Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 95: The Poisoned Flower

[Thalryn Empire — Veyrhold House — The Next Day]

Winter had settled heavily over the northern lands of the Thalryn Empire.

Beyond the towering stone walls of Veyrhold House, the sky was pale and endless, and snow fell slowly from the clouds like drifting feathers. Each flake touched the frozen ground in silence, covering the ancient courtyard in a blanket of white.

Within the manor, however, the air was far less peaceful. In a dim chamber overlooking the snow-covered gardens, Aelira Veyrhold paced restlessly.

The fire in the hearth had nearly died, leaving the room wrapped in cold shadows. She stood near the window, her fingers pressed anxiously against her lips as she stared out at the falling snow.

"...How..." she muttered under her breath, her teeth nibbling at her finger in agitation. "How is that even possible?"

The words escaped her in a frustrated whisper.

"My brother... bearing a child?"

She turned sharply away from the window, pacing across the dark chamber as disbelief twisted her thoughts.

"He is an Alpha." Her voice sharpened. "An Alpha, how could someone like him carry children...?"

The news quickly spread throughout the northern courts.

’The Malika of Zahryssar is with child.’

Aelira’s jaw tightened, her nails pressed deeper into her palm.

"...No."

The word slipped out quietly, her eyes darkened as jealousy coiled slowly inside her chest.

"No... I cannot allow this; Brother already has everything." Her voice trembled with bitter resentment. "He escaped this house... escaped Father’s expectations... escaped the life the rest of us were forced to endure ..."

Her gaze hardened.

"And now he receives an empire as well?"

The wind howled faintly outside the window as snow struck against the glass.

Aelira straightened slowly.

"No." Her voice steadied. "I cannot sit here while my brother becomes the most powerful figure in two empires."

Her cloak lay draped across the chair beside the fire. She grabbed it without hesitation.

"If Zahryssar believes they can celebrate without interruption ..." A faint, calculating smile appeared on her lips. "...then they are mistaken."

Her fingers tightened around the cloak.

"I will go there myself." Her eyes gleamed with quiet determination. "I will go to Zahryssar."

And somewhere beneath the rising storm of her thoughts, ambition whispered louder than blood.

***

[Veyrhold House—Duke Aren’s Office—The Same Morning]

In another wing of the vast northern manor, the mood was very different.

The Duke’s office was warm and bright despite the winter outside. A fire burned steadily within the massive stone hearth, filling the chamber with the comforting scent of pinewood.

Behind a large oak desk sat Duke Aren Veyrhold.

In his hands rested two letters.

One carried the elegant imperial seal of Zeramet Karash, Emperor of Zahryssar. The other bore the familiar handwriting of his son.

Levin.

The duke read the letters slowly, his expression calm and thoughtful. Then, at last, a gentle smile appeared beneath his beard.

"...He truly is living well."

The words were quiet but filled with relief.

Across the room stood the duke’s elderly butler, hands folded neatly behind his back.

"I always believed the rumors surrounding the Serpent Emperor were exaggerated, my lord," the butler said politely.

Duke Aren gave a soft chuckle, "Oh, no."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze drifting toward the window where snow continued to fall beyond the glass.

"From what I know of him...the rumors about his brutality are most likely true."

The butler blinked slightly.

"But the rumors about his consorts were false."

The duke tapped Levin’s letter lightly against the desk, "Zeramet Karash may be a ruthless emperor to his enemies..."

His voice softened.

"But to the one he claims as his consort ..." The duke shook his head gently. "...he is surprisingly gentle."

The butler nodded with quiet agreement, "It appears Lord Levin is treated with great care."

Duke Aren’s eyes rested on the letter once more, "Yes."

His voice grew thoughtful.

"And for that reason..." He exhaled slowly. "...I do not regret the choice Levin made. My son sacrificed much when he left this house."

His gaze lowered slightly.

"But at least his sacrifice did not condemn him to a life of misery."

