Chapter 113 113
Amarien's POV
"But that can't be," I whispered. The words fell from my lips weakly.
My mind rejected it outright.
Darian, human Darian. The emperor who walked like a man, spoke like a man, bled like a man. Who, started the war against the werewolves and made humanity hate the werewolves.
I sat beside him at banquets. Endured his moods, his hungers, his gaze that lingered too long. A man, I had told myself. A cruel one, perhaps, but human all the same.
Theron gave a low, rumbling laugh.
It was the sound of someone amused by a child finally noticing the elephant in a room.
"How," he asked, tilting his head slightly, "have you not seen the signs? With all your… experience with him."
His eyes dragged meaningfully over my face, and heat pricked my skin.
The memory of things I had once ignored pricked my skin.
I swallowed.
"What signs?" I demanded, though my voice lacked its usual bite.
Theron stepped closer, slow as a predator who knew his prey could not outrun the truth.
"Why did he always speak of your scent?" he asked. "Why did he know where you had been without anyone telling him? Why did he notice your fear before you voiced it… Your lies before you finished them?"
My heart thudded.
Memories stirred.
Darian's voice murmured, You smell different today. That day at the cabin. Despite being sick be rode all the way down for me, drawn by my scent.
And the way his eyes sometimes looked too sharp, too aware in the dark.
At the time, I had called it paranoia. Control. The instincts of a tyrant.
Not this. Never this!
"Well, now you know how Daevir and I became werewolves," Theron continued, his tone almost conversational, like he was recounting a bedtime tale.
He stepped, his eyes beaming with sincerity. "It wasn't because of the sins of Annah, my mother… but because of the blood of my father."
My breath hitched.
I stared at him. “No… no, that…”
But denial felt thin now.
It made sense now. Theron was a werewolves but Daevir couldn't possibly be one if they didn't share the same mother. It all had to come from Darian.
That's why he has been very mysterious even to his death. Even in his death, he knew, and Daevir were today. His weird, ridiculous claims about me controlling three Alphas. It was Him, Daevir, and Theron!
Theron's gaze did not waver. He looked certain. Solid. Like a mountain that would not move, no matter how hard I pushed.
I felt something inside me shift, like the ground of my life rearranging itself beneath my feet.
His lips curved slightly, not into a smirk, but into something darker, satisfaction, perhaps, at finally revealing a long-guarded truth.
"Story time," he sings in a low growl.
I hated how my body stilled to listen.
"The history you were told," he began, his voice reverberating through the room, "about Emperor Darian and the werewolf princess… is a pretty lie crafted for fragile ears."
My fingers curled at my sides.
"The tale says a human emperor fell in love with a werewolf princess during the thousand-year war. That their forbidden love bridged two worlds." He scoffed softly. "Romantic. Memorable. And completely false."
A chill crept along my arms.
"The truth," he said, "is far less poetic."
He walked past me slowly as he spoke, like a narrator pacing a stage, forcing me to turn slightly to keep him in view.
"During the thousand-year war, when wolves and humans slaughtered each other in the name of survival, a rogue werewolf, rejected by his own pack, fled."
I imagined it unwillingly: a wolf alone, wounded by his own kind.
"He was cast out," Theron continued. "No pack. No protection. No name worth keeping. To wolves, he was filth. And to survive, he did the unthinkable."
Theron's gaze flicked to mine.
"He went to the humans."
My throat tightened.
"He learned their tongue. Their customs. Their weaknesses. And he realized something… humans were easier to rule than wolves. Easier to deceive. Easier to make adore you."
The palace suddenly felt colder.
"He found his way into the human kingdom. Then into the palace. Then, into power."
"Because his own kind had treated him like a curse," Theron said, "he had no issue fighting against wolves, betraying their movements, weakening their forces, so long as he remained loved and worshipped by humans."
Darian had loved admiration. Needed it like breath.
"But there was one problem," Theron went on. "A wolf cannot sit long among sheep without being noticed."
My pulse quickened.
"To hide what he was, a veil was needed. A powerful one. Old magic. Forbidden magic."
Theron's voice lowered slightly.
"A sacrifice."
The word made my stomach knot.
"A ritual," he said, "that could dull the wolf and let him walk as human. Not fully human, but human enough. His scent muted. His instincts were buried and his power chained."
I thought of Darian's temper, how it sometimes flared too wildly, then vanished just as fast, like something struggling under the surface. He was like a wild beast on the loose at times.
"He chose the ritual," Theron said.
My lips parted, but no sound came.
"That rogue," Theron finished calmly, "was Emperor Darian."
The name struck like a bell in my head.
Darian.
My husband.
My captor.
The father of the empire that ruined me.
A werewolf.
Suddenly, Daevir's strength, his instincts, his presence made sense in a way that hurt.
Everything was connected.
My knees felt weak.
If Darian had been a wolf…
Then the royal line…
Then Daevir…
My mind reeled.
The past rearranged itself violently.
All this time, I had thought myself a pawn between humans and wolves.
But I had been standing in the house of wolves all along.
My lips trembled.
The room felt too small for the truth pressing in on me.
“This… this can’t…” I tried again, but the words collapsed.
Theron watched me, silent now, letting the weight settle.
It was never a coincidence.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, my heart slamming painfully against my ribs as the final piece fell into place.
It was Darian all along.
It was him!
A wolf in a crown.
The air left my lungs in a sharp, broken inhale.
I gasped.