Chapter 22 The Emperor is really pissed.
Daevir POV
Where am I?
I had no idea. Yet, it felt like I had been here numerous times. Like I was having a memory that isn't mine.
The air tasted metallic. The moon hung too low, swollen and red, like an omen in the sky. Every branch looked like a claw. Every shadow crouched like something waiting to strike.
And the wind whispered my name.
Daevir…
I turned slowly.
The forest held its breath.
Then he stepped out from between the blackened trunks.
Alpha Theron.
My brother.
Calling him brother felt like letting poison roll across my tongue.
He was taller, his muscles cut from stone, his eyes glowing silver with that unnatural, wolfish light. He looked different from when I last saw him. The time I defeated him.
Yet, his presence bent the forest around him. Shadows bowed. Trees leaned away. Even the night fled his body heat.
He smiled.
An eerie, twisted smile.
“Little Prince,” he murmured, his voice a ripple of thunder. “Still running?”
“I’m not running.”
“You’ve run all your life.” Theron took one step forward. The ground cracked under his foot. “From the truth. From power. From blood.”
“We are not the same.” Something cracked in my voice. I had never feared anything before, but now.
He laughed, as if he sensed my fear. “You still cling to that fantasy?”
He reached into the darkness behind him. Pulled something out.
A mirror.
Old, cracked. Edged in jagged silver.
And he held it out to me.
“See for yourself.” He shoved the mirror in front of my face.
The reflection…
It was not mine.
Not human.
Bloodshot ember eyes. Fangs. A beast’s shadow crouched beneath my skin, waiting to break free and consume me. A monster with my face.
I choked on my breath.
Theron leaned close, his breath hot against my ear.
“You are me,” he hissed. “You are the other half of this curse. It sleeps inside you. It’s waking. You feel it, don’t you?”
My body shook.
My pulse stuttered. “Stop.”
“You’re no prince,” he said. “You’re no human. You’re no better than me.” His fangs glinted. “You’re my brother. And we are the same.”
“No!”
“THE. SAME.”
His voice crashed around me like a roar—
And I snapped awake with a strangled gasp.
I bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat, my lungs clawing for air. The room spun. The moonlight pouring through my window felt too bright, too sharp. My heart raced so violently it hurt.
My hands trembled.
“Damn it…” I whispered, pressing a shaking hand to my forehead.
These repeated dreams. I can't do this anymore.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I have to find a cure. Something. Anything. There had to be a way to stop this… this werewolf corruption from taking root in my blood. I was half human. My father was human. I wasn’t supposed to feel the pull of the moon like this. I wasn’t supposed to fear losing myself.
Not like Theron.
Not like the monster he is.
My eyes caught something in the dark, and my pulse slowed.
It glinted on my bedside table.
Amarien's charm.
The Alpachipa rose.
She must have gotten the guards to return it to my chambers.
I swallowed hard and picked it up.
A warmth spread through my palm.
A warmth that wasn’t the charm but the thought of her.
Her voice whispering my name as if it mattered.
Her fingers in my hair.
Her arms were around me, holding me like I wasn’t dangerous.
Like I wasn’t cursed.
Like I wasn’t a monster waiting to happen.
My breath caught painfully.
Gods… Amarien.
I want her.
Her body…yes!
Her scent set my blood burning. I struggled to keep control around her.
But I want her beyond that. I want everything. Her gentleness. Her bravery. Her innocence. The way she saw light where everyone else saw rot.
The way she hugged me.
The way I almost kissed her.
The way my soul stopped shaking the moment she touched me.
I lay back against the pillows, holding her charm above me, letting the faint glow spill over my face.
“Amarien…” I whispered.
How had I lived before knowing her?
Before wanting her?
Before craving her scent like a starving man?
I closed my eyes, imagining her lying beside me, whispering comfort into my neck, tracing circles into my back as she did earlier. I imagine waking up with her there. I imagine her soft lips brushing my cheek, her warmth pressed into my side, her fingers tangled in mine.
And then guilt clenched in my chest so sharply I gasped.
She was my father’s concubine.
One wrong move, one touch too long, one kiss stolen in the wrong hallway, and the emperor would have her executed.
I couldn’t risk that.
I would not put her head on a block because of my hunger.
But gods help me…
I want her.
I want her so badly that it makes my bones ache.
My hand closed tightly around the charm, and I pressed it to my lips, breathing in the faint scent of her skin lingering on the petals.
A knock on the door resonated through the room.
“Come in,” I said as I rolled the petal in my hand, savouring its scent.
It was Zephyr.
"Your highness," he bowed. "I came as soon as I heard you were ill. How are you now?"
“Much better, Zephyr.”
Zephyr lifted his head, his eyes matching mine. “I'm here for other reasons too, your highness.”
Zephyr was unusually serious today. That’s odd.
What's going on?
“The emperor is ready to take precedence over Basgrid’s case. He has invited you to the imperial council hall, where you will oversee his judgment.”
"That's fine. Basgrid just needs a few years in jail to learn his lesson."
“I'm afraid that's not up to you to say, Your Highness.”
My gaze swept back to Zephyr. “What do you mean?”
“Your father, the emperor himself, will be the one to preside over this case. He will be the one making Basgrid’s judgment himself.”
“I don't understand. Isn't the emperor ill and incapable of making decisions now?”
Zephyr shook his head. "Your father's doctors found strange red moon blood in his goblet. This poison keeps a man perpetually ill. Someone has been poisoning your father for days."
My eyes widened. But I quickly took it off Zephyr.
I couldn't let my emotions show. Not when it's me doing the poisoning.
“Thankfully, the doctors have found a cure, and your father has never been healthier than he is now. He is not just healthy, he is hungry to hunt down the man who poisoned his drink.”