Serpent Emperor's Bride

Chapter 150: Inheritance of Blood

[Silthara Palace — Two Days Later — Malika’s Office Chamber]

Morning had long passed. Yet within the chamber time bent itself around silence and parchment.

Levin sat upon the low diwan, scrolls layered around him like quiet witnesses. His posture remained composed, but the weight of what he searched...had begun to settle deeper.

At his side, Lyresaph stirred. The small silver dragon shifted closer, his nose brushing—lightly, deliberately—against Levin’s abdomen.

Once and then again.

A slow intent. Across from them, Asha blinked and tilted her head. Then narrowed her eyes at Lyresaph as if silently asking—

’What exactly do you think you are doing?’

Lyresaph ignored her entirely. His blue eyes remained fixed, not on Levin but on what lay within him. He could feel it, the life, the eggs, and the bond.

Levin exhaled softly, his fingers moving to the dragon’s head, brushing gently through the silver scales. "...Let me work, Lyresaph."

Lyresaph blinked once, slow and reluctant. Then, without protest, he settled beside Levin but did not stop watching. Asha huffed, clearly unimpressed. Then she plopped down with a small thud beside them—as if declaring her presence equally important.

Then footsteps approached, measured and refined. Lady Arinaya stepped forward, placing another set of parchments beside Levin with a slight bow, "...Malika...have you found anything?"

Levin did not answer immediately; his gaze remained on the scroll before him. Then—"...Nabuarsh... Was married...at a very young age?"

Arinaya’s brows drew together slightly. She lowered herself to sit—not beside him, never that—but near enough to speak without distance as she said carefully,

"...I do not possess full records of his past, but it is known...he was chosen to be the closest alley of Malik because he already had an Alpha."

Levin’s gaze shifted and sharpened.

"...And he was of the same age as Malik?"

"...I see."

Silence.

"...That explains his position," Levin murmured, leaning back slightly, his fingers tapping once against the parchment. "...An Omega already bonded...placed beside power...without threat."

Arinaya inclined her head.

"...That is how the court perceived it."

Levin’s eyes narrowed faintly. "...And yet...he was appointed just before Zeramet...took the throne."

The air shifted subtly but was real.

Arinaya did not deny it as she said with her voice lowered, "...Yes... Two months before Malik took the throne, he was appointed by the previous Malik himself."

Levin’s gaze dropped, and he mumbled, "By the previous Malik himself, huh? So that means...the previous Malik trusted Naburash?"

Arinaya’s expression changed, not visibly, but something in her voice did.

"I do not know the intention of Previous Malik... but I clearly recall the night, and even the empire remembers," she continued, her tone quieter now—less court, more memory.

"...when the silver serpent rose."

Levin’s fingers stilled as he murmured faintly, "...The news reached even Thalryn...a son who turned his blade upon his own blood."

Arinaya’s gaze lowered as she said, "The news... it spread like fire, Malika, but fire...does not begin without a spark."

Levin’s eyes lifted. "I wonder how his relationship with previous Malik was.... "

Arinaya hesitated not from fear but from the weight of what she was about to say. "...I should not speak of this lightly, Malika..."

"...Then do not speak lightly." Levin’s voice remained calm. "You have my permission to speak the truth."

Silence, and then—Arinaya exhaled. "...The previous Malik...was not a cruel ruler, but he was not a good serpent."

The words settled heavy and measured.

"...He was a capable ruler for Zahryssar," Arinaya said quietly, her voice measured, "but never a worthy husband to the Malika."

A pause followed.

"...He had ten wives," she continued, "...and countless concubines."

Her gaze lowered slightly—not in hesitation, but in acknowledgment of something unpleasantly familiar. "Children...from each of his lawful wives and only one...from a concubine."

Levin’s brows drew faintly. "...Only one?"

Arinaya nodded as she continued, her tone sharpening just slightly, "Yes, and despite knowing that any child born from a concubine is not granted lineage...nor protection."

A brief silence settled.

"They are raised," she continued, "not as heirs...not even as nobles...but as something in between."

Levin’s gaze narrowed.

Arinaya did not look away as she said, her voice lowering, "In Zahryssar, a concubine’s child exists only to serve. Either as attendants to the princes and princesses..."

Her expression hardened, just slightly.

"...or as offerings when the empire demands blood to preserve itself."

Levin stilled. "...A sacrifice?"

The word did not rise—it fell, heavy and unwelcome.

Arinaya inclined her head once. "Yes, Malika."

Silence deepened.

"...You will find it written," she continued, "within the parchments you now study, how tough such lives are spent."

Levin did not respond immediately; he simply looked at her and then—"I see, and what about the previous Malika Seraphal?"

The name lingered.

"She was a daughter of the High Priest and a woman devoted to Lord Urzan and the second Malika, only one who bore the silver serpent."

