on the guards tightened suddenly.
A dark patch spread across the fabric of her gown.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Catherine's eyes widened in horror.
Her water broke.
A thin stream hit the polished floor.
She doubled slightly, clutching her stomach.
A strained cry slipped from her throat: this one was real this time.
My eyes widened.
One of the guards swore under his breath.
The maid froze mid-step.
Catherine looked at me with fear in her eyes, and I knew without a doubt she was in labour.
I thrust Ares gently into the maid's arms the moment Catherine's knees buckled.
"Hold him steady," I ordered, already moving.
Catherine's face had gone pale beneath the paint and jewels. Sweat lined her brow, her fingers digging into her swollen belly as another groan ripped through her.
"Daevir…" she gasped, her voice small in a way I had never heard before.
I caught her before she could collapse fully, my arm supporting her weight. For all her sharp tongue and schemes, she was still carrying a life. My child.
"Summon the apothecaries. Now!" I barked.
The guards needed no second command. The hallway erupted into motion.
Catherine cried out again, louder this time, her grip tightening on my sleeve. The sound echoed down the stone corridors as we hurried her through the palace.
By the time we reached the palace apothecary, she was nearly sobbing through clenched teeth.
They took her from me at the door.
The Emperor is not allowed in the birthing room of his child.
The doors shut in my face.
And suddenly, there was nothing to do but wait.
Her cries carried through the thick wood anyway.
I paced.
Once. Twice. A dozen times.
I told myself my concern was for my child. But the truth was, I did not want the mother of my child to die.
No child deserved to enter the world carrying death behind him.
Another hoarse, desperate cry sounded from inside.
My jaw tightened.
And then, unbidden, another face rose in my mind.
Amarien.
And the memory struck like a blade.
Our child.
The one that never drew breath.
Was this how she cried when those nuns beat our child to death?
My chest ached.
That should be Amarien, I thought bitterly.
That should be our child being born.
The loss had never truly left me. Emperors were not granted the luxury of grief, so it hid in my bones instead.
Catherine screamed again from inside, and the present snapped back into place. I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling slowly.
"Live, please live," I muttered under my breath, unsure if I spoke to her, the child, or a ghost from my past.
And then,
A different cry pierced the air.
A newborn's wail.
My heart leaped.
The apothecary doors creaked open, and two physicians emerged, sleeves rolled, faces warm with satisfaction. One of them smiled broadly when he saw me.
"Your Majesty," he said, stepping forward to pat my shoulder, "all is well."
My pulse thudded once in my ears.
He grinned wider.
"Come see your son," he said.