Serpent Emperor's Bride

Chapter 157: The Plan that Succeeded?

[Silthara Palace — Malika’s Private Bath Chamber — The Next Morning]

Morning did not arrive loudly. It seeped through carved lattice and silken curtains that stirred with a breath too gentle to be noticed, soft and deceptive because within these walls danger had already awakened.

Steam rose from the imperial bath in slow, curling veils. Fragrant oils shimmered across the water’s surface; fine powders rested beside folded cloth, untouched, perfect, and waiting.

At the far end, Levin stood before the mirror, robes draped loosely over his form untied as his gaze lowered to himself and to the subtle curve beneath silk.

His fingers moved slowly, resting against his abdomen.

"...It has begun to show." The words barely left his lips: not fear, not wonder, but recognition.

His hands lingered there longer than needed as if searching for something beyond sight.

Then—Knock.

"Malika... I am entering." Iru’s voice came through the door.

Levin’s hand dropped as his robe was tied swiftly and controlled.

"...Enter."

The door opened and Iru stepped in, head lowered, hands steady, carrying the prepared bath powders. He placed them beside the basin with quiet precision.

"...The bath is ready, Malika."

Levin nodded faintly. "...Thank you, Iru. You may leave now."

Iru bowed and then withdrew. The door closed, and once again silence returned. Levin untied the robe letting the fabric fall slightly from his shoulders—preparing to step forward—

"Consort," the voice cut through the quiet.

Levin stilled, and slowly he turned. The doors parted once more, and Zeramet entered. Clad in imperial attire—gold-threaded, immaculate, prepared for court—yet his presence was not.

He walked forward measured and unhurried and stopped before Levin.

"...Why are you here, Zer?" Levin asked quietly.

Zeramet did not answer immediately; his gaze lingered, tracing and confirming that Levin stood before him, safe and untouched here.

A faint smile curved his lips. "...I just missed you, my moonflower."

Levin held his gaze still and silent, but within, a thought formed. ’Why do I feel like he came to check, to see if I was still here.’

Zeramet’s hand lifted his thumb, brushing lightly against Levin’s cheek, familiar and gentle.

"...I must attend court," he murmured. "...Or I would not have left your side."

Levin did not lean into the touch, nor did he pull away. He only watched him carefully. ’So my thoughts are right. He fears I will leave again.’

A faint breath left him.

"...I will not leave the palace." His voice remained calm, but the words carried weight. "...Not without your knowledge again."

Silence.

Zeramet stilled completely. His hand paused, still resting against Levin’s skin but no longer moving. Their gazes locked and this time It was not warmth or softness but something else, something sharper and something unsettled.

"...You believe..." Zeramet spoke slowly—"...that I came here to watch you?"

Levin did not answer immediately

Then—"... Did you not?"

The question did not accuse, but it did not soften either, and just like that, this time silence stretched long and heavy.

Zeramet’s expression shifted to not anger, not entirely, but something quieter and something struck.

"...I came—" He began then stopped because the truth did not shape easily into words.

A breath left him.

"...I came because I could not leave without seeing you."

Levin’s gaze did not break, and he looked at him long. As if weighing something unspoken between them, and then slowly his lashes lowered.

"...I apologize." The words came out quiet, not forced but not easy either.

Zeramet exhaled a breath that carried more than it should.

"...I should not have come."

That struck deeper than anger would have. Levin’s hand stilled at his side, fingers tightening and clenching.

’Why... did I think that? Why did I answer him like that...?’

A flicker of regret is sharp and unwelcome. Before he could speak, Zeramet had already turned.

"...Take your bath." His voice returned to something controlled and distant. "...The court cannot wait."

And just like that, he walked away and the doors closed, and this time Levin did not follow, and silence remained—but it no longer felt the same.

He stood there for a moment longer.

"...I should have..." The words faded before they could form, and then he moved slowly toward the bath.

Steam curled upward, soft, warm, and unaware. Levin stepped into the pool-sized bath, carefully lowering himself into the water.

A faint breath left him.

"...It will pass..."

His gaze drifted unfocused, still caught between thought and regret, then his hand reached toward the bath powder.

He lifted it, but his mind was not there, not fully, and so his grip faltered and the container slipped.

FLOP.

Powder scattered across the floor, fine, white, and silent.

Levin blinked—"Why am I this careless today?"

He rose from the bathwater trailing from his skin, stepping forward to gather it.

***

[Elsewhere — The Corridor]

Lyresaph froze midstep as he was licking his paws; his blue eyes sharpened—something unseen and something wrong reached him.

A pulse of a disturbance, not scent, not sound, but the instinct of mate law. His body tensed and then he moved fast.

Too fast.

Behind him Asha startled, then immediately followed, and both creatures rushed toward one place.

***

[Corridor — Moments Later]

Zeramet walked through the hall measured and composed but not untouched. His thoughts still lingered behind him with Levin, and then he saw them.

Lyresaph rushing past. Asha close behind urgent and unusual.

Zeramet’s brows furrowed.

"...Why are they—"

And then he stilled. Something in that movement was not normal.

***

[Bath Chamber — The Same Moment]

Levin bent slightly, reaching toward the scattered powder, unaware and unknowing, but before he could, the door—SLAM—!! It burst open.

Lyresaph surged inside—a flash of silver—a roar—and then he leaped straight toward Levin.

"Lyresaph—?!"

Levin had no time and no space. The force was unexpected; his footing was unstable, and his heel slipped on water, and everything shifted.

"—!"

And then he fell, not violently but wrongly. His body tilted, striking the water unevenly. A sharp breath tore from him—

"...Ah—!"

His hand instinctively moved to his abdomen, and the pain formed not deep but sudden enough. Lyresaph landed beside him agitated, roaring low and circling. Asha rushed in next, growling and protective.

The bathwater rippled violently, breaking the stillness. Levin remained still for a moment; his breath was uneven. Hand pressed against him.

"...What... was—" His voice faltered not from fear but from the shock.

Lyresaph pressed closer, insistent and almost desperate. As if trying to keep him away from something unseen and from something already too close.

The danger had not struck clean, but it had moved, and now—everything would change

Zeramet arrived, not walking. Not measured but rushing. The doors struck open against stone—BANG —!

Steam scattered, water trembled, and there he saw him, Levin half-submerged—collapsed against the edge of the bath, his body curled slightly, one hand pressed tight against his abdomen, his breath uneven and broken.

"...Consort—!"

Zeramet was beside him in an instant, no hesitation and no thought. His hands reached, pulling Levin up from the water carefully but urgently.

A robe was seized, wrapped around him, shielding and holding. "Hold on to me, consort...I will not let anything happen to you."

Levin’s fingers clutched at him, weak and trembling.

"Zer—..." His voice broke, soft and panicked. "...it hurts..."

His breath hitched—

"...it hurts so much..." His grip tightened against Zeramet’s robes—"...our child..."

That shattered what remained of control. Zeramet’s expression darkened—not rage, not yet, but something deeper with a raw, immediate fear.

"...No." His voice dropped, firm and unyielding. "...Look at me."

His hand moved to Levin’s face, steadying him.

"...Look at me, consort." Levin’s eyes struggled to focus, pain clouding them, but they found him. "...Nothing will happen."

Zeramet said each word deliberately and anchoringly. "...Do you hear me, consort?...nothing will happen."

Levin’s breath trembled—"but...it hurts... I think they are...gone."

Zeramet’s hold tightened, pulling him closer, supporting him fully now. "No consort, nothing will happen, I promise. I know it must hurt, but believe me, nothing will happen."

Zeramet’s voice softened but did not weaken. "...I am here and I won’t let anything happen to you

His gaze lifted, sharp and deadly.

"—PHYSICIAN!" The command tore through the chamber, not spoken but unleashed. "—CALL Naram—NOW!"

Footsteps scrambled outside, panic rising; servants rushed, doors opened, and shouts echoed, but within the chamber—nothing mattered—except him.

Zeramet adjusted his hold, lifting Levin fully into his arms, careful and precise. As if holding something fragile and irreplaceable.

"...Stay with me." He murmured low; this time it was not a command, not a demand, not pleading.

Levin’s head fell slightly against his shoulder, his breath uneven—

"...Zer..." A faint whisper. "...it’s...hurting..."

Zeramet’s jaw tightened, his grip firm and unshaking. "...It will stop...I will make it stop."

His gaze darkened dangerously because somewhere beneath the fear something else had begun to rise, cold, merciless, and unforgiving.

’Whoever did this will not live to regret it.’

And as footsteps rushed closer as the palace stirred into chaos. Zeramet did not move from where he stood, holding Levin and anchoring him as if the world itself would break if he let go.