<h4>Chapter 238: Do You Understand?</h4>


    "I am not the king anymore," he said. "I am a member of the council now, and soon I will retire to Silver City. Do you understand? My power is not what it once was. My reach is not what it once was. What am I supposed to do to help them? Issue decrees they will ignore? Only you can help them, Damien. Only you."


    He took another step closer, his eyes boring into his son’s. "So for the goddess’s sake, tell me where the girl is. Do what you have to do to save your wife’s life. Your child’s life. And yours."


    Damien turned to face Lucivar fully then. His eyes, still bloodshot, locked onto his father’s with defiance. "You mean...give in to the bond?"


    "Yes." The single word was inevitable.


    Damien’s chest rose and fell with a deep, shaking breath. "I love Luna, Father," he said, each syble thick with conviction. "Beyond our bond. Beyond whatever magic Morvakar wove when he bound our souls together." He took a step forward, as if proximity could make Lucivar understand the depth of it. "I cannot breathe without her. She is my life. Do you understand that? She is the first thought when I wake, thest before I close my eyes. She is not just my queen—she is home." His jaw tightened, and the next words came low and bitter. "How will I look at her if I also ache for another woman when I give in to that bond?"


    Lucivar stepped forward too, closing the gap, his shadow falling across his son’s face. "True love always conquers all," he said. "I am not asking you to love this other woman. I am asking you to survive." His gaze sharpened, cutting through Damien’s resistance. "So please... I am begging you — for your wife, for your child, for me, for your people — tell me where she is. This ’true mate’ doesn’t threaten Luna’s position." He paused, holding Damien’s gaze as if to brand the truth into him. "Luna will always be your queen. This new girl... is nothing but a royal concubine."


    The words tasted like ash in Damien’s mouth, and his eyes narrowed. "Nothing but?" he repeated, the dangerous edge in his tone warning that the conversation was veering into treacherous waters.


    "I promised my wife," Damien continued, "that she would always be the only one to bear my mark." His hand absently brushed over his own neck. "That promise is not a thing I made lightly."


    "From what I hear," he said carefully, "your wife will do anything for you to live — including watching you be with another woman if that’s what it takes."


    Lucivar pressed on. "Besides," he continued, "I promise to help you fight the bond after. I promise. If I have to live in the same house with you to keep you from her once this... necessity is done, I will. You said so yourself — your bond with Luna is greater."


    "Then believe in the power of that love, son. It can survive this."


    "Father..." Damien dragged a hand through his hair. His chest rose sharply, like every breath was a decision.


    "Please, Damien. Please..." Lucivar’s eyes searched Damien’s face as if looking for the crack where reason could slip in.


    Damien turned, and his gaze fell on the bed. There, half tangled in the sheets he’d left rumpled,y Luna’s scarf. It was still faintly warm, as though her presence clung to it, and when he picked it up, his fingers curled around it like it was thest tether keeping him from shattering.


    He held it to his face for a second, inhaling. Her scent punched through him so sharply that his jaw clenched. When he turned back to Lucivar, the scarf was still wrapped tightly in his fist.


    "Get this to Morvakar," Damien said. "He says he can find her."


    Lucivar’s throat tightened. He could not yet tell his son that Luna was already in safe hands. Because if Damien knew, if the fear for her life no longer pressed against his ribs, there was every chance he would refuse to go through with the mating — and then all of this would be for nothing. So he swallowed the truth, a bitter thing, and nodded.


    "I will," Lucivar said. His hand half lifted toward his son but dropped back to his side. "But tell me where she is."


    Damien hesitated — just long enough for Lucivar to see the stubborn tilt of his jaw. Finally, he exhaled through his nose. "Luna had her stashed in her old building. She works in the royal guards’ kitchen. Her name is Isolde." The name left his lips like a reluctant confession, weighted with the knowledge of what it meant.


    Lucivar’s eyes flickered with relief and urgency in equal measure. "Thank you. Thank you, son. Thank you." He pulled Damien into a fierce hug thatsted just a second. When he stepped back, he bunched the scarf in his palm, as though he’d crush the material into his own skin if it meant moving faster, then turned sharply toward the door.


    He didn’t give Damien a chance to rethink it. He moved quickly down the corridor to where Eryk waited. Orders came in clipped bursts — urgent, final — before he strode away.


    *****


    Luna sat cross-legged on the edge of the narrow bed, her son lying by her side, his small hand curled around her fingers. She stared at the far wall, though her eyes weren’t seeing it. They were seeing memories. They were seeing the moments she’d sworn to protect him.


    And now she was waiting.


    Waiting for Kyllian to receive the message Morvakar had sent. Waiting for the moment she would have to let go.


    This moment, right here, for any mother, would have to qualify as the most heartbreaking in existence — to choose willingly to send her only child to be tortured. To know that she was walking him toward what might be his death and still not stop.


    Luna’s heart cried even before her tears did. They came hot and unrelenting, slipping down her cheeks in rivulets she didn’t bother to hide. Her chest ached with every breath, as if her ribs were too tight to contain the storm inside her. She held her son’s tiny hands in both of hers, thumbs stroking over soft knuckles, memorising every curve, every warmth.