Chapter 19 : The king’s weakness

The night air was heavy with rain. Thunder rolled in the distance, soft and hollow, like the echo of an old wound refusing to heal.

In the queen’s chamber, candles flickered low, their flames painting golden halos across the silken sheets where Daphne lay. She was awake—always awake now—staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft rustle of the curtains and the weight of her own thoughts.

Her body had healed, but her heart had not. The poison might have left her blood, yet the mistrust still lingered—thick as smoke in the air.

She closed her eyes. For once, she wanted peace.

Just a night without suspicion. Without fear.

The door creaked open.

Zerach stood there, his armor half removed, his eyes shadowed with something between guilt and longing.

“May I come in?” he asked quietly.

Daphne sat up slowly, her pulse quickening. “You never have to ask.”

He entered, the storm behind him caught in his shoulders. The firelight kissed the edge of his jaw, glinting against the small scar just beneath his left horn.

For a long moment, neither spoke. He crossed the room and stood at her bedside, staring down at her with the same look he had worn on their wedding night—soft, reverent, afraid to touch something he had nearly lost.

“I almost lost you,” he said finally, voice thick. “If the healers had come a moment later—”

She reached up, pressing a hand to his chest. “But they didn’t. I’m still here.”

He caught her fingers gently, lowering them to his lips. “And yet… I failed to protect you.”

She shook her head. “You’ve carried enough guilt, Zerach. Don’t add this to it.”

His gaze dropped, shadows gathering in the gold. “How can I not? You were poisoned under my roof. In my palace. I should have—”

“Stop.” Her voice broke. “Don’t take the blame for someone else’s sin.”

He looked up then, and the storm in his eyes melted into something else—something darker, rawer. “You always forgive too easily,” he whispered. “Even when you shouldn’t.”

“And you,” she said softly, “love too fiercely—even when it blinds you.”

The air between them thickened.

Zerach’s breath brushed her cheek. His hand rose to cradle her jaw, his thumb tracing the line of her lips as if trying to memorize them again.

“Tell me,” he murmured, “how do I stop loving you?”

She smiled faintly, tears burning behind her lashes. “You don’t.”

And then his mouth was on hers.

The kiss was not gentle—not at first. It was desperate, searching, as though he were drowning and she was the air he had long been denied. She melted beneath it, her hands gripping his tunic as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing closer, his warmth erasing every fear.

Her breath caught when he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “I thought I would never touch you again,” he whispered.

“Then don’t stop,” she answered.

He didn’t.

His lips trailed down her throat, slow and reverent, his hands exploring her like a prayer spoken through touch. Her heartbeat stuttered as he laid her back against the sheets, his weight settling over her with careful restraint, as though afraid she might vanish if he moved too fast.

The rain began to fall outside—soft, steady. Each drop echoed the rhythm of their hearts.

Her gown slipped from her shoulders, his hands tracing every curve of her skin. When he entered her, it was like breathing again after being held underwater too long. They moved together in perfect rhythm, each sigh and moan melting into the other until the only sound in the room was their joined breaths and the whisper of rain against stone.

Time seemed to stop.

He kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips again, whispering her name like a vow. And when it was over, they stayed entangled, his arms wrapped around her as if shielding her from every shadow.

“I will never let anyone harm you again,” Zerach vowed quietly, pressing his lips to her hair.

Daphne rested her hand against his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart beneath her palm. “Just promise me one thing,” she whispered. “That you’ll always trust me, even when things seem unclear.”

He hesitated, his thumb stroking her hand. “You have my word, little queen.”

But somewhere deep inside her, the words didn’t feel as solid as they once had.

⸻

The days that followed were gentle at first—like sunlight after storm. Zerach spent more time by her side, easing her fears, walking with her through the gardens. They shared quiet laughter again, the kind that had once filled their home before Rosa’s arrival.

But peace, in this palace, never lasted long.

Rosa returned to her father’s side with flawless devotion. She spoke softly, smiled often, and pretended to repent.

One evening, before the court, she knelt before Zerach.

“I was foolish, Father,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes. “I should have trusted you to see justice done. I only wanted to protect you—from lies and deceit.”

Zerach’s heart softened instantly.

He lifted her chin gently, smiling down at her. “Rise, my daughter. The past is gone. We begin anew.”

The court applauded. Even the ministers smiled.

But Daphne’s stomach turned cold.

She watched Rosa through the thin veil of her lashes—the faint curve of her lips, the flicker of triumph in her eyes as she rose.

Later that night, Daphne tried to speak to Zerach, but he silenced her with a kiss.

“Let it go,” he said softly. “She has changed. You must give her the chance to prove it.”

Daphne forced a nod, but her chest tightened. She knew better. She had seen the darkness behind Rosa’s tears.

⸻

Weeks passed.

And as Rosa grew closer to Zerach, Daphne began to vanish from his days.

First it was small things—the council meetings he attended without her, the shared suppers that grew shorter, the laughter that dimmed.

Then one morning, she woke to find the king’s side of the bed cold.

She found him hours later in the garden—with Rosa.

The girl laughed softly, her hand brushing his arm as she showed him something in the flowers. Zerach smiled, distracted, gentle.

Daphne stood at the window, unseen, her heart aching.

She wanted to believe it was innocence.

She wanted to believe the war was over.

But Rosa’s words echoed like poison in her mind—

“I am here to destroy your peace.”

And as Daphne watched the two of them beneath the morning sun, she knew that Rosa had only just begun.