Serpent Emperor's Bride

Chapter 239: "My Mate is Still Alive"

[Thalryn Empire — The Next Morning — Veyrhold House]

"What?!" Duke Aren shot to his feet so abruptly that the chair nearly toppled backward. "The Serpent Knights withdrew?"

Disbelief echoed throughout the chamber; the captain of House Veyrhold immediately bowed as his voice remained steady.

"Yes, Your Grace. Their camps were dismantled before dawn; our scouts confirmed it personally, and the armies of Zahryssar have already begun marching back toward their empire."

Silence, a long silence. Duke Aren slowly lowered himself back into his chair, his brows furrowed deeply because this made no sense.

Absolutely no sense. Across from him, Zyvera folded her arms, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"That is strange. That bastard—" COUGH!

She immediately covered her mouth, then corrected herself. "That highly respected and completely reasonable Malik of Zahryssar."

The captain blinked. Duke Aren looked at her. Zyvera rolled her eyes.

"What? That lunatic chased Malika’s trail across half the continent." Her expression darkened. "He butchered Malik Zeramet. He executed servants. He slaughtered attendants, and according to every report we received..."

Her voice became colder.

"...he was willing to burn kingdoms just to find one person."

Silence, and then she leaned forward. "So why stop now?"

Nobody answered because nobody possessed an answer. Duke Aren slowly rubbed his forehead; his thoughts raced. Something had happened, something significant, something powerful enough to force Slyvarakh to abandon his plans.

And that thought alone was terrifying because the things capable of frightening Slyvarakh were not numerous.

Then slowly...a smile appeared, small and dangerous. The smile of a father seeing opportunity.

"Well. If the serpent has withdrawn his fangs...then it would be foolish not to move."

The captain immediately straightened. Duke Aren looked toward the western horizon, toward the distant mountains, toward Qashmir and toward his son.

And for the first time in days...hope appeared.

"I am going to bring Levin home."

The room became quiet not because anyone disagreed but because everyone understood. This was never about politics. This was about a father, a father who had spent months wondering whether his child was safe.

Wondering whether he was eating, sleeping, and alive. Wondering whether he was frightened. Wondering whether he was alone.

The captain lowered his head. "What are your orders, Your Grace?"

Duke Aren answered immediately; his voice became firm.

"Prepare the travel party. We leave for the western border, and from there..." A rare softness entered his eyes. "...we bring my son back."

The captain immediately bowed. "As you command."

Then he turned and left the chamber, already shouting orders before the doors had even fully closed. Moments later...only Duke Aren and Zyvera remained.

Silence lingered, then the Duke looked toward her. "Would you like to accompany us?"

Zyvera blinked. "Me?"

Duke Aren nodded. "You and your brother."

The young woman immediately shook her head. "I should remain here. Someone has to guard the estate and make sure no one steals—"

The Duke immediately cut her off, saying, "I do not allow strangers to guard my house."

Zyvera looked confused, then Duke Aren smiled, a very dangerous faint smile.

"Especially thieves."

Silence, an absolute silence. Zyvera froze. "Why would you even ask as if I have an option to choose?"

Duke Aren said, "I was just being considerate."

Zyvera shot a glare at the duke, and the duke asked, "What?!"

The young woman looked genuinely offended. "I saved your son!"

"Correct."

"I helped you escape that bastard Malik of Zahryssar!"

"Also correct."

"I nearly died several times!"

"Very admirable."

Zyvera stared, then stared harder. Duke Aren looked entirely too pleased with himself; finally, she threw her hands into the air.

"Fine! I’ll come, and I will also inform that wandering idiot who unfortunately shares my blood."

Duke Aren chuckled, a genuine chuckle. One he had not made in quite some years. Zyvera turned dramatically; her cloak swirled behind her, and she marched toward the door, very angry and very offended.

Duke Aren stood alone; his smile slowly faded, and his gaze drifted toward the western horizon once more.

Then quietly...almost like a prayer...he whispered, "Hold on a little longer, Levin."

The morning sunlight spilled through the windows and somewhere far away... Fate had already begun moving the pieces that would reunite a father with his child.

***

[Meanwhile—Hallway of Veyrhold Estate]

"That ridiculously handsome old man..." Zyvera exploded the moment she stepped into the hallway; her boots echoed against polished marble. "What does he think of me?!"

She continued marching, fuming. Absolutely fuming. "Does he honestly believe I steal every shiny thing I see?"

A pause, then another, then she looked around and immediately stopped.

Silence.

The hallway sparkled...literally sparkled. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Ancient paintings rested within silver frames. The vases alone probably cost more than entire villages. Even the carpets looked expensive enough to have their own inheritance.

Every wall, every decoration, every piece of furniture. Everything screamed—

Money.

Money.

And more money.

Zyvera stared, then slowly crossed her arms. "...Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. But I have dignity."

