19. Blood of Two Worlds
BLOOD OF TWO WORLDS
The truth slammed into him like a blow to the chest.
His dagger slipped from his fingers, clattering against the stone with a metallic echo that seemed to shake the chamber. The sound tore through the room like a death knell, rattling every person in it to the marrow.
And the mighty Silver Fox, the Awyan Lord who had destroyed empires, toppled dynasties, rewritten bloodlines in fire and steel, fell to his knees.
He knelt before Kalemon, eyes wide, chest heaving like he had been gutted.
For once, he said nothing. He had no words, no fury or breath left in his lungs.
His hands dangled at his sides, bloodied, trembling, useless.
He stared.
Stared like the world had just been torn apart and rebuilt into a configuration he could not comprehend.
The realization crashed over him in waves. The child he had spent months believing was proof of her betrayal, when all along it was proof of the impossible.
His son.
Her son.
Theirs.
His stomach turned violently. He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth, bile rising in his throat.
What had he done? What had he almost done?
At that moment, the crowd outside finally shifted. Leira pushed her way through, her red scarf snapping behind her as she stepped into the ruined birthing chamber. She did not flinch at the sight of her son on his knees, did not hesitate despite the carnage.
Her boots crunched over splintered wood as she came up behind him, her gaze dropping to the bundle in Kalemon's arms.
She froze.
Her entire body went rigid, as though she'd been struck by lightning. Her mouth fell open, eyes going impossibly wide. For the first time in decades, Leira's composure shattered completely.
"No." The word came out strangled, disbelieving. "No, that's... that's not possible."
Her hands flew to her mouth, trembling violently. She took a step closer, then another, moving like she was in a trance. Her eyes never left the baby.
"Awyans and Canariae cannot—" Her voice cracked. "We have tried for centuries. It cannot be done."
But the evidence was undeniable.
Leira's knees shook slightly. She caught herself against the bedpost, one hand pressed to her chest as though her heart might stop. "I'm... I'm a grandmother."
The words came out in a whisper, awed and broken.
And the hallway erupted.
Gasps. Sudden intakes of breath. The sound of someone stumbling backward. A woman's voice crying out in disbelief.
"Did she say?—"
"A grandmother?"
"The child is Malec's?"
"Impossible!"
"The Canariae... she bore him a child?"
"The gods have broken their own laws!"
Surian pushed through the doorway, her face already streaked with tears. She took in the scene—Malec on his knees, the baby crying in Kalemon's arms, Luko crumpled against the wall and her hand flew to her mouth.
Her eyes locked on the bundle in Kalemon's arms, then on her brother's shattered expression, then back to the baby.
"Malec?" Her voice broke on his name. "Is it... is it truly...?"
Then she saw Luko. A sob tore from her throat as she rushed to him, dropping to her knees beside his unconscious form. Her hands fluttered over him, checking for injuries, finding the blood matting his hair where his head had struck the wall.
"No, no, no," she whispered, grabbing a clean cloth and pressing it gently to the wound. "Luko, please. Please wake up."
His head lolled to the side, limp and unresponsive.
Behind her, Surin stepped through the doorway, his pale blue eyes sweeping the room. His gaze landed on the child, and his usually unreadable expression cracked. His jaw went slack, shoulders sagged.
Kalemon, still cradling the crying infant, looked down at Malec kneeling before her. Her expression was hard, unforgiving.
"This is what you almost murdered," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Your own son."
Malec didn't respond. Couldn't. He just stared at the baby, his face a mask of horror and dawning comprehension. Everything he had believed. Everything he had done. The rage, the pursuit, the violence he had unleashed on Allora.
All of it built on a lie he had told himself.
She hadn't betrayed him.
She had carried his miracle.
And he had nearly destroyed them both.
"Let me hold him." Malec's voice was barely a whisper, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. He remained on his knees before Kalemon, his hands reaching up, trembling. Kalemon's arms tightened instinctively, cradling the infant close to her chest. Her eyes narrowed, her stance firm.
"No!"
Malec stilled. He looked up at the woman he had once thought was a threat, the Canariae he had once sworn to kill for aiding Allora's escape, and now she was the one he owed everything to.
"I won't harm him," he said, his voice low, stripped bare.
For once there was no venom or arrogance.
