Chapter 84 They took the last bloodline

Chapter 84 They took the last bloodline
The moment Bate’s cruel laughter faded into the heavy silence of the chamber, a different kind of tension began to spread through the air, one that felt sharp and poisonous, because betrayal was already crawling out from the shadows, searching for its chance to reveal itself.

The second-in-command, a man who had stood beside King Hunter for years, who had sworn loyalty under sacred oath and had been trusted with the kingdom’s deepest secrets, took a slow step forward, his expression no longer masked by respect or false humility, but instead twisted with something dark and long-suppressed.

He turned his back on King Hunter.

“I have followed you long enough,” he said coldly, his voice echoing through the hall. “And I will not pretend anymore. I never wanted you as my king. You are too soft. Too sentimental. A ruler who is willing to hand over his crown without a fight does not deserve to sit on a throne.”

Gasps rippled through the gathered nobles and ministers, while King Hunter stared at the man as though he were looking at a stranger, because in that moment, he realized that the rot inside his court had been far worse than he had ever imagined.

The second-in-command lifted his chin proudly and turned toward the other ministers. “Those who are tired of weak leadership, those who want power, stability, and a ruler who does not crumble at the first sign of trouble, step forward.”

For a moment, no one moved.

Then one minister hesitantly took a step.

Another followed.

Then another.

Their faces were filled with fear, greed, and desperation, but also with something else ambition, because in chaos, opportunities were born, and they were willing to grasp at anything that promised survival or advantage.

“We refuse to kneel to a king who throws away his throne,” one of them said. “We need a strong hand, not a bleeding heart.”

Each word felt like a blade driving deeper into King Hunter’s chest, but he remained standing, silent, refusing to show them how deeply they had wounded him.

The second-in-command smiled in satisfaction, then turned sharply toward his daughter.

“Lysette,” he called.

Lysette stiffened where she stood near the back of the room, her hands slowly curling into fists as every pair of eyes turned toward her.

“Come here,” her father ordered. “Stand with me.”

Lysette lowered her gaze to the floor, shame burning through her chest, because although she had always craved status, admiration, and power, she had never imagined the moment would come when she would have to publicly choose sides in a room soaked with betrayal.

For a brief second, she glanced toward Seraphina.

Their eyes met.

Seraphina’s expression was a mixture of hurt, disbelief, and quiet fury.

Lysette swallowed.

Then she walked.

She did not hesitate.

She crossed the space between them and stopped beside her father, placing herself firmly on the side of treachery.

A bitter taste filled Seraphina’s mouth.

The second-in-command placed a hand on Lysette’s shoulder possessively and looked toward Bate with a proud smile. “My daughter will marry your son, Caelum. Together, they will rule with you, and our bloodlines will become the most powerful force this kingdom has ever seen.”

Caelum’s lips curved slowly into a satisfied grin.

Bate nodded, clearly pleased.

“An excellent arrangement,” Bate said smoothly.

Queen Juniper felt sick.

Everything was unraveling too fast.

Bate then reached into the folds of his dark cloak and pulled out a small crystal vial filled with shimmering silver liquid.

“This,” he said, holding it up for everyone to see, “is the antidote to what is killing your son.”

Hope exploded through the room like a sudden flame.

Seraphina stood abruptly.

Elara’s breath caught.

King Hunter took an involuntary step forward.

Bate’s smile widened.

“But,” he continued, “I will not hand it over so easily. In exchange, Queen Juniper will become my wife.”

The room erupted.

Queen Juniper stared at him in disbelief.

“You dare—” she began, but her voice shook with rage.

Bate stepped closer. “If you want your son to live, you will accept.”

Silence fell again.

Queen Juniper looked at Aurelius’s unconscious body.

Her lips trembled.

Then she straightened.

“I agree,” she said.

Everyone froze.

Even Bate looked momentarily stunned.

Queen Juniper walked toward him slowly, her face pale but determined.

“I will stand by your side,” she said evenly.

The second-in-command burst into mocking laughter.

“Look at that, Hunter,” he sneered. “Even your own queen has chosen a stronger man. Without her behind you, you are nothing.”

King Hunter closed his eyes.

Not in defeat.

But in pain.

Bate lifted one hand. “Guards, arrest the former king.”

Several guards hesitated.

Then they looked at the crown resting on the throne.

Bate now claimed it.

Slowly, they stepped forward.

Before any of them could reach King Hunter, a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Touch him and stop breathing forever.”

The temperature in the room dropped.

All heads snapped toward the entrance.

Varian stood there.

One hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

Eyes cold.

Expression unreadable.

He walked inside as though he owned the palace.

Bate narrowed his eyes. “Who is this?”

Caelum stepped forward eagerly. “Just a man who thinks he matters. I’ll handle him.”

