Chapter 122 121
Daevir's POV
For a moment, I thought I had misheard him.
"His mother?" I said slowly, each word forced through a tightening throat. "But I don't even know who she is."
The shaman did not blink.
"I found him in a river," I continued, my voice roughening. "He was alone. No mother. No mark of origin. Nothing."
I recall that moment at the river. Ares' cry had drawn me to him. His tiny fist was clinging to life. I had pulled him from death with my own hands.
He became mine in that moment.
Now I have to find his mother?
And marry her?
How?
Besides, what sort of mother will leave her baby in the river? That's a woman who should be punished with death!
"I do not intend," I added, my tone hardening like cooling steel, "to take another wife after Catherine."
The words surprised even me with how firm they sounded. Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps exhaustion. Perhaps the simple refusal to let fate keep rearranging my life like pieces on a game board.
The shaman's gaze shifted away from me then, sliding toward Zephyr.
Something was probing in it.
"I was told," the shaman said calmly to Zephyr, "that this child was the heir to the throne."
Zephyr stiffened beside me.
For once, the old sage had no quick answer, no clever turn of phrase, no wisdom to soften the blow.
His silence was louder than any confession.
I exhaled sharply through my nose.
"Yes," I said, stepping in before Zephyr could struggle for words. "He is my heir because I chose him. Because I raised him. Because he is my son in every way that matters."
The shaman turned back to me then, and his eyes rested fully on my face.
"I see," he said.
I hated how calm he was.
Hated how small he made my authority feel without ever raising his voice.
He took a slow step closer, the wolf-hide draped over his shoulders shifting softly.
"The gods open doors to those who seek," he said. "But they do not drag men through them."
My jaw tightened.
"You must find the mother," he continued. "You must claim her properly, before the moon and before the gods. Only then will the bond awaken what sleeps in the child."
His words pressed on my skull like a headache.
"And if I refuse?" I asked quietly.
"Then you refuse the cure."
My hands curled into fists again.
How was I to find a woman who left her baby in the water? I don't even know where Ares came from; how could I possibly find his mother?
"You ask me to chase a ghost," I said. "A woman who may be dead. Or may not even want the child."
"The moon does not tie power to unwilling hearts," he replied. "She lives."
The certainty in his tone unsettled me.
She lives. Where?
Breathing the same air. Walking the same world. Unaware that the child she birthed now sat in darkness because of a curse meant for me.
A strange guilt twisted in my gut.
"For now," the shaman said, his voice lowering, "Ares will remain blind."
The finality of it struck harder than any blow.
I saw Ares again in my mind, reaching for my face, smiling at the sound of my voice, trusting a world he could no longer see.
My chest ached.
"There is no other way?" I asked the question more quietly now. Not as an emperor.
As a father.
The shaman held my gaze.
"No other way, your majesty."
Silence stretched between us.
Zephyr shifted slightly, but he did not interrupt. Perhaps he knew this was a burden I had to shoulder alone.
I felt suddenly tired.
"I did not ask for any of this," I muttered beneath my breath.
"No ruler ever does," the shaman said. Then, with the same eerie calm he had arrived with, he dipped his head in a shallow bow.
And just like that, he turned and left.
My eyes followed him, my mind a storm of thoughts I could not sort.
Find her. Marry her. Unlock power. Restore his sight.
Zephyr and I were left alone in the chamber.
My hands were shaking, and then my helpless twisted into fury.
I walked to the window and stood, staring out at the palace courtyards below, but I wasn't seeing the guards or the servants or the marble paths.
I was seeing a tower.
That tower.
And the girl in it
Blue eyes pleading with me not to leave her alone.
My jaw clenched.
"She's the one," I said.
My voice sounded distant even to my own ears.
Zephyr didn't answer immediately. I could feel his gaze on my back.
"It was Amarien," I repeated, louder this time. "I know it."
A muscle ticked in my cheek.
The thought had rooted itself so quickly that it felt like the truth.
"She did this to my child," I said, my fingers curling against the stone ledge of the window. "She's bitter because she lost hers. Now she hunts every child in the kingdom, including mine!"
Zephyr finally spoke.
"Daevir," he said gently, "let us not be quick to…"
I turned sharply, cutting him off.b "I heard her screams in that tower!" I snapped. "I felt her despair. Do you know what grief like that does to a person?"
My chest rose and fell faster.
"It rots the heart. It twists the mind. It turns love into poison."
Even as I said it, a part of me remembered her smile. The way she once looked at me like I was her entire world.
That memory only made the anger burn hotter.
Because now she has nothing to lose.
And people with nothing to lose were the most dangerous of all.
"You are assuming motive without proof," Zephyr replied calmly.
I laughed bitterly.
"You didn't see her dragged through the courtyard," I said. "You didn't hear them call her cursed. You didn't watch her cling to her belly like it was the only thing keeping her alive."
I swallowed hard.
"If that child died… if she believes the world stole him from her… then what is one more child to her revenge?"
Zephyr stepped closer.
"The Scarlet Witch stories existed before Amarien vanished," he said. "This may be a coincidence, or another force at play."
"Coincidence?!" I repeated.
My wolf stirred inside me, restless, agitated.
Ezriel prowled beneath my skin, feeding on my anger.
"My son is blind!" I said quietly. "Struck by an unknown curse that targets children!"
I turned fully to Zephyr now.
"My child suffers while she walks free."
The air between us tightened.
Zephyr's eyes softened, but his voice remained steady. "You are speaking as a wounded father, not a ruler."
"And what is a ruler," I shot back, "if he cannot protect his own blood?"
Silence stretched.
I looked back out the window.
Clouds were gathering in the distance. A storm is brewing.
"I gave her my trust," I murmured. "I turned away when she needed me. I told myself she turned away from me first when she chose Theron. I turned away from her and our child."
My hands trembled again.
"And now my son pays for my sins."
"Your majesty," Zephyr sighs.
"I've already made up my mind," I said.
Zephyr's posture stiffened slightly. He knew that tone. He'd heard it when I passed executions. When I signed decrees that could not be undone.
"Daevir…" he began.
"Call the announcers," I ordered.
His brows drew together.
I didn't look at him.
"We are declaring war," I continued. "On Amarien. And on the Alpha of the South."
Zephyr searched my face as if hoping to find hesitation.
He found none.
"You would risk bloodshed on suspicion?" he asked.
"I would risk bloodshed to protect my son," I replied.
My gaze hardened.
"If Theron shelters her, then he stands with her. And if he stands with her, then he stands against me."
He always has.
Ezriel rumbled in agreement within me.
"I will not sit in this palace waiting for another curse to strike," I said. "I will not watch another child suffer while I debate morality."
A flash of lightning split the distant sky.
Thunder followed seconds later.
Zephyr looked older in that moment.
Tired.
But he also looked like a man who knew he could not stop what had already begun.
I moved away from the window, striding past Zephyr toward the doors.
"Send the word," I said as I reached the threshold, not looking back. "By dawn, the kingdom marches South."