Levin stared at her, and Arinaya continued, "...It is said...that on the day his egg hatched...the sky itself answered. The sky became beautiful, and we serpents celebrated like a festival. Gold fell like rain. Diamonds scattered across the palace grounds like blessings torn from the heavens."

Silence.

"...The empire rejoiced. "Her gaze lowered. "...But not for a mother."

That shifted something. Levin’s eyes narrowed slightly. "...Why?"

Arinaya’s voice dropped. "...Because she understood...a silver serpent is not born into peace, he is born into survival."

Levin’s fingers tightened slightly against the parchment.

"...She placed a dagger beneath her pillow," Arinaya continued softly. "...not out of fear...but out of certainty, and from the moment Malik could walk...she placed a sword in his hand."

Silence.

"...While other children were taught to speak... Malik was taught to kill."

Levin’s gaze lowered.

"...Not because she was cruel...because she wished him to live. "The words struck deeper than expected. "... And when Malik turned thirteen ..."

Arinaya’s voice faltered—just slightly.

"...she was poisoned by the very man she called husband."

Levin’s breath stilled.

"...The Malik was devastated by the death of the previous Malika, and the next night..." Her gaze lifted. "...Malik ended them all, every prince, every princess, and every rival, and the previous Malik himself."

Silence collapsed into something heavier. Levin leaned back slowly, his gaze distant now but not unfocused.

"...I see."

Two words, but beneath them is an understanding of politics, power, and survival.

"...The empire calls it brutality..." Arinaya murmured. "but perhaps...it was simply inheritance."

Levin said nothing because he understood. Sometimes a crown was not taken. It was survived. His gaze lowered once more to the parchment before him.

"...And Nabuarsh..." he murmured faintly. "...stood beside him...from the beginning of that night."

The question was no longer forming. It was sharpening, and somewhere between a dead mother, a missing prince, and a serpent who rose too perfectly—the truth had begun to take shape.

Levin leaned back slowly, the weight of the parchments no longer in his hands—but in his mind. At his side, Lyresaph shifted closer, nudging against him with quiet insistence. Levin’s hand moved instinctively, fingers gliding across the dragon’s smooth scales.

Lyresaph purred, Soft and low.

"...You feel it too, don’t you?" Levin murmured under his breath.

Across from them, Lady Arinaya watched in silence and then—Levin spoke again calm but no longer distant.

"...He was already married and appointed by the previous Malik himself." His gaze lifted sharp. "...So who was his Alpha?"

That made her still. Arinaya’s brows furrowed, her fingers curling slightly over the edge of the parchment beside her as she spoke, "...That...is the one thing no one ever knew, Malika."

Silence.

"...He was marked early," she continued, voice lowering, "...far earlier than the court permits."

Levin’s eyes narrowed. "He was marked before he turned sixteen?"

Arinaya nodded. "...Yes."

A faint breath left Levin as he murmured, "An hidden bond...Hidden allegiance, then we have been looking at the wrong serpent."

Arinaya’s expression sharpened.

"...Malika?"

Levin leaned forward slightly now with no hesitation. "...Nabuarsh is not the root, he is the extension, his Alpha...is the one we should be hunting."

Arinaya inhaled slowly. "...That...is possible."

Levin’s fingers tapped once against the parchment. "...Not possible...Probable."

He leaned back again. "...Find the Alpha of his and we find the leash."

The words lingered cold and precise.

Arinaya nodded slowly. "...Then we must move carefully."

Levin’s lips curved faintly not in amusement, In understanding. "...Carefully...but not slowly."

His gaze lifted again. "...We cannot use the court for this."

Arinaya already knew why, still, she asked, "...Because the records are compromised?"

"...Because the records are written," Levin replied calmly. "...and written truths are the easiest to control...We need something else."

Arinaya’s voice lowered. "...Shall I...hire someone, Malika?"

Levin did not hesitate. "Not just someone...something beneath ’someone.’ ...An underground serpent, one who does not belong to court...and therefore...cannot be controlled by it."

Silence and then—Arinaya bowed her head. "...I understand."

Levin added, almost as an afterthought, "...Begin with the house he was born into...every servant, every record erased and every whisper buried...I want all of it."

Arinaya rose. "...It will be done, Malika."

And without another word—She turned left. The chamber quieted again and Levin exhaled softly. At his side, Lyresaph shifted again, pressing closer, and then—A small weight landed near his knee.

Asha.

She stared at him expectantly.

Levin blinked once and a faint breath of amusement touched his lips. "...Ah, so you require equal attention."

Asha huffed, as if offended it wasn’t already obvious.

Levin’s hand moved one to Lyresaph and one to Asha. Both creatures stilled beneath his touch, satisfied. For a moment the chamber softened to warm, quiet and almost peaceful.

But only for a moment because elsewhere within the same palace—Nabuarsh stood in shadow, still, silent and waiting.

And this time—The strike he prepared would not be subtle. It would not fail and when it came—It would not only threaten the Malika. It would reach for the life...growing within him.