Caelum drew his sword, dark energy flickering along the blade as he prepared to charge.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

The voice did not come from Varian.

It came from behind everyone.

Slow.

Calm.

Steady.

They turned.

Aurelius had stood up from where he lay and was walking toward them.

On his feet.

Alive.

Not pale.

Not weak.

Not dying.

Gasps filled the hall.

Seraphina felt her knees give way as tears flooded her eyes.

Elara clutched her chest.

Bate’s smile vanished.

Caelum froze.

Varian smirked.

Aurelius’s eyes burned with quiet fury.

“You all talk too much,” he said calmly.

.
.
.
.
\---

Caelum staggered backward as if the very sight of Aurelius standing on his own two feet had ripped the ground out from beneath him, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword not because he was preparing to attack, but because his legs were beginning to fail him, and disbelief flooded every inch of his face as his eyes darted from Aurelius’s steady posture to the calm expression resting on his features.

“You are standing on your feet?” Caelum demanded hoarsely, his voice cracking despite his attempt to sound confident, his gaze scanning Aurelius from head to toe as though expecting the illusion to shatter at any second. “How is this even possible?”

Aurelius tilted his head slightly, a slow, knowing smile touching his lips, not arrogant but quiet and firm, the kind of smile that came from someone who had already won long before his enemy realized the game had begun.

“Did you honestly believe I would accept something from a complete stranger and just eat it without a single doubt in my mind?” Aurelius asked calmly, his voice carrying through the throne room with a steadiness that made several ministers shift uncomfortably. “From the very first moment I saw you, I knew something about you was wrong, and when you started following me around the palace as if you owned the place, my father noticed it too and told me he felt the same strange familiarity about you, as though he had seen your face somewhere in the darkest pages of history.”

Aurelius took a slow step forward, his boots echoing against the marble floor, his eyes never leaving Caelum’s face.

“So we decided to test you,” he continued. “We ordered a group of guards to secretly follow you everywhere you went without you knowing, and when they reported that you were meeting with someone in the shadows and whispering about plans you clearly didn’t want anyone to hear, we realized you were not here by accident, which was why we chose to play along and pretend that your trap had worked, because sometimes the best way to expose a snake is to let it believe it has already bitten its prey.”

Murmurs rippled through the throne room, fear and shock weaving together like tangled threads, while Caelum’s face drained of color so quickly it looked as though every drop of blood had abandoned him.

The second-in-command stepped forward stiffly, his jaw clenched as he tried to grasp at any remaining hope.

“But the symptoms,” he said tightly. “You were pale, weak, barely able to stand, and you looked like you were dying; no one can fake something like that.”

Queen Juniper let out a soft, amused laugh as she stepped closer, the sound sharp and dangerous in its elegance, her eyes glittering with satisfaction as she folded her arms across her chest.

“Of course he couldn’t fake it,” she said smoothly. “That is why I had a potion specially made to temporarily mimic the effects of a deadly poison, allowing him to appear genuinely sick, weak, and on the brink of death, all so we could draw the real monster into the open.”

Bate shook his head slowly, his lips parting as though the words refused to leave his mouth.

“That is impossible,” he growled. “There is no one powerful enough to create such a potion.”

Queen Juniper’s smile widened.

“Oh, but there is,” she replied. “Azania, the only true witch left in this realm, created it for me, because she is not only an ally of this kingdom, she is also my closest friend.”

Gasps echoed around the chamber, while Caelum’s breathing became erratic.

“And Prince Varian helped me obtain the potion from his mother,” Aurelius added, turning his head slightly toward Varian with a faint smile.

Seraphina and Elara both snapped their gazes toward Varian at the same time, shock written all over their faces, but Varian remained completely unreadable, his arms crossed and his expression as cold and distant as ever, as though none of this surprised him in the slightest.

Bate clenched his fists, rage twisting his features.

“But the crown was already mine,” he snapped. “You cannot change that.”

King Hunter’s lips curved into a sharp smile.

“You never wore it,” he said calmly.

Bate’s eyes widened in realization, and without thinking, he spun around and sprinted toward the throne, desperation driving every step, but King Hunter was faster, and by the time Bate reached the dais, Hunter had already lifted the crown and placed it back upon his head where it belonged.

Before Bate could react, Queen Juniper launched herself forward and delivered a powerful kick straight into his face, sending him crashing onto the floor with a sickening thud as blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

“I cannot believe you actually thought I would ever want anything to do with you,” Queen Juniper snapped furiously as she loomed over him. “The throne belonged to my father, I was the rightful heiress, and the man I chose to marry became king beside me, so tell me, in what twisted version of reality does that make it your throne?”

Guards surged forward, restraining Bate, Caelum, and the ministers who had supported them, binding their hands with enchanted chains that glowed faintly as they tightened.

Caelum turned desperately toward Bate, his eyes glossy with confusion and betrayal.