The butler smiled faintly, "That is a comfort any father would cherish, my lord."

For a moment the duke remained silent, staring thoughtfully at the two letters in his hands. Then the butler spoke again.

"Do you intend to visit Zahryssar again, my lord?"

Duke Aren raised an eyebrow slightly, "Visit?"

He leaned back in his chair, considering the idea carefully, "I do not mind travelling all the way to Zahryssar once more..."

His eyes drifted toward Levin’s letter again.

"...but I want my son home for a visit?"

A small smile appeared, "It has been nearly a year since he left, after all."

The butler nodded respectfully, "Shall I prepare a letter inviting Lord Levin to return for a visit?"

Duke Aren thought for a moment, then he nodded slowly, "Yes. Send the letter."

He folded Levin’s parchment carefully before placing it upon the desk, "Tell my son his father would very much like to see him again."

Outside the manor windows, the snow continued to fall softly over the frozen lands of Thalryn, and far to the south, in the golden empire of Zahryssar, the future of two empires quietly continued to grow.

***

[Zahryssar Empire — Silthara Palace — The Malika’s Office — The Same Time]

The midday sun poured through the tall lattice windows of the Malika’s office, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow across the marble floor.

Outside, the palace courtyards hummed with quiet activity. Servants passed through the corridors with lowered voices, and guards stood with renewed vigilance at every archway. Since the news of the unborn heirs had spread across the empire, Silthara Palace had become a place of both celebration and tension.

Within the chamber, however, calm discipline reigned.

Levin sat behind the long cedar table carved with the sigils of Zahryssar. Several parchments lay spread before him, sealed reports from distant provinces and progress accounts from imperial construction projects.

One hand moved steadily across the parchment as he read. The other rested almost unconsciously against his stomach, as if he is making sure, he is really with child.

Across the chamber stood Lady Arinaya and Captain Raevahn.

Both bowed deeply.

"Congratulations, Malika," Lady Arinaya said with composed warmth. "At last, Zahryssar has been blessed by Lord Urzan himself."

Raevahn inclined his head beside her, "May the heirs grow strong beneath the protection of the empire."

Levin lifted his gaze from the parchment, a faint smile touched his lips.

"Thank you, Lady Arinaya." His voice remained calm, but there was quiet gratitude in it. "You may rise."

The two straightened.

Arinaya moved gracefully toward the low chair placed before the table and sat with careful poise, while Raevahn returned to his silent post beside the carved pillar behind Levin.

For a moment the room settled again into the quiet rhythm of governance.

Then Levin spoke, "Did you inspect the bridge?"

Arinaya nodded.

"Yes, Malika." She unfolded a parchment and placed it gently upon the table before him. "The engineers have completed the final stone reinforcements. Only the outer carvings remain unfinished."

Her finger traced a small section of the map drawn upon the parchment. "If the weather remains stable, the work will be completed within a week."

Levin studied the document carefully.

A massive structure stretching across the deep canyon that separated the western territories from the capital. Once completed, it would become one of the empire’s greatest engineering achievements.

"I see."

Levin placed the parchment aside slowly. "Then we will visit the site once the work is finished."

Arinaya inclined her head respectfully, "As you command, Malika."

But behind Levin, Raevahn shifted slightly, the movement was subtle, yet deliberate.

"Malika."

Levin’s quill paused above the parchment. Raevahn’s voice remained respectful, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable.

"I beg forgiveness for speaking out of turn."

Levin glanced back toward him, "Speak."

Raevahn bowed his head slightly.

"Under the current circumstances..." His eyes lifted carefully. "...it may not be wise for the Malika to travel beyond the palace walls."

The chamber fell quiet. Arinaya’s gaze shifted briefly toward him, though she did not interrupt.

Levin turned back to the parchment before him, "I will be fine, Raevahn. This is not the first time I have left the palace."

Raevahn did not argue immediately. Instead, he spoke carefully.

