Chapter 61

Chapter 61
Calista was limp in Emilia’s arms, her skin clammy with blood and her breathing dangerously shallow. She weighed almost nothing, and yet, Emilia could feel the weight of the choice she was making pressing into her chest like iron.

Every step back to the Manor felt like a rebellion.

By the time she arrived at the front gates, Seraphine was already waiting, blood still drying in streaks across her jaw. Her eyes locked on the unconscious figure Emilia carried and lit up like wildfire.

“No.”

That was all she said at first, sharp and cutting.

Behind her, Luca stiffened. Vivienne stepped forward, confusion chasing across her features. Even Cyrus, arms crossed and brooding near the broken stone steps, narrowed his eyes with a chilling calm.

Emilia said nothing. She just kept walking.

“You’re not bringing her in here,” Seraphine snapped, moving to block the doorway. “Absolutely not. Over my dead—”

“She’s injured,” Emilia cut in quietly.

“She’s Calista,” Seraphine growled. “Do you remember what she did to us? What she did to me?”

“I remember.”

“And you're still bringing her home like a wounded dove?”

Emilia adjusted her grip on Calista and stopped just before Seraphine. “She’s not a threat right now.”

“Don’t,” Seraphine hissed. “Don’t pretend this is mercy. You’re not obligated to be the bigger person every damn time, Emilia. She would’ve let me die.”

“She didn’t.”

“She almost did!”

Cyrus stepped forward then, his voice low and dry. “This is unwise. You should let her die out there.”

His words were colder than the wind. Even Seraphine blinked at how brutally he said it.

“She’s still part of the bloodline,” Emilia said.

“That doesn’t mean she should stay here,” Cyrus replied, his expression unreadable.

Vivienne stared hard at the unconscious Calista in Emilia’s arms, then back at her. “She’s really hurt.”

“She’s fading fast,” Emilia admitted.

Luca looked between them all, jaw tight. “You still haven’t told us why you'rebringing here and not to the dungeon.”

Emilia hesitated.

Then, quietly: “She’s pregnant.”

Silence snapped over the courtyard.

Vivienne’s brows shot up. Seraphine’s jaw literally dropped. Luca looked like someone had slapped him with a tree branch.

“She’s what?” Seraphine shrieked.

“Pregnant,” Emilia repeated. “That’s why she’s coming in.”

“Okay,” Seraphine threw her hands up. “Well, now I hate this even more. What is this, a redemption arc with a maternity twist?”

Vivienne’s voice was lower, more uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“She told me herself,” Emilia replied.

“And you believed her?” Luca asked, frowning deeply.

“I did.”

“That’s insane,” Seraphine hissed. “What if she’s lying to manipulate you? What if this is some sick backup plan?”

“She was bleeding. Half-conscious. She wasn’t acting. I know when someone’s bluffing.”

“You think you know,” Cyrus said flatly.

“She stays,” Emilia said. “Whether you like it or not.”

Vivienne looked like she wanted to protest again, but stopped. Seraphine glared daggers but didn’t move. Luca ran a hand through his hair like he was on the verge of shouting. Cyrus turned his back and walked away.

But no one stopped her.



Vivienne cleaned out a small chamber on the west wing — far from everyone, behind two locked doors and three sets of enchanted barriers. Emilia laid Calista on the bed carefully, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead before standing back.

The guards were posted.

And Seraphine?

“She doesn’t get near her room,” Emilia told them.

“Are you serious?” Seraphine asked from behind.

“I am. Until I figure out what’s true and what’s not, no one harms Calista.”

“You’re letting the devil nap under our roof with a blanket,” Seraphine muttered. “You better hope she doesn’t eat us all in our sleep.”

“I’ll take the risk,” Emilia said with a shrug. “Besides, I’ve got you to kick down her door if needed.”

Seraphine scowled and folded her arms, glaring. “I’m not going to forget this.”

“I know.”

Vivienne passed by, rubbing her forehead and muttering, “Gods, the drama in this house could power a kingdom.”

Cyrus didn’t speak. He just leaned against the far wall and watched silently, a coldness in his eyes that Emilia had seen when they first met had returned. Why wasn't he curious about Calista’s state.

She met his gaze but he looked away and transformed.



That night, Emilia stood by the west balcony alone, her thoughts tangled in loops. Jet stood on her shoulder quietly. She hadn’t been tending to him since she was too occupied with the war and now the mastermind behind the wntire war was now lying under her roof.

She thought of Calista’s confession, of the unborn child now nestled in the womb of the woman who had nearly brought their world to ruin.

And then she thought of herself.

Of her own secret.

Her hand drifted down, fingers pressing gently against her lower stomach.

The wind picked up.

Did Cyrus know Calista was pregnant?
The thought came again.
Does he suspect? Does he care?

She didn’t have the answer.

Not yet.

But she knew something had changed. In Calista. In herself. In everything.

A sudden flutter of wings made her step back.

She looked up sharply.

Vultures.

They circled above the Manor like stormclouds with claws.

Silent. Ominous.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.

She just whispered into the wind:
“Your queen is not dead yet.”

Then she turned her back on the sky and walked into the Manor.