“You told me you were king before the fairies stole your throne,” Caelum said shakily. “Is she lying?”

Bate laughed bitterly.

“You are not my son,” he spat. “I stole you from someone else, so stop calling me father; you are weak, useless, and I regret ever keeping you.”

The words struck Caelum like a blade.

His knees buckled.

Tears filled his eyes.

The second-in-command and the ministers who had joined him dropped to their knees, begging and pleading, but King Hunter did not respond, his silence heavier than any scream.

“I will never give up this throne easily,” King Hunter declared, his voice booming through the hall. “Not now. Not ever. I am not weak.”

Every person in the chamber bowed.

Aurelius lifted his gaze and met Seraphina’s eyes across the room, and something unspoken passed between them, something heavy and complicated, before she suddenly turned and ran out of the throne room, unable to hold herself together any longer.

Elara shot Varian with an accusing glare and immediately chased after Seraphina.

“I think they might be angry at us,” Aurelius said lightly as he turned to Varian.

Varian did not answer.

Instead, Aurelius slung an arm around Varian’s shoulders with a grin.

“What are you doing?” Varian snapped. “Get off me.”

“No,” Aurelius said cheerfully. “We are friends now, and you helped save my life, so I love you.”

Varian scoffed.
—

Seraphina sat quietly on the edge of the large bed inside the room that had been given to her within the palace walls, her hands resting limply in her lap as she stared at nothing in particular, her mind replaying everything that had happened over and over again as though her thoughts were determined to punish her for every tear she had shed, every prayer she had whispered, and every moment of fear she had allowed to consume her.

She had truly believed Aurelius was dying.

She had truly believed she was going to lose him.

And now that she knew it had all been an act, carefully planned and perfectly executed, embarrassment burned so deeply inside her chest that she wished the floor would open and swallow her whole, because the way she had cried, the way she had clung to his bedside, and the way her heart had nearly shattered at the thought of never seeing him again made her feel painfully exposed.

Stupid.

That was the word echoing in her mind.

Stupid for caring so much.

Stupid for letting her heart betray her.

Stupid for forgetting, even for a moment, that a prince like Aurelius lived in a world full of secrets and schemes.

She lay back slowly, turning onto her side and pulling the blanket up to her shoulders, closing her eyes tightly as though sleep might rescue her from her thoughts, even though she knew she was far too restless to actually drift off.

A soft knock sounded against the door.

Her heart jumped instantly.

Before she could stop herself, she recognized his presence even before he spoke, because something about Aurelius always felt different to her, always familiar in a way she could not explain.

“Seraphina?” Aurelius called gently from the other side of the door.

She did not answer.

Instead, she forced her breathing to slow and pretended to be asleep, hoping that if she stayed silent long enough, he would simply leave and spare her the embarrassment of facing him.

The door opened quietly.

Footsteps approached.

She felt the mattress dip slightly as someone sat beside her, and even with her eyes closed, she knew exactly who it was.

Aurelius studied her face for a long moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he took in the way her lashes rested against her cheeks and how stiff her body looked beneath the blanket.

“I know you are not sleeping,” he murmured, leaning closer, his voice warm and teasing, “because I can feel your breath changing.”

Seraphina’s eyes flew open.

Before he could react, she shoved him lightly in the chest.

“Leave me alone,” she snapped, turning her face toward the wall so she would not have to look at him.

Aurelius blinked, clearly caught off guard, but he quickly recovered and scooted closer instead of retreating.

“I am sorry, okay?” he said softly. “I had to pretend. Everything depended on it. Please try to understand.”

She scoffed quietly.

“If you had told me, none of this would have happened,” she said bitterly. “I would not have cried like an idiot in front of everyone.”

Aurelius hesitated, then spoke in a lower, more sincere tone.

“If I had told you, you would not have reacted the way you did,” he said. “And if you had not reacted that way, I would never have known how much you truly care about me.”

Seraphina felt heat rush to her face.

She refused to turn around.

“That does not mean I care,” she muttered weakly.

Aurelius smiled to himself.

“So, am I forgiven now?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“I am still thinking about it,” she replied stubbornly.

UpBefore she could say anything else, she felt his lips brush lightly against the side of her neck.

A sharp gasp escaped her before she could stop it.

Her body betrayed her instantly.

“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

“I am apologizing properly,” Aurelius whispered. “For making you sad. For scaring you. For being a jerk.”

He pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek, then another at the corner of her lips, lingering just long enough to make her heart stumble.

Seraphina turned her face toward him without realizing she was doing it.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The world seemed to shrink until it was only the two of them.

Aurelius leaned in slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted.

She did not.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened as weeks of unspoken feelings poured into that single moment, Seraphina’s fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though she was afraid he might disappear again.