"With respect, Malika... the situation within the empire is no longer the same as before." His hand rested lightly against the hilt of his sword.

"The palace barrier was breached only days ago."

His voice lowered.

"And now the empire knows that the Malika carries the future heirs of Zahryssar."

The words lingered in the air.

Levin tapped the edge of the parchment thoughtfully, "Yes."

He acknowledged the truth without hesitation, "But an emperor’s consort cannot hide behind palace walls simply because enemies exist."

His gaze lifted calmly toward Raevahn.

"If fear ruled the throne of Zahryssar..." His lips curved faintly. "...this empire would have collapsed centuries ago."

Raevahn held his gaze for a moment longer, then he bowed his head again, "Then allow me to increase the escort."

Levin leaned back slightly in his chair, "That was already my intention."

He folded the parchment slowly.

"This time..." His voice remained steady. "...we will travel with additional knights."

Raevahn nodded once, "As you command, Malika."

But the tension in his posture did not fade, because somewhere beyond the golden walls of Silthara Palace, serpents were already preparing to strike.

And the unborn heirs of Zahryssar had become the most valuable—and most vulnerable—lives in the empire.

***

[House Karzath — The Same Time]

The halls of House Karzath were quiet beneath the fading afternoon light.

Inside a private chamber far from the main corridors, the curtains had been drawn tightly across the windows. Only a single oil lamp burned within the room, casting long shadows across the stone walls.

Standing near the table was Serath-Min.

Or rather—The man wearing Serath-Min’s face, between his fingers he held a small flower. Its petals were pale violet, almost beautiful at first glance. Yet a faint black vein ran through each delicate petal, like poison slowly spreading through living flesh.

Across from him stood Rakhane.

His single visible eye narrowed slightly as he studied the flower, "What is that?"

"This..." Azhrakaal voice was calm. "...is a gift."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"If this flower is crushed and mixed within the Malika’s food..." He tilted the bloom slowly, letting the lamplight reflect against its strange veins.

"...the child he carries will begin to die."

The room fell silent.

Rakhane’s gaze darkened.

"Slowly?" he asked.

"Yes."

Serath-Min—or rather Azhrakaal—smirked faintly, "Slowly enough that no physician will suspect poison. The body will simply reject the unborn life."

Rakhane’s fingers curled slightly, "But it will not harm my Levin?"

The question carried something strange, something twisted. Azhrakaal’s eyes glimmered faintly in the lamplight.

"No." He shook his head slowly. "This flower does not harm the mother. It only kills the child."

Rakhane exhaled slowly, then he reached forward and lifted the flower from Azhrakaal’s hand. For a moment he studied it carefully.

Then he frowned.

"But how will it reach the imperial table?" His voice sharpened slightly. "The Malika’s food is inspected by servants and attendants before it is ever placed before him, even poison would not pass unnoticed."

Azhrakaal leaned back against the chair beside the table, entirely unconcerned.

"That would normally be true." His eyes gleamed. "But...we have a friend inside the palace."

Rakhane’s brow furrowed, "A spy?"

Azhrakaal chuckled quietly, "A very useful one."

Rakhane crossed his arms slowly, "You mean someone who serves close to the Silver Serpent himself?"

Azhrakaal’s smile grew colder, "How else do you think the previous consorts died?"

The words hung in the air like a curse. Rakhane’s eye widened slightly, then slowly a dark grin spread across his face.

"I see...I wonder who this loyal servant might be."

Azhrakaal rose from the chair slowly, his shadow stretched long across the wall, "He is not loyal to me."

Rakhane glanced up. Azhrakaal’s voice lowered into a quiet whisper.

"He is loyal to someone else." His smile turned almost amused. "And as every empire knows...an omega will do anything for his Alpha."

The lamp flame flickered.

And somewhere far away in Silthara Palace, the unsuspecting empire continued celebrating the coming of its heirs—

Unaware that death had already begun its slow journey toward them.