Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 70: Scars That Rule a House

[After the Final Tournament—Same Night—House Karzath]

SLAM—!

SHATTER—!

Stone screamed as a table struck the wall and burst apart.

"AGGHHH—!"

Rakhane’s roar tore through the chamber. Blood streamed down the right side of his face, thick and black under moonlight, his ruined eye weeping crimson as if the night itself bled through him. Half his face glistened wet; the other half lay caught in pale silver light—inhuman, twisted, monstrous.

Sareth-Min recoiled, "High Ensi—please. We must treat the wound before blindness takes you. The Urzan Temple—if we go now—"

SLAP—!

The blow cracked like a whip as Sareth-Min staggered, tasting blood.

"Did I tell you to open your damn mouth?" Rakhane hissed, breath hot and venomous.

"N-No, High Ensi, I only—"

Rakhane turned away, shoulders shaking. His fist clenched so tightly the veins stood like cords, his voice was low and certain, "This eye will never be healed; this broken eye will stand as witness—to what Zeramet Karash did."

Sareth-Min’s eyes widened in terror, because he had spoken the Malik’s name.

Not a title. Not a prayer.

A name, no serpent—no matter how powerful—spoke the Malik’s name aloud without consequence.

Rakhane’s laughter followed, warped and jagged. "That Silver Serpent is proud, isn’t he?" He spat blood. "So righteous. So adored."

His smile spread—slow, obscene. "I will grind that pride into sand. I will take what he guards most fiercely."

He stepped closer to the shattered mirror, staring at his own reflection—one eye blazing, the other ruined.

"I will make his consort mine."

Sareth-Min trembled.

"I will make Levin Veyrhold kneel before me," Rakhane whispered. "Serve me. Break for me. Anything it takes."

The words were a death sentence—for the house, for everyone beneath its roof. Sareth-Min swallowed, knowing this path led only to annihilation.

They did not know—beyond the window, something moved.

A Black Serpent, scales dull as ink, coiled briefly upon the stone ledge. Its tongue flicked—hiss—and it slipped into the hedges below, vanishing into shadow with secrets clutched between its fangs.

And beyond the chamber door—Captain Raevahn stood motionless.

He had heard everything; he turned without a sound and walked the corridor toward Lady Arinaya’s chambers, boots measured, resolve hardening with every step.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Come in," Arinaya’s voice answered—steady, weary.

Raevahn entered and bowed deeply. "My lady... as you foresaw. The High Ensi will move against both Malik and Malika."

Arinaya closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. "I knew defeat would strip him of restraint."

"What do we do?" Raevahn asked quietly.

She met his gaze—clear, sharp, and unafraid. "We move with precision. Malik sees his lust now. He tolerates Rakhane only because of our father’s loyalty."

Her voice dropped. "The moment Rakhane crosses the final boundary... the law will fall like a blade. House Karzath will be erased with every single serpent, even the child born out of the shell."

Raevahn nodded. "Then we must win Malika’s favor."

"Yes," Arinaya said. "Only the Malika can stay the Malik’s hand."

Raevahn drew a breath—and knelt on one knee, "My lady... then I must step down as Captain of House Karzath."

Shock flashed across her face. "Captain—no. I will not have you stripped of the title. I will save every single one of you. Don’t abandon the—"

"I do not abandon you," Raevahn said gently. "But my lady, if I remain captain, I must obey High Ensi orders. He will use me as a pawn to defeat you—as he did before."

His fist tightened. "I will not allow that to happen to you again."

Memory struck like a blade.

She remembered—

***

[The Dark Night of House Karzath—Years Ago—Midnight]

"I beg you, Rakhane..."

Lord Marvareth, former High Ensi of Zahryssar, knelt before his own son. His shoulders shook; tears soaked his beard.

"Please," he whispered. "Return your mother’s body. Let us bury her. Her soul will never rest."

Rakhane lounged upon the High Ensi’s throne, one leg draped over the armrest, cigar pipe smoldering between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily around his grin.

"Father," he said mildly, "as I told you—stamp the parchment, and I will give you the body."

Arinaya stood frozen, tears streaking her face. Captain Raevahn held Lord Marvareth upright as his knees buckled.

"What crime did we commit, Lord Urzan," Marvareth sobbed, "to be cursed with such a son—"

Rakhane laughed. "Your Urzan will not come, Father," he said coldly. "Only I decide."

He tossed a parchment and seal onto the floor. "Stamp it. I have a house to seize... and a funeral to host for my lovely mother."

Something inside Arinaya broke.

She stepped forward—SLAP—! The sound echoed like thunder; her handprint burned red on Rakhane’s cheek.

Silence fell.

Horror. Shock. Recognition.

Rakhane’s smile vanished, and silence fell. Not peace—recognition. The kind that arrives when a line is crossed and cannot be uncrossed.

Rakhane’s smile vanished.

For the first time, something ugly flickered in his eyes—not surprise, not pain, but offense. As if a thing that believed itself untouchable had finally been touched.

Arinaya’s chest rose and fell. Her voice came sharp, shaking with fury held too long.

"You evil monster," she hissed. "Killing Mother was not enough for you? You hid her body. You threatened Father for a title." Her hands trembled at her sides. "If I had known this was what you would become—if I had known—you would have died the moment you first raised a dagger at Father."

Her eyes burned. "We let that go. We endured, and now you stand here, grown and crowned, and you are nothing but rot wearing a man’s skin. A monster—to the soul."

Rakhane exhaled slowly, almost bored.

"No matter how much you curse me, my dearest sister," he said lightly, "you will not see her body until Father stamps his seal."

Arinaya clenched her fists. For a breath, she closed her eyes, and then she turned.

She knelt before her father. Lord Marvareth’s hands shook as she took them, pressing his calloused palms to her wet cheeks. Tears slid freely down her face.

"Father," she whispered. "Do it."

He stared at her in horror. "No, Arinaya. If I yield now, he will devour this house alive."

She wiped his tears with her thumbs, steady despite the storm in her chest. "Trust me," she pleaded softly. "I will not let this house fall while I breathe. Please—let us bury Mother before she begins to rot."

Her voice broke; she could not finish the sentence.

Rakhane chuckled.

"Sharp," he mused. "I suppose this is why he named you as his heir."

Lord Marvareth’s shoulders collapsed inward. His breath shuddered as he reached for the seal.

STAMP—!

The sound echoed—final, damning. Tears splashed onto the wax as it cooled. Rakhane snatched the parchment and threw back his head, laughing—high, cracked, unhinged.

"I am High Ensi," he roared. "I am High Ensi!"

The laughter clawed at the walls. Arinaya surged to her feet. "Where is Mother’s body?"

Rakhane smiled thinly. "In Father’s chamber. In the trunk where she kept her clothes."

Lord Marvareth turned and ran, grief driving him faster than age ever could. Arinaya and Captain Raevahn moved to follow—

"Only Father leaves," Rakhane said lazily. "You, sister, and you, Captain—remain."

Marvareth turned back, eyes wild. "What more do you want—"

Arinaya stepped forward, raising a hand. "Father," she said quietly. "Go. I can handle this."

He shook his head. "I will not leave you—"

"Please," she whispered. "Save Mother’s body. At least that."

His fists clenched. Torn between the living and the dead, he turned at last and left. The doors slammed shut behind him.

SHUT—!

Rakhane leaned back, satisfied. "Now that I am High Ensi," he said, tapping the armrest, "you should remember the laws."

Arinaya’s jaw tightened. "Stop circling, Rakhane. Say what you want."

He blinked, amused. "Nothing extravagant. Only punishment—for daring to raise a hand against your lord."

Raevahn stiffened. "Young lord, you cannot—"

"HIGH ENSI," Rakhane snapped. "And I can."

He tilted his head toward Arinaya. "Do you agree, sister? That you must be punished for raising a hand against the lord of this house, right?"

She trembled—but she did not lower her eyes.

"Do it," she said, voice steady. "Quickly."

Rakhane smiled and turned to Raevahn. "Captain, state the punishment."

Raevahn’s lips parted. No sound came.

"Captain," Rakhane said softly, dangerously. "Or shall I administer it myself?"

Raevahn’s hands shook. His head bowed. "Ten... ten lashes," he whispered. "For raising a hand against... against the lord."

Rakhane’s smile widened. "Then what are you waiting for? Punish the traitor. Or I will execute you for disobedience."

Tears slid down Raevahn’s face.

He looked at Arinaya. She met his gaze and smiled faintly—bravely, heartbreakingly.

"Do it," she said. "You must obey your High Ensi."

The lashes fell; each one tore more than flesh.

***

[The Present Day—Night]

Moonlight traced the faint scars across Arinaya’s back—thin, pale lines etched into memory.

Raevahn knelt before her now, head bowed, voice rough with guilt. "I will never allow myself to be controlled again, my lady. Not by him. Not by anyone. If I fail this time—"

He swallowed.

"I will die before I let it happen again."

Arinaya closed her eyes, breath trembling, then she nodded as she said quietly, "You may do as you see fit, Captain; I will not stop you."

Outside, the night listened.

And House Karzath—wounded, divided, and dangerous—waited for the reckoning it had long delayed.