Chapter 62: Not the Only Neglectful Parent

The throne room had gone very, very quiet.

Karina sat frozen on her throne, her fingers curling around the armrests hard. The words echoed in her skull like a slap she hadn’t seen coming.

I want my son.

Not I want to discuss the annulment.

Not I want to negotiate terms.

I want my son.

She stared at Zarek, her red eyes narrowing. The man before her looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

And yet here he was. Making demands.

About Soren.

Karina’s jaw tightened. A muscle in her cheek twitched. She could feel the rage building in her chest, hot and irrational, because she knew she had no real claim to outrage here. Zarek was Soren’s father. Of course he wanted to see his son. Of course he cared about the boy’s safety after word of the assassination attempt had spread across the continent like wildfire.

But logic had nothing to do with the fury boiling in her veins.

Because the old Karina had spent years watching this man ignore his own child. Had watched him go years without so much as a letter, a visit, a single acknowledgment that his son even existed.

And now, now, when it was convenient for him, when there was drama and danger and something to be gained, he suddenly wanted to play the concerned father?

Absolutely not.

"Let me make sure I understand you correctly," Karina said. She rose from the throne slowly, letting her full height register as she stepped down from the dais. "You—" she pointed at Zarek, her finger trembling, "—the man who has not visited, who has not written, who has not so much as asked about the boy’s wellbeing until this very moment—you want me to hand him over?"

Zarek’s expression didn’t change. "Yes."

"Yes," Karina repeated, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. "You say that like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you have any right to make that demand."

"I am his father."

"You are a stranger," Karina hissed, stepping closer. "You are nothing to him. Less than nothing. He doesn’t even know you, Zarek. He knows the concept of you. The shadow of you. The absence of you. But the actual man? The father who was supposed to love him, protect him, raise him? That man doesn’t exist in Soren’s world. You made sure of that."

Something flickered in Zarek’s eyes. "I am aware of my failures."

"Are you?" Karina’s voice dripped with venom. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve only just remembered you have a son. And the only reason you’ve remembered now is because someone tried to kill Valen, and you realized your own child might be next. This is about your legacy. About the heir you suddenly remembered you need."

"That is not—"

"Don’t." Karina held up a hand, cutting him off. "Don’t you dare stand there and pretend this is about anything other than your own selfish interests. I have dealt with two of you now. Two arrogant, entitled, emotionally stunted beast kings who think the world revolves around them. I am tired of it. I am tired of men who ignore their children until it becomes politically convenient to care. I am tired of fathers who treat their sons like pawns in a game they’re not even playing well."

She stopped a few feet from Zarek.

"If you want to discuss Soren’s safety, we can do that. If you want to discuss terms for the annulment, we can do that too. But if you think for one second that you can walk in here and make demands about my son, you are wrong."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Corvin shifted uncomfortably behind his king, his dark eyes darting between the two rulers. He looked like a man who desperately wished he could be anywhere else. Anywhere at all. Perