Chapter 63 Closed doors with Darian’s Corpse
Daevir's POV
I stared at my father's lifeless body. Yet all I felt was nothing.
The widows of the palace had conducted a formal mourning. Everyone was covered in white.
Guilt gnawed at my heart. How could I be so heartless? Afterall, he is my father.
When the news of the emperor's death reached me as I was seated in the Emperor's state garden, staring at the rocky mountains that rolled on to eternity. It was beautiful and serene. I hoped to be part of that beauty and serenity, blocking out the disturbing news I had just heard from Catherine the day before. I was nothing but at ease.
Zephyr was the one who brought the news." Your father has died." He has said, but I didn't bulge. I felt neither pain nor suffering, nor regret.
But his next words peeled through the layers of my numbness.
"Your father drank the red moon poison and went to sleep."
A shiver went down my spine. It was then I realised he had known. He had known all this while that it was me poisoning him.
He had known, yet he refused to say a word. He had known, yet he kept drinking the poison I gave him.
Why?!
Was the old fool happy to go to the afterlife after bringing so much pain and harm to young girls? Was he hoping to get an eternity of bliss after stripping them of their pride and dignity?
"No one in the palace must know it's suicide," Zephyr concluded and walked out of the scene, believing he left me to mourn.
All that came out of me was a sick explosion of laughter. I couldn't tell what I was laughing at. Maybe I was going mad like my father. Malrick repeatedly told me incidents where the Emperor mutters strange words and asks strange questions.
It could be hereditary. Maybe I'll also inherit his fate of tearing hearts apart and bringing sorrow to people.
My eyes lowered to the Emperor's still body again.
"Darian," I said, with no ounce of feeling in my voice.
The only reason I'm here is to fulfill tradition. I wanted to say.
The ancient priests among us demand that the Heir to the throne spend a week with the corpse of his predecessor to catch a gleam of wisdom to rule the throne they have left behind.
I've been here half a week, and all I hear is the crickets and perhaps those worms crawling up my father's belly, waiting to consume him whole.
Perhaps that's what I deserve. Silence.
I cursed my own flesh and blood, betrayed him to die a slow, painful death, all for what?
A woman who had played with my arch-nemesis.
I shut my eyes, trying not to have the thought of her in my head. The thought of Amarien has filled me with so much angst this week that one would think I was properly mourning my father.
I felt my chest tighten. I did love this man. He was the first man who taught me how to weigh a sword. The one who fueled my hatred for the werewolves.
I felt feelings of sadness for my father seep into my heart. But I held it shut.
This was the same man who held a full-blown legacy behind my back. He couldn't even get the decency to tell me Theron was my brother before he died.
He just shut me out.
As he should.
Afterall, I was the one who poisoned him so I could have his concubine as my wife.
I shut my eyes as regret gnawed my bones. My hands felt pinned to my side. I couldn't move them to turn to my father and plead for forgiveness. How could I plead for forgiveness when I felt nothing?
There is a deep void within me, and it seems to be sucking out every memory, every joy, every happiness I had for the man in front of me. The void is sucking me off, too. I feel myself draining, and I'm afraid there might be nothing left of me but a husk.
I'm in so much pain. Yet I can't feel it!!!
"Amarien…" I muttered, and tears flowed down my face. That was all I could say as my father's corpse lay still.
I had grown to believe that nothing would fill the void my mother left when she died. I had believed I would never love women the way my father does. It disgusted me.
I thought my life belonged in the field of war, where blood and gore were my continual companions. I loved it. I embraced it. I would die by the sword if I could choose my fate.
But she…
She changed it all.
She did it for him, too. My father loved her. I could tell. It only fuels my hatred for him.
He had had all the women the world could buy, all different sizes, shapes, colours from all over the world, yet the woman who took my pains away was the one he set his heart on.
"She's the end of us both…" I scoffed. "You killed yourself because of her, you old fool!" I spat, clenching his casket like I wanted to rip it bare and crush him to the ground.
But my hands only shivered.
A small breeze blew through the little window in the room. From the wind of it, I could tell it was a wind from the South.
I scoffed.
"If only you would grace us with your presence, big brother."
My men had only broken the news to me sooner: Theron had been leading us into a pit all this time.
"He is winning," they said. Apparently, all our victories were nothing but a facade. Theron had deliberately kept us at ease to weaken us, not showing us the extent of his might and influence in the South.
"They are progressing North now." One of my men had said. "There's nothing we can do. Theron is a beast. He is too strong for us."
I shut my eyes, feeling guilty that I didn't think of Theron's victory over our Empire. I thought of him with Amarien.
How could Theron get to her before I did? How did he do it?
Jealousy shut up in my blood.
It must be her scent; she had always had that darn scent that weakened my bones. Father sensed it.
What did Theron do to her when he found her? Did he touch her? Did he kiss her? Did he love her as I did?!
Rage exploded in my skull, and I slammed my hands on the casket, making it give a loud crack of weariness.
I quickly turned away from my father, lest my rage lead me to do something I would regret.
"Your highness," a soft voice quivered in the darkness.
My heart leaped in my chest. "Amarien?"