Chapter 110 110
I stepped into the apothecary chamber with the measured calm expected of a king, but the scent of blood, herbs, and birth struck me all at once.
I was here once with Amarien. We made love here. Probably that love that consummated our child.
Why didn't you tell me, Amarien? I would have fought for my child.
My child!
The picture of what he could be wrapped around my senses l.
Catherine lay propped against a mound of pillows, her hair damp with sweat, her face flushed and glowing in a way I had never seen on her before. Gone was the sharp-tongued woman who had stood in my library, hurling accusations. In her place was a mother, eyes soft, lips curved in triumph.
And in her arms…
A child.
My child.
She looked up when she saw me, and a radiant smile broke across her face, wide and genuine.
"Your majesty," she said softly.
I did not answer immediately. My gaze was fixed on the bundle in her arms. The tiny form shifted, letting out a faint, sleepy sound.
Catherine lifted him slightly. "He's strong," she said, pride thick in her voice. "The apothecaries say he cried louder than any newborn this season."
I moved closer, drawn by something almost instinctive. My boots felt heavy against the stone floor, yet my heart beat faster with each step.
"Let me hold him," I said.
She handed him to me without hesitation.
The moment his weight settled into my arms, something in my chest loosened. He was warm, so warm like Ares when I first carried him from the river basket. His face was scrunched, red from crying, his tiny fingers curling and uncurling as if testing the world he had entered.
I studied him in silence.
A strange calm filled me. The same calm I felt when I held Ares.
And that realization surprised me.
I had not expected it, this equal measure of care, this quiet swell of protectiveness. I thought love would divide, that one child would claim more of it than the other. But my heart chose them both.
He shifted in my arms, making a soft grunt, and his eyelids fluttered.
Catherine watched me eagerly. "He has your strength," she said. "Look at his shoulders, even now."
I almost smiled.
Then the child opened his eyes.
And the world tilted.
Blue.
Bright, piercing blue.
Not the pale blue of his mother's eye. Not the grey-blue common in the north here.
No.
This was a vivid, crystalline blue I had seen before. A crystalline blue from the South.
Theron's eyes.
A chill slid down my spine so sharply it felt like a blade drawn along bone.
My breath caught.
The baby blinked again, those blue eyes focusing nowhere, innocent, unaware of the storm they had just unleashed in my mind.
Theron.
The name thundered in my skull.
"What should we name him?" Catherine sang happily, unaware of the storm rising in my head.
My grip tightened instinctively, then loosened just as fast.
The child made a small noise, disturbed by the shift.
"Are you okay, my love?" Catherine places her palm on mine.
"I'm good."
I placed him back into Catherine's arms more abruptly than I intended.
Her brows knit together. "What…?"
I stepped back.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice edged with confusion.
I could not answer. If I opened my mouth, I might speak a truth I was not ready to admit.
So I turned and stepped away.
I reached the apothecary doors and pushed them open.
"Daevir?!" Catherine called after me.
I did not stop.
I stepped out and shut the door behind me.
The click echoed in the corridor like a verdict.
Only one thought roamed freely in my mind now, circling like a vulture.
That child has a pup.
My jaw clenched.
A werewolf.
And it is my fault.