34. MELTDOWN UNDER THE NAKED MOON.
Chapter thirty-four
MELTDOWN: UNDER THE NAKED MOON.
High Lord Herodis stood by the window, gazing out over the open field bathed in moonlight.
The night breeze whispered around him, carrying a lovely scent of grass and distant woods.
News of the court had reached his ears, and he couldn’t stop smiling.
“I am so happy for you, my dear friend,” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves outside.
“Who are you speaking to?”
Herod turned at the sound of the familiar voice, catching sight of Dale stepping into the room.
His son’s sharp, inquisitive gaze swept over him as he entered.
“No one, son,” Herod smoothened his expression.
Dale’s brow lifted, his skepticism clear. “So now you talk to yourself?” He sighed, striding to the bed and flopping onto it with an exaggerated motion. “I told you, Father, this loneliness is starting to get to you.”
“I am not lonely. I have you,” Herod countered defensively. “Besides, I am not a lunatic.”
Dale snorted, shaking his head. “If you say so.” Leaning back on the bed, he propped his head on his hands. “But tell me, why are you smiling? Do not think I missed it.”
Herod chuckled. “I am grateful, is all. Things are finally starting to look up for my friend.”
“Friend?” Dale frowned for a moment before realization dawned on his face. “Oh, you mean the grand king’s Soulbond ? The human princess?”
“Uh-huh, that’s the one.” Herod’s smile deepened.
Dale knew everything about his friendship with Emeriel…Herod had told him the full story a years ago.
“Today, the Grand King made an official statement, and my friend even got to address the court," he informed his son, trying to keep his emotions in check, though warmth swelled in his chest. “I still remember vividly how impossible this day seemed two years ago.”
“You live dangerously, Father.” Dale’s voice carried a note of incredulity, a tone Herod had grown used to over the years. “Heavens, of all the females to be friends with, you chose The Ultimate’s woman? I’m still amazed by it all. You cannot imagine the fear I felt when I read your letter detailing everything that happened.”
“I told you, it was not like that—”
“Look, I know you’re lonely, Father. I get it. But please, refrain from making reckless decisions and taking deadly risks just for companionship.”
Herod resisted the urge to roll his eyes, keeping his smile steady.
“Yes, sir,” he said lightly, humor dancing in his voice.
No matter how often he assured Dale his relationship with Emeriel had been purely platonic, his son remained unconvinced.
Some days, Dale seemed to believe him. On others, he spoke as if expecting the main gates to burst open, the grand king storming in to deliver swift vengeance for daring to befriend his Soulbond .
Herod understood where his son’s worries stemmed from, however misplaced they might be.
Dale claimed his return home was purely for business in the city, but Herod did not buy it. Certain his son had come back to keep him company, his arrival happening only three months after receiving Herod’s heartfelt letter.
Glancing at his boy, now reclining with his eyes closed, a deep sense of pride filled Herod.
At three hundred and fifty years old, Dale was every inch the mature, refined gentleman he and Rivera had raised him to be.
Regardless of Dale’s reasons for returning, Herod was simply grateful to have him home. As much as he denied it, the loneliness had crept into his life in recent years.
His son’s presence made it easier to bear. Just as Emeriel’s companionship had once done.
He missed it, he missed her. Missed the ease with which she had once filled the silences.
Herod was glad she was back in Urai, and he was proud of the progress she was making.
Turning back to the window, he let the cool breeze caress his face. The field stretched before him, endless, bathed in silvery moonlight.
He closed his eyes briefly, his heart lighter than it had been in years.
***
At the sight of Grand King Daemonikai, Emeriel's pain…dulled. Receded into the background.
All she could focus on was him. How to shield him from the agony she knew was coming.
“Daemon…” Her voice wavered stepping toward him, her head shaking slightly. He was never meant to find out.
“Is it true?” he asked, his voice hoarse and trembling. “Did we make a child two years ago and lo—” His throat worked, hard. “ Did we lose a child?”
The dread on his face was undeniable.
His eyes were practically begging her to say no. To tell him it wasn’t true.
That it was a lie, a cruel jest. A fabricated story to placate Aekeira.
Emeriel saw it all in his gaze. The raw fear, the refusal to believe.
And for a passing moment, she considered lying to him. Telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. Anything at all to spare him the weight of this unbearable misery.
But lying would not save them. Not from this.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I had a miscarriage.”
He staggered back as if struck.
"No," he breathed, his eyes searching the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but her face.
"It cannot be." He shook his head violently, as if trying to dislodge the truth. "It cannot be."
Emeriel’s eyes leaked more tears.
Her sister moved in her periphery, wiping away her own tears. Aekeira met her eyes briefly and mouthed, “I will be back later.”
The sound of the door closing barely registered. Emeriel’s focus remained fixed on her Beloved. “Daemon, I am sorry.”
“But it cannot be.” He closed the distance between them in an instant, his hands gripping her shoulders. Not harshly, but with the desperate strength of a man barely hanging on. “It’s not possible.”
“It is.” Her face scrunched as fresh sobs racked her. “I got pregnant, Your Grace. I carried your child. And then I…”
Her hands flew to her mouth, muffling the sound of her cries. “And then I lost him. I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I…”
Daemon's hands trembled against her shoulders before suddenly falling away. It was as though all his strength had left him in a single breath.
He turned without a word, his movements slow and heavy, and began walking.
Out of the chambers and into the hall.
His shoulders stooped, head hung low.
He looked so defeated it hurt Emeriel to her core.
Wegai stepped forward as if to follow, but she shook her head, silently commanding him to stay back.
The head guard obeyed, though he looked plainly worried.
Emeriel followed Daemonikai, keeping two paces behind him as he wandered aimlessly down the hall. His steps were leaden, dragging… like each one was a battle.
He moved out of the building and into the courtyard.
The night air was cool, the breeze swirling around them, tugging at their clothes. Emeriel wanted to say something—anything—to offer him comfort. But no words came to mind.
Sometimes, words simply were not enough.
His body swayed and he staggered on his feet.
Emeriel quickly closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms tightly around his midriff.
"Daemon…" she whispered in a plea.
For a moment, he allowed it.
He let her bear half his weight, leaning into her as though the burden was too much to carry alone.
Tears streaming down her face, she held him that way for a while.
Daemonikai stared blankly into the distance, his breath coming in uneven bursts, his eyes dry.
For that small mercy, Emeriel was grateful. She didn't know if she could bear to see him cry. It would surely destroy her completely.
The breeze whispered around them, calm and gentle. If only its refreshing touch could reach inside, soothe the pain killing them both.
At last, Daemonikai straightened, stepping out of her embrace. He didn’t look at her as he began walking again in slow, wandering steps.
Emeriel watched him for a moment before following. Two steps behind, just like before.
They walked out of the courtyard into the meadow, the stars twinkling like scattered diamonds above them. The moon’s glow over the empty field, trailing their path.
When they reached the middle of the field, Daemonikai stopped abruptly.
Emeriel halted a few steps behind him, watching as his shoulders sagged once more in despair.
Then he dropped to his knees, arms hanging limply at his sides.
Tilting his head back, he stared up at the endless sky. “How could you do this to me? How could you…”
Emeriel swiped at her tears, even as fresh ones spilled over. She stayed where she was, resisting the pull to go to him. Giving him the space he needed.
“You took my first son,” his voice trembled in the stillness. “My second son. And now…”
His head fell forward, his chin nearly brushing his chest. As his body swayed, he thrust his arms out to catch himself, his hands bracing against the ground, preventing a complete face plant. “How could you let this happen again? How could you punish me this way?”
Every word, every heart-wrenching question was a dagger to Emeriel's heart.
Every part of her screamed to comfort him. She ached to go to him, to hold him, but she didn’t.
Heavens, it was so hard. What if his healing soul, so fragile after all it has been through, started dying again?
Weeping silently, she forced her feet to remain planted.
“You could have punished me in any other way, but not this.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, glistening in the moonlight.
“Not this…” His voice broke as he looked down at his trembling hands. “Is it not better to never give them at all, if you keep r-ripping them from my arms like this?”
Resolve crumbling, she walked to him unsteadily until she stood in front of him.
“Get up, please.” Bending, she gripped him under his arm, trying to lift him, but he was too heavy.
Fortunately, he helped her, shifting his weight, straightening to kneel upright.
But before she could pull him to his feet, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Holding her so desperately, like an anchor… as if to keep himself from breaking apart entirely.
“How could this happen to us?” he asked shakily, looking up at her. Another tear traced a slow path down his face. “How could we lose a child?”
Emeriel’s tears flowed freely now, impossible to contain. “Please stop. Seeing you like this is tearing me apart.”
A third tear fell, his face contorting in anguish. “I am so sorry—”
“Do not apologize, please.”
“I am so, so, so sorry, Emeriel. This was all my fault. It was all my—”
“Stop blaming yourself!” she hissed fiercely. “Every misfortune that happens is not your fault, do you hear me? It was meant to happen! It was unavoidable! We must try to move past it! We mourn what could have been, but we cannot blame ourselves endlessly.”
Another tear fell, and she wiped it away, her own tears flowing like a river. “We are living beings, Daemon. We are bound to make mistakes, and sometimes… accidents happen. Some things are simply meant to be. Some things cannot be prevented.”
As she spoke, her words resounded deeply within her.
All these years, she had blamed herself. Some nights, in the darkness, she had even blamed him. She had hated them both for what happened.
“Casting blame solves nothing,” she continued in a softer tone. “It only makes the pain worse. How can we heal and move forward when we let guilt take the reins?”
“Riel… it hurts.”
“I know.” She wiped his tears on her sleeve. “It is okay, let it out. I’ve got you, my dearest Beloved. Let it all out.”
She pressed his head to her midriff, her arms encircling him passionately. As his body trembled in her hold, she stroked his hair soothingly, petting him.
“It is okay to release it all. Do not give guilt the power it craves. Guilt peels away the salves on a wound, leaving it raw… scarred… never to heal.”
The wind swept through the meadow, tugging at their clothes, whispering through the grass.
“Everything around me dies," he muttered, his tears soaking into her dress. "Everyone meant to belong to me dies ,”
“You should run, Emeriel. Run far, far away from me.” Yet he held her tighter. “I should not have stopped you from leaving today.”
“Please stop saying such ridiculous things, I am done running,” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “And you, Your Grace, cannot run from me. Because this time, I will chase you to the ends of the earth if I have to.”
His arms on her contracted, pulling her impossibly closer. The raw emotions radiating from him were like waves crashing against a shore.
He shook his head. “If I hadn’t rejected you the way I did… if I hadn’t sent you away, none of this would have happened.”
“You made the right decision. Look at me.” Emeriel cupped his cheek, coaxing his tear-streaked face upward. His red, tormented eyes met hers.
“I never thought I’d say this, but you did the right thing sending me away, and I’m so sorry it took so long for me to realize that.”
He started to shake his head, but she held on, her thumb tracing circles against his skin. “You needed to find yourself. I needed to find myself. I was a slave, and you had been feral for centuries. You hadn’t even had time to grieve, to truly process your loss, and all of a sudden, I was thrown at you. Someone you did not choose. Someone from the very species that took your family, who has the potential to replace what you lost. How could anyone expect you to act differently? You. Did. The. Right. Thing.”
His lips trembled, and he didn’t meet her eyes, but she knew his whole attention was with her.
“We should have communicated better,” she reasoned, brushing her hand against his jaw. “It would have helped greatly. Neither of us was ready for the severed bond or the pain it brought. But that separation was necessary. It forced us to grow. To understand what we truly wanted. We needed that time apart, Daemon. We needed to find ourselves so we could choose each other.”
Slowly, his head returned to rest against her middle, and Emeriel resumed stroking his hair.
The pain that had clung to her heart for years began to ebb, taken over by a sense of release she hadn’t known she needed.
In consoling him, she found herself comforted too.
The guilt and blame she had carried for so long—the self-recrimination and what ifs—they started to dissolve like smoke in the wind.
Emeriel felt so much lighter. Freer. The burden she carried lifted.
Time slipped away unnoticed. She lost track of how long they stayed like this.
Around them, the night moved on. The stars, the moon, and the wind bore witness to this vulnerable time. This heartbreaking moment where she stood and watched her male break apart before her, piece by slow, agonizing piece.
Yet, she didn’t move.
Not even when her legs began to ache from standing too long, and her waist ached from the strength of his grip. Emeriel didn’t move a muscle because he needed her.
At last, he stirred, his hold loosening as he pulled back.
“Do you feel better?” she asked in a tender tone.
“Very much,” he replied, his eyes soft, a hint of gratitude shining through the pain. “You, Emeriel, are a rare treasure. Thank you for being here.”
“You never need to thank me. Not for that.”
Daemonikai rose to his full height, stretching, then pulled her into his arms again. His lips pressed a gentle, reverent kiss to her forehead.
She closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of it.
“It’s been a long night,” he murmured wearily.
“It has.”
“What do you say we get out of here? Go away from the fortress for a while, just the two of us,” he suggested.
Her brows lifted slightly in surprise, but the idea was instantly appealing. “That sounds heavenly. But… your duties…”
“They can wait. Vladya can manage things for a couple of days. Right now, we need this. Just you and I, leaving the rest of the world behind.”
The simplicity of his words, the honesty in his gaze. It stirred something deep within her. She nodded, her heart swelling with anticipation.
Daemonikai turned his back to her. “Get on.”
She blinked, momentarily confused, but then understanding dawned.
With a shy smile, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders and jumped onto his back.
“Hang on tight."