"Since when?" A familiar voice echoed from behind.

Immediately her eye twitched, and she turned around.

And there he was. Raviel looking entirely too relaxed. Entirely too smug and entirely too annoying as she groaned dramatically.

"Oh, for the love of the gods. Can you stop appearing behind me like some wandering ghost?"

Raviel shrugged, then casually leaned against a pillar. Zyvera narrowed her eyes.

"And where exactly have you been roaming? Because unlike certain people..." She pointed at herself proudly. "...I have been contributing to society."

Raviel looked unimpressed. "By arguing with Duke?"

"I am building relationships."

Then Raviel sighed, and the familiar sibling argument should have continued. It always did, yet this time...something was different. Zyvera noticed immediately the usual teasing disappeared from his face.

The amusement faded, the arrogance vanished, and suddenly...he looked tired...very tired. The sight immediately made her frown, then Raviel ran a hand through his hair.

"I found something."

The words came quietly. Zyvera blinked. "What?"

Raviel looked away, toward the distant windows and toward the snow-covered lands beyond. Then softly repeated, "I found something important."

Now she was genuinely curious and asked, "More important than Malika Ninsara’s legendary jewels?"

Normally he would have rolled his eyes. Normally he would have insulted her. Normally he would have laughed.

Instead...he remained silent.

Then quietly said—

"My mate."

Silence. The playful mood vanished instantly because Zyvera recognized that expression. She hated that expression of his, the loneliness, the longing, and the hope that refused to die.

Years had passed, yet it remained like an old wound that never healed. Then slowly she asked, "What are you talking about?"

Raviel’s gaze remained fixed somewhere far away. "I felt him."

Her heart sank immediately. "No."

The word escaped before she could stop it, but Raviel continued. "The day we entered this estate. I could feel it."

Zyvera froze; the hallway suddenly felt colder...much colder. Then Raviel slowly clenched his fist. "He was here; he stood somewhere within this estate."

Zyvera looked away, unable to meet his eyes because she already knew where this conversation was heading. Then softly she said—

"Brother..."

Raviel immediately stiffened; the warning alone was enough, yet she continued anyway.

"For the gods’ sake, it has been years; he disappeared, he is probably dead—"

"Do not." The words cut through the hallway like a blade. Zyvera froze as Raviel’s eyes had darkened dangerously and painfully.

For a brief moment...she saw something terrifying, not anger or rage but a raw desperation. Then Raviel slowly stepped forward; his voice became deadly calm.

"Utter another word and I will forget you are my sister."

Silence.

The threat wasn’t loud and wasn’t dramatic. Yet somehow it felt worse, much worse because he meant it. Then he looked away, his jaw tightening and his hands trembling slightly.

"I can feel him." The confession came quietly, almost like a prayer. "I know he is alive. I know it."

Zyvera closed her eyes, mumbling, "Gods...not again."

Then she sighed heavily, the sigh of someone who had lost this argument a thousand times before. "Brother. You would not even recognize him."

Raviel remained silent, and she continued. "You saw him when you were children. You were both children; the marriage happened before either of you understood what marriage even meant. You were forced to mark him."

Her voice became bitter.

"This is why I always hated those traditions. Children should not be marked. They should not be married, and thank the gods I escaped before someone forced me into such nonsense."

Raviel laughed, a single humorless laugh. Then slowly looked toward her.

"You never understood." The words came softly, almost sadly.

Zyvera frowned. "What?"

For several moments...he said nothing. Then finally, his voice lowered as he said, "When I marked him...he smiled."

The hallway became still. Even Zyvera froze because Raviel almost never spoke about it, and then he continued as his eyes grew distant and as though looking into another lifetime.

"I still remember it; he was smaller than me. He hid behind pillars when I entered our wedding chamber. We may have been strangers to each other, but that night...I fell for someone who hid behind the pillar. He was...so beautiful."

Silence.

Then the smile disappeared, leaving only pain. "I remember every detail of that night."

"What a lovesick fool," Zyvera mumbled to herself.

The words echoed quietly. Years, all these years, and he still remembered. Then slowly...Raviel lifted his head, his eyes burning with certainty, absolute certainty.

"I know he is alive."

The winds howled beyond the windows, the snow continued falling, and for a moment...even Zyvera didn’t know what to say.

Then Raviel whispered the name, a name he had carried in his heart for years, a name he had never forgotten and a name he refused to bury.

"Naburash."

Silence.

His fingers tightened, and his gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond the horizon, beyond kingdoms, beyond mountains, and beyond time itself.

Then quietly...like a vow made to the heavens, "My Naburash is still alive."

And somewhere far away...fate smiled because neither sibling realized the truth. The man Raviel had searched for all these years...the mate he refused to abandon...

The child husband everyone believed lost...was much closer than either of them could possibly imagine and currently rotting in the dungeon of Silthara Palace.