Only truth. "He's mine." His gaze drifted to the baby's curled ear, to the soft, downy silver hair that gleamed in the torchlight.
"There's no doubt." He swallowed hard, his throat working against the burn rising within him.
"The power he wielded before he was even born...
I felt it. The barrier, and defiance. Only my blood would fight that hard to protect her.
" There was pride in his voice now, an acknowledgment of blood, his blood, running through the veins of this little being sleeping in the healer’s arms.
His breath faltered as his eyes stung. He blinked quickly, as though the moisture there was foreign, an enemy he did not know how to battle.
"And I almost..."
Kalemon studied him, weighing his confession. The whole world seemed to hinge on her verdict.
Before she could respond, Leira's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"You knew." She turned on Allora's almost unconscious form, her voice cutting with accusation. "You knew this whole time he was of my blood and never told me?"
Allora stirred faintly, her eyelids fluttering open at the shrill high pitch of Leira’s voice piercing through the quiet of the room. She tried to push herself up, one hand scrabbling weakly at the bloodstained sheets, but her body refused. Her strength was gone.
Her lips curled into a crooked, defiant smile.
And with a trembling hand, slick with sweat and blood, she slowly lifted her middle finger toward Leira. Then her head lolled back against the pillows one last time and her eyes rolled shut as consciousness fled and passed out completely.
Every ear in the room felt it — the sudden, crushing lack of noise.
Then Kalemon's voice erupted, furious. "You have the audacity to accuse her? You kidnapped her! You kept her prisoner in your estate and forced her to give birth while she was terrified and alone!"
Leira's eyes flashed. "I protected her! I gave her shelter, food, physicians?—"
"You used her as a pawn!" Kalemon shot back. "You were going to hand her over to him like a trophy, or worse, keep her locked away until it suited your schemes!"
"She was carrying my grandchild?—"
"She was dying! Your midwives forced labor on her weeks too early, pumped her full of poison to induce contractions her body wasn't ready for. If I hadn't been here, you would have killed them both!"
Leira's mouth opened, then closed. For once, she had no retort.
Kalemon turned away quickly, her jaw tight with rage. She crossed to where Luko sat against the wall, Surian kneeling beside him with a strip of linen wrapped around his head, covering the wound from where Malec had thrown him into the stone.
"Can you stand?" Kalemon asked him.
Luko nodded, his face pale but determined. Surian helped him to his feet, steadying him with a hand on his arm.
Kalemon pressed the baby into Luko's arms. "You're the only one in this room with a stable heart rate. Hold him. And try not to faint."
Luko blinked, startled, still hovering somewhere between shock and awe. His hands shook as he took the bundle, holding the baby like he was spun from glass.
"Yes, of course," he stammered, his voice breaking into a reverent hush.
He looked down, his face softening, tears glistening in his eyes. "Oh... you are beautiful, little storm."
Kalemon turned immediately back to the bed, moving to Allora's side. Her hands worked quickly, checking her pulse, her breathing, lifting her eyelids to check her pupils.
"She's lost too much blood," Kalemon muttered. "I need herbs, clean water, and someone who isn't useless."
Leira moved closer to Luko, drawn to the infant like a moth to flame. Her eyes locked on the baby's face, drinking in every detail.
Surian stepped up beside Luko, peering down at the tiny bundle. Her tears had stopped, replaced by wonder. Her hand lifted, trembling, and gently touched the baby's silver curls.
"He's perfect," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Malec, he's perfect."
Malec remained on his knees, staring at his son in Luko's arms. The baby's cries had softened to small, hiccupping sounds.
Around him, the room had come alive with murmurs and gasps.
Leira hovered near Luko, her eyes never leaving the infant.
Surian stood beside them, tears streaming down her face as she touched the baby's tiny hand.
Soldiers and servants crowded the doorway, craning their necks to see the miracle child.
But Malec couldn't move. Couldn't think. He just stared, paralyzed by the enormity of what he had almost done.
Then he heard it.
A shallow, rattling breath from the bed behind him.
Allora.
His head snapped around. Kalemon knelt beside the bed, her hands moving quickly over Allora's body, checking her pulse, lifting her eyelids, pressing against her abdomen. Her expression was grim.
"She's lost too much blood," Kalemon muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
That woke him.