Chapter 112 112
Amarien's POV
The mug missed one of the maidens by an inch. It shattered against the wall with a sharp crack, making most of them scatter across the room.
I was the one who threw it.
My chest heaved, my fingers trembling, my vision blurred by the heat of tears I refused to let fall.
"My lady, please!" one of the maids cried, rushing forward but not daring to come too close. "You'll hurt yourself."
"Hurt myself?" I laughed, a brittle, broken sound. "Do you think there's anything left in me to hurt?"
Another maid clasped her hands together, tears flowing down her face. "Please calm down. You must remain still…"
"Still?!" I snapped, whirling on them. "I was still when they ripped my child from my womb? I was still when I bled and screamed, and no one brought my baby back?"
They buried their heads in shame as if my words were blows.
Why does the room feel small? Like the walls pressing in. Everything was suffocating.
But it didn't weaken me. It only fueled my anger. I wanted more things destroyed. I wanted to see it shatter like this damned world!
My gaze fell on another mug sitting harmlessly on the table.
I grabbed it and hurled it across the room.
It exploded against the stone.
"Catherine has a child, too!" I screamed, my voice tearing out of me. "A living, breathing child. While mine…"
My throat closed.
While mine was gone. Stolen. Buried somewhere I couldn't reach…
I reached for whatever my hands could find: cloth, ornaments, a small tray, and flung them away from me.
"There is no justice in this world!" I cried. "None! The cruel are rewarded, and the broken are told to endure! To be still!" My rage seethes with venom.
"My lady, please," a maid sobbed. "You mustn't…"
"I hate you all!" I shouted, pointing at them with a shaking hand. "All of you who watched him take my child. Get out! Get out of my sight!"
None of them moved.
Pity bemed in their eyes like an unshed tear. It only irritated me further.
One dared step closer. "You'll cut your hands, my lady. Please…”
I turned away from her and seized the heavy curtains by the window. With a raw cry, I yanked them down. The fabric tore free from its hooks, and the rods clattered to the floor.
The maids started crying openly now.
Their tears grated on my ears.
I ignored them.
Pain was the only thing that felt honest anymore.
My fingers found another mug on the table. I gripped it tightly, raising it, ready to watch it break like everything else in my life.
But when I drew my arm back, a hand caught my wrist mid-air.
My breath hitched.
I turned.
It was Theron.
The whole room fell still.
My breaths came out ragged, scraping my throat on their way out. My chest rose and fell like I had been running for miles.
I lifted my eyes to Theron.
"Get out of my way," I said, my voice hoarse but sharp. "You promised to kill them all…and now they are multiplying." My words trembled with a threat of an unshed tear.
I could picture Catherine's smiling face with her living child. She was happy with her living child. Mine is dead!
Theron did not immediately release my wrist. His grip was maddeningly calm against my shaking skin. His gaze flicked from my face to the shards on the floor, the torn curtains, the chaos I had made of the room.
Then he turned his head slightly toward the maids.
"Leave," he ordered.
The maids bowed quickly and hurried out, skirts swishing, slippers whispering against the floor.
Silence fell.
Now it was just him and me.
Theron's eyes lowered to my hand still caught in his. His thumb shifted slightly, and only then did I notice the sting. Small cuts lined my palm and fingers, thin lines of red where porcelain had bitten into my skin. Blood smeared faintly across my knuckles.
But it wasn't that that got his attention; it was the red scars that lined my wrist and palm. Scars that are deeper than the previous porcelain cuts. Scars that hinted at something else I could be doing on the outside.
His jaw tightened.
"Amarien," he said quietly, "what have you been up to behind my back?"
I jerked my hand free from his hold.
"None of your business," I snapped.
Before he could search my face further, I turned my back to him. I wrapped my arms around myself, as though I could shield my thoughts from those piercing blue eyes of his.
He had a way of looking at people that felt like peeling skin from bone.
I would not let him read me. He mustn't know what I've been up to.
Behind me, I heard his slow exhale.
"You'll get your revenge," he said. "Sooner than you think."
I said nothing.
Promises were cheap. My child was not.
A pause stretched between us. I could feel his gaze on my back. Theron never spoke idly. When he was quiet, it meant he was choosing which truth would hurt the most.
"But," he continued, "there's something you need to know about Daevir… and why I've been hesitant to destroy him and everything he loves."
That made me turn.
Curiosity was a treacherous hook, and it caught me before pride could stop me. I looked over my shoulder at him, eyes narrowed, heart still pounding from my outburst.
Theron's expression had shifted. The usual smirk was gone. In its place was a seriousness that made my stomach tighten.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
He took a step closer, boots crunching lightly over broken ceramic. His gaze locked onto mine, ensuring I would not look away.
"The legends you heard," he said slowly, "the stories about the royal bloodline… they are untrue."
A chill crept up my spine.
He continued, each word deliberate.
"Darian, the former emperor. Your husband. He was not the human in that union."
My brows drew together. "What?"
Theron's voice dropped, almost gentle, as if he were placing a blade between my ribs with care.
"My mother was the human," he said. "Darian had been a werewolf from the start."
The world seemed to tilt.
For a moment, I could not breathe.
My eyes widened, shock crashing through my anger like cold water over flame. Memories rearranged themselves violently in my mind: his strength, his instincts, the things I had once dismissed.
Nothing felt stable anymore.
Nothing made sense.
I stared at Theron, searching his face for a hint of mockery, a lie, a game.
There was none.
Only certainty.
I had been married to the werewolf emperor all this time. How?