Chapter 171

Emeriel slipped into her remaining clothes, catching her reflection in the tall, elegant, wooden-framed mirror. A sad, almost bittersweet smile tugged at her lips as she stared at the girl looking back. It wasn’t Princess Galilea, but Emeriel.

“Thank you,” she murmured sincerely.

The household slaves bowed deeply before silently exiting the bedchamber. Emeriel sighed. The servants had bathed her, dressed her, and assisted with her ablutions. No matter how she hinted or stated her ability to care for herself, Lord Herod either ignored her or deflected easily. They even tied her chest bindings.

Emeriel glanced at her chest. The binds were looser than usual; her breasts were still tender and swollen from her recent heat. Because of this, she wore three layers of shirts.

Taking a breath, Emeriel let the moment sink in. Finally, it was all over.

“Are you ready to go, little one?” Lord Herod’s voice broke the quiet. He stood by the open door, waiting patiently.

She nodded, turning to him. “Thank you for everything.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “How does it feel to be going back to the real world?”

Emeriel stared at her reflection once more. She felt… different. It was hard to put into words, but she didn’t feel like the girl she was before her heat. Usually, she was burdened by the weight of her secrets, the deceit, and the guilt. Every moment was filled with anxiety and fear of discovery.

But this Emeriel, the one in the mirror, simply looked resigned. Sad and resigned. The sadness, it seemed, never changed. Perhaps it was because she had finally experienced a taste of what could have been, what she was missing—what was meant to be hers but would never truly belong to her. It had felt like touching the clouds, reaching for the heavens, only to be reminded that it would never be hers.

It didn’t hurt, not the way she expected. For once, pain wasn’t the defining emotion. Maybe, because she had been in so much pain these past few days, she had gone numb. There was a bone-deep sadness. And resignation.

“Emeriel?” Lord Herod’s voice softened as he approached. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m alright,” she forced a smile. “Let’s go, please. I’m sure they’ve noticed my absence by now.”

Lord Herod studied her a moment longer, then offered his arm, which she gratefully took. Together, they walked through the halls toward the estate’s main entrance. When they reached the gates, Emeriel turned to him.

“Thank you once again for everything,” she said softly.

“There we go again. You sound like a broken record.”

“I’m sorry, My Lord,” she said. “It’s just… no one has ever been this kind to me before. In the beginning, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It took me a while to realize there was no shoe, and after… everything, it still feels unbelievable. That you would be so kind. I guess it makes me feel better that you see my gratitude.”

Lord Herod chuckled. “I see your gratitude, little Em.”

“How can I ever repay you?”

He took her by the shoulders and, with a final, amused smile, guided her through the open gates, remaining on the other side. “Repay me when you become the grand queen.”

Emeriel’s eyes widened. “You know that’s not possi—”

The heavy doors swung shut; his laughter faded into the distance as he walked away.

Aekeira sat on the bed’s edge, her fingers entwined in Lord Vladya’s hair. He sat on the floor, his head resting on her thighs, close to her core. The position was so intimately close it had made her uncomfortable. But as she stroked his black, silken hair and he nestled closer, a rush of warmth spread through her chest. She liked it.

It seemed Aekeira had finally named the nagging feeling within her, a feeling deep in her heart; her love for him shone, forbidden and hidden, but alive nonetheless. Glowing like embers beneath the ashes.

The silence between them was comfortable. Lord Vladya still looked as though he struggled with sexlust, but there was no urgency. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep.

“Merilyn was one of my oldest friends,” his voice was low, unexpected. “I watched her struggle with infertility for centuries.”

Aekeira’s fingers stilled in his hair.

“She tried every known herb,” Lord Vladya continued. “Once, out of desperation, she snuck out of Urai to visit the mages. It was foolish; the journey was risky, and she had only one guard. But she was willing to risk everything for the child she wanted so badly.”

He was talking to her, sharing something personal, opening up. Aekeira’s heart sang.

“The mages couldn’t grant a real pregnancy; they lack such power. But they could give a fake one. They performed a spell that made her feel pregnant.” He paused. “That was over a hundred years ago. She returned so happy, even the cost of the magic didn’t diminish her joy. Henry was terrified, but Merry… she glowed with happiness. The magic lasted only a few hours, but in that brief time, she was the happiest I’d ever seen her.”

“What was the cost?” Aekeira asked softly, resuming her gentle strokes.

“Paralysis.” Lord Vladya’s eyes remained closed. “Merilyn sacrificed the use of her legs for two weeks, just to experience four hours of carrying a child. Basking in the feeling. That’s what Ukrae finally blessed her with.”

No wonder Lady Merilyn radiated such joy, even confined to her bed. Aekeira had a sinking feeling she knew where this conversation was leading.

“She’s my bloodhost, my dear friend. I should be overjoyed for her. I saw everything through; I should be ecstatic. And I am happy for her, but…”

His eyes opened, fixed on the wall. “When I look at that child, all I feel is pain. An ugly jealousy, a sadness so deep it festers. I’ve never had that. What sort of person am I that I would almost hate an innocent newborn? What sort of friend am I? Who have I become?”