Outside the door, Lysette stood frozen.

She had come looking for Aurelius and saw him entering the room.

Instead, she found herself witnessing something she was never meant to see.

Through the slightly open door, she saw the way Seraphina leaned into him.

The way Aurelius held her like she mattered.

The way they kissed like nothing else existed.

Her chest tightened painfully.

She stepped back slowly.

As she turned down the hallway, she noticed maids and guards whispering to one another, their eyes drifting toward her with curiosity, judgment, and quiet scorn.

For the first time, Lysette felt the full weight of her choices.

She had listened to her father.

She had believed lies.

She had tried to claim something that was never hers.

And now, all she felt was shame.

Without saying a word, she walked away.
\---
Varian walk through the corridor, the only thing occupying his mind was the way Elara had looked at him before turning away, the sharp mix of anger, hurt, and something far more dangerous in her eyes, and he followed the faint pull he felt in his chest until it led him to the abandoned garden behind the eastern wing, where moonlight spilled softly across stone and water and shadows clung to the edges of broken statues.

Elara stood near the old fountain with her back to him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though she were trying to hold in everything she refused to let spill, her shoulders stiff, her posture screaming that she knew he was there even though she did not turn around.

“You didn’t tell me,” she said quietly, but the softness in her voice did nothing to hide the ache beneath it.

Varian stopped a few steps behind her, close enough to feel the heat of her body, close enough to hear the uneven rhythm of her breathing.

“It had to stay hidden,” he replied, his tone low, controlled, careful.

Elara let out a shaky breath that sounded almost like a laugh, though there was no humor in it.
“Hidden from enemies, I understand,” she said slowly, finally turning to face him, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Hidden from me… I don’t.”

Varian took another step closer, then another, until the space between them felt fragile, breakable, like one wrong movement could shatter everything.

“If you had known, you would have looked at me differently,” he said. “You would have looked at Aurelius differently. And Caelum would have seen it.”

“So I had to suffer for your strategy?” she asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound steady.

Varian’s jaw tightened.

“I watched you cry,” he said quietly. “I watched you believe everything was falling apart. And I did nothing. Do not think for a moment that it cost me nothing.”

Elara’s breath caught, and before she could stop herself, a single tear slid down her cheek.

Varian reached up without thinking, his thumb brushing slowly along the damp trail, lingering against her skin as though committing the feel of it to memory.

“I hate you sometimes,” she whispered.

His lips curved faintly.
“You don’t.”

Her gaze flicked up to his, and the truth in that small statement unsettled her more than any argument could have.

“I was terrified,” she admitted. “I thought I was going to lose him. I thought everything was spiraling and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Varian’s hand slid from her cheek to her jaw, his fingers warm, steady, anchoring.

“You weren’t powerless,” he said. “You were fighting in the only way you could. That matters.”

Elara swallowed hard.

“And you still saved him,” she said softly. “Even when you didn’t have to.”

“I had to,” Varian replied.

“Why?” she asked.

His gaze darkened, not with anger, but with something deeper, heavier.

“Because he matters to you.”

Her heart stumbled painfully at that.

“And you saved me,” she added, quieter now.

Varian’s thumb brushed over her lower lip, a slow, unconscious movement that made her breath hitch.

“I will always save you,” he said.

Elara’s hands rose hesitantly, pressing against his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath his clothes, the steady heartbeat beneath her palms, and the realization that he was real, that he was here, that he had chosen to stand between her and the world, sent a strange rush through her veins.

“I don’t want to be kept in the dark anymore,” she murmured. “I don’t want to be protected from everything. I want to stand beside you, not behind you.”

Varian lowered his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“If you stand beside me,” he said, “you will see things you cannot unsee.”

Elara closed her eyes briefly.

“I already have.”

Varian’s arms slid around her waist, drawing her closer until her body fit against his as though it had always belonged there, while Elara’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clutching him like she was afraid he might disappear if she let go.

Neither of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.

The silence pulsed with everything they were too afraid to name.

Elara tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw by accident.

Or maybe not.

Varian inhaled sharply.

His grip tightened.

Their faces were impossibly close now, close enough that a single movement would close the distance completely.

“Varian…” she whispered.

He dipped his head, stopping just short of her mouth, his lips hovering there, teasing, testing, asking a question he did not trust himself to voice.

Elara answered by leaning in.

Their lips met in a slow, tentative kiss that felt nothing like urgency and everything like surrender.

As if they were both afraid that too much pressure might break the fragile thing forming between them.

Varian’s hand slid up her back, spreading warmth wherever he touched, while Elara melted into him, her body relaxing for the first time since the nightmare had begun.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads remained pressed together, their breaths uneven, their hearts racing.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him, and Varian held her right back, tighter than necessary, as if he were silently promising that no matter what darkness came next, she would never face it alone again.