Chapter 62

Chapter 62
Emilia barely slept. Even with three guards posted outside Calista’s door, wards etched into the walls, and spells whispering in the dark, she still felt a knot of unease in her stomach.

It was not fear or regret. It was something else.

She stepped into the main hall just as the morning light broke through the high windows. The Manor was quieter than usual. Tense. Watching.

She met Vivienne by the war table. The maps were still there, pins marking cities, forest borders, witch outposts. But no one was touching them nonow.It was a subtle reminder of rhe war that they had just fought, they were still fighting. This time, it was an internal one.

Vivienne looked up with dark circles under her eyes. “She’s still alive?”

“Yes,” Emilia said. “Sleeping.”

“And the baby?”

“I don’t know yet.” Her voice cracked slightly.

Vivienne reached for a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. “Everyone’s on edge.”

“I know.”

“She tried to burn this place to the ground.”

“I know that too.”

Vivienne didn’t push her. Not the way Seraphine had. Just nodded slowly, like she was trying to understand a kind of grief that hadn’t arrived yet.

“Luca’s pacing the east wing,” she added. “I think he broke another training dummy.”

Emilia sighed. “I’ll talk to him.”

“And Cyrus?”

A pause.

“I haven’t seen him,” Emilia murmured.

Vivienne didn’t comment, but her eyes said plenty.



She found Luca by the outer gates, his knuckles raw and his shirt half torn. He was punching the air like it had said something offensive.

“Hey,” she called gently.

He turned, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m angry. And you’re the reason.”

That stung more than she expected. She turned his face to meet her eyes gently.

“Talk to me.”

Luca wiped sweat off his brow, hands on his hips. “Why are you protecting her, Emilia?”

“Because she’s not the same anymore.”

He scoffed. “Right. Just like that, the witch who betrayed you, nearly killed Seraphine, and destroyed the oath is now a fragile flower.”

“She’s carrying a child.”

“She could be faking it.”

“She’s not.”

Luca narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”

“I just do.”

His mouth opened, then closed. He was fighting something behind those eyes — doubt, maybe. Or fear.

“You’re keeping something else from me,” he said quietly.

Emilia’s heart beat faster. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer. “There’s something in your eyes. A weight. I’ve seen it before. You’re not just worried about her, are you?”

“I can’t—” she began.

“You can,” he said. “But you won’t.”

She lowered her gaze. “I’m fine Luca"

Luca didn’t press. He just stepped back and said, “When you’re ready… I’ll be here.”

And then he walked away.



Absolutely—here’s a regenerated version of that scene with sharper, more emotionally charged dialogue and clear tension between Calista and Emilia:

\---

Later that afternoon, Emilia stepped into the bedchamber very quietly.

The air was still very heavy.

Calista lay on the bed, pale and worn, wrapped in fresh bandages. Her skin was almost translucent, lips cracked, her dark hair clinging to her damp temples.

The guards outside had obeyed her instructions—no noise, no questions. Just eyes and silence.

Emilia sat slowly beside the bed, fingers grazing the edge of the blanket.

“I should hate you,” she murmured, voice flat. “And honestly… some days, I do.”

She paused, her jaw tense.

“But even now, I can’t walk away. I don’t know why.”

She stood to leave.

“Water…” came a faint rasp.

Emilia froze.

She turned back. Calista’s eyes were slitted open, dry and glassy but awake.

Without a word, Emilia poured cool water into a cup and brought it to her lips. Calista drank slowly, every movement strained. She winced as she pulled back.

Then, barely above a whisper: “Why the hell did you bring me back here?”

“You were dying.”

“You should’ve let me.”

“You don't get to decide your fate after all you've done, Calista”

Calista turned her head toward her and smiled weakly. “You are really something Emilia. At least you're not like my sister. Oh wait. Seraphine didn’t kill me yet… why?”

“Because I locked her out,” Emilia replied.

Calista gave a bitter, breathless laugh. “You? Protecting me? That makes absolutely no sense. I'd rather be back in my palace”

Emilia’s voice didn’t waver. “I didn’t say it made sense.”

Calista tried to shift but winced. “I don’t belong here, Emilia. I know that. I feel it in the walls.”

“You’re still alive,” Emilia said.

“Barely.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

Then, Calista turned her head just enough to look at her.

“I need you to promise me something.”

Emilia raised an eyebrow.

Calista swallowed hard. “Swear you won’t tell anyone… about the baby. About who the father is.”

Emilia’s expression tightened.

“I can’t make that promise,” she said quietly.

Calista blinked, stunned by the honesty. “Why not?”

“Because the truth doesn’t stay buried for long. And if it comes out… I won’t be the one choking on the lie.”

Calista looked away, jaw clenching.

Then she whispered, bitterly: “If Seraphine comes for me again… don’t stop her.”

Emilia stepped back from the bed, her eyes fixed coldly on Calista. “If she comes, she’ll have to go through me again. And if that happens… you better hope you're worth all this trouble.”

She turned and walked to the door.

Behind her, Calista let out a hoarse breath. “You’re not doing this for me… you’re doing it for the child.”

Emilia paused at the doorway, one hand on the handle.

“I’m doing it for everyone that still believes we can end this without killing each other,” she said, and then walked out, leaving Calista alone with the quiet.



That night, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.

Emilia stood on the balcony again, wrapped in a shawl, her gaze fixed on the horizon. A storm was coming — she could feel it in her bones.

She placed a hand on her stomach.

Two secrets now rested inside Valois Manor. One unconscious. One unborn.

And both could change everything.

Behind her, a raven landed on the railing with a loud clack of its claws. It tilted its head at her, eyes like cold glass.

She watched it silently.

Then whispered, “What would you do, Mother?”

The bird didn’t answer.

But its wings stretched wide before it vanished into the sky.