Chapter CXXXIX: Kai
Isabella's breath caught as she looked up at him, noticing for the first time the blood trickling from his nose, his ears, and even his eyes. Panic flared in her chest.
"Alaric," she whispered, her voice trembling, "you’re bleeding."
He wiped his face absently with the back of his hand, his expression calm despite the crimson streaks left behind. "I'm fine," he said, though the weakness in his eyes betrayed him. "It’s nothing. We need to get out of here before the smoke overwhelms us."
Isabella, still clutching their newborn, pushed herself to her feet, her body trembling with the effort. She could barely stand after the intense labor, but the adrenaline rushing through her gave her the strength she needed. She took one more look at the burning room—at the bodies of those who had conspired against her—and her mind swirled with disbelief and relief.
Alaric reached for her, pulling her close to him, his hand lingering protectively on her waist. "Come," he urged softly, "we have to go."
Isabella leaned against him, still processing what had just happened, but trusting him enough to follow his lead.
With their child held securely in her arms, and Alaric guiding her through the smoke-filled corridors, they made their way out of the throne room—away from the flames and toward whatever awaited them beyond the ashes of her enemies.
Alaric gently lowered Isabella onto the bed, ensuring she and their newborn were settled safely. Isabella, still in shock, looked at him, her voice low but intense. "What the fuck was that?" she asked, the recent events swirling in her mind.
Alaric took her hand, his expression a blend of relief and exhaustion. "For months now, I’ve been tracking down every single one of your opposers in the council, looking for anyone who plotted against you," he explained. "You knew something was wrong and so did I. I wanted to dismantle their schemes from within, and I didn’t want you to worry about it."
Isabella’s eyes widened in disbelief, mixed with a spark of anger. "Why didn’t you tell me?" she asked, almost scolding. "You knew I was suspicious, you knew I could sense something was wrong this entire time! You should have told me!"
Alaric squeezed her hand gently, looking down at their child, who lay peacefully between them. "You were right, Isabella. But you were also sick and carrying our child, and I knew how much that took from you. I couldn’t risk you taking matters into your own hands with everything you were dealing with—so I acted as your spy, from the shadows, but I couldn’t tell you. I needed you to rest and focus on the baby. Hargrave made a last-minute decision to arrest you in your childbed, so I had to improvise."
Isabella studied him, still processing everything. "How did you do it? How did you manage to summon Massin like that—how did you survive the fire?" Her voice softened, remembering the way his eyes had changed. "I saw you… I saw your eyes."
Alaric managed a faint smile. "My little secret," he said. "I can control the dragons, through sight, mind, and spirit. I see through their eyes, I command them… One day, Ikkar will be able to do the same."
Isabella’s expression shifted from astonishment to awe. "That’s… that’s incredible."
"It’s also quite painful," Alaric admitted, his smile fading. "It drains me, and it nearly kills me every time. There’s a reason I don’t do it just for fun… It’s a very dangerous spell."
She looked at him with newfound understanding, the image of him standing, seemingly invulnerable to the flames, etched into her mind. "But I saw you in the fire. You didn’t burn."
"Oh, I did," he replied. Alaric’s expression softened as he gently unbuttoned the charred remnants of his coat, revealing a raw, angry burn along the side of his left arm. "I was just quick enough to dodge most of the fire—but not all of it, unfortunately."
Isabella’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm. "You’re hurt! You need a healer..."
But Alaric only looked at her, his gaze somber. "I’m sorry, Isabella. Sorry for all of this… You were never supposed to go through this."
She leaned toward him, her voice softer now. "Alaric, I’m fine… our baby is fine. We both survived, and you saved us." She reached out, her hand brushing over his. "We should clean our wounds and talk after we’ve rested."
Alaric sighed in relief, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.
"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes lingering on his. "For keeping your promises.”
Isabella sat back against the pillows, watching her newborn son feed peacefully at her breast for the first time. Her maids cleaned and dressed her while the baby fed, removing the traces of blood and exhaustion, and now she felt a wave of calm, a relief that washed over her like a gentle tide. The memory of the last few minutes—of traitors attempting to arrest her, Alaric’s supposed betrayal, walking minutes after giving birth, the terrifying moment Massin broke through the throne room windows—all began to fade, leaving only a soft, glowing gratitude for this moment of peace.
The door creaked open, and she looked up to see Alaric entering, carrying little Rya in one arm and holding Ikkar’s hand with his bandaged arm. Alicent followed, gently placing Zayr onto Alaric’s knee as he sat beside Isabella, while Ikkar scrambled onto the edge of the bed. Isabella's heart swelled, looking around at the family she had dreamed of, all gathered close to her. For this brief moment, there was no danger, no betrayal—just them, together in peace.
Smiling, she turned to her older children, her gaze warm. “This is your brother,” she said softly, introducing her newborn son. She glanced at Alaric, a question in her eyes. “What shall we name him after all?”
Alaric’s gaze softened as he looked down at their baby. “Kai,” he said quietly. “It means ‘brave’ in the old tongue.”
Isabella’s eyes sparkled as she repeated the name, letting it settle around them. “Kai,” she murmured. “It’s perfect. He’s indeed been very brave today.”
Alaric looked at her, his eyes filled with a rare tenderness. “Just like his mother,” he replied.
Isabella’s smile deepened, and she rested her head back against the headboard, her heart full. “For a long time, I feared I would never live to see this moment,” she admitted softly. “But deep down, I held onto a thread of hope that we would all be together like this, as a family.”
Alaric reached for her hand, his fingers warm over hers. “Thank you, my love,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“For what?” she asked, a soft curiosity in her eyes.
“For bringing them into this world, for making me their father,” he whispered. “It’s the highest honor of my life…”
In that moment, as they sat surrounded by the beautiful chaos of their family, it felt as though every hardship and heartache had led them to this point, to this haven of peace they had fought so hard for. And Isabella, holding her new son close, felt a sense of fulfillment she had long yearned for, knowing her family was together… In peace.
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