King Liam – POV
Lady Esme was unconscious in my arms, her body light but limp as I carried her bridal-style down the aisle. The cheers hit me like a wave—"Congratulations on your wedding!"—like any of that meant a damn thing right now. The reception could wait. Esme needed a doctor.
The second I stepped into her chambers, healers were already lined up, waiting. I laid her down gently on the bed, stepping back as they got to work, glowing magic pouring from their hands to stabilize her body.
"Your Majesty, we ask that you leave the room," said Doctor Lufer, the head of the team.
I didn't move. "Why? So you can let her die too? Like the other nine brides after the ritual?"
Doctor Lufer flinched at that. Good. Let him feel it.
"You may stay, Your Majesty," he said, jaw clenched. "But don't blame us. The others… Their bodies were too weak to handle your powers. That's not on us."
He turned back to his team, ignoring the way my fists clenched. I stayed. I didn't leave like I did before. I don't know why—maybe because this time feels different. Or maybe I'm just too damn tired of running.
Esme whimpered in her unconscious state, her body trembling against the bedsheets. Was she strong enough to handle me? My power? Or would she shatter like the rest?
An hour passed, maybe more. Time blurred. Finally, Doctor Lufer stepped away, wiping sweat from his brow.
"She's alive—for now," he said, looking at me. "But I don't know for how long. A year, maybe, if she's lucky. That's just my guess."
A cold silence settled in my chest. "I see. Thank you."
He and the rest of the team left. I just stood there, staring at her, this woman who might survive the thing that killed nine before her. The thing that killed Cecily.
I needed air.
Outside, the halls were quieter. I turned a corner and found Ethan waiting.
"You look like hell," he said, then paused when my eyes narrowed. He sighed. "I was just coming to ask… Should we still go through with the reception?"
"Yes," I said.
"She made it?" he asked, brows raised.
"For now," I muttered. "They gave her a year."
Ethan exhaled, slowly. "You're the last Faye with dragon blood, Liam. It's not exactly easy finding a compatible mate. But maybe… maybe there's hope this time."
"I'm done hoping," I snapped. "I've already killed nine women looking for a mate who can bear an heir. I won't sit through another round of council lectures if this one dies too."
I punched the wall, hard. The stone cracked under my fist.
Ethan flinched but didn't back away. "Liam, just take it one day at a time. Don't overthink it. Also, Lady Esme's family won't be coming to the reception."
I smirked. "No surprise. Outsiders can't stomach our rituals. They're terrified of our power. Honestly, it's better that way. Keeps the riffraff out of Eastbrone. No bandits dare come near us."
Ethan's face softened. "Just… be gentle with her, Liam. Show her some warmth. Maybe things will change."
"You know I can't do that," I said. The memory hit hard—Cecily, her lifeless body, the blood on my hands. I lost her because of this damned ritual. I didn't even know I was the reason. The priest never told me. The council hid the truth. I killed every last one of them when I found out. I swore I'd never love again. Cecily was it. My only.
I started walking back to my chambers but paused outside Lady Esme's room. Should I stay? Just watch over her?
A strange pull tugged at my chest. Something was off. I stepped inside.
That's when I saw him—an assassin, creeping toward her bed with a glowing magic dagger in hand. Our eyes locked.
"Who the hell are you?" I growled.
He didn't answer, so I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground.
"Talk. Now."
He struggled, gasping. "I… I can't… say my master's name…"
I squeezed tighter. "Then die."
A flash of magic burst in my face, blinding me. I stumbled, my grip loosening just enough for the bastard to break free. He lunged for Esme's bed.
No.
I drew my sword and plunged it straight into his back. He dropped, lifeless.
Who the hell sent him? Why target Esme? Is it because she's my wife now? Were the other nine really victims of me—or were they eliminated?
I called the guards to drag the body away. Told the maids to clean up the blood.
Then I sat beside her bed, gripping the armrest.
I can't trust anyone. Not anymore.
And until I know what's going on, I'm not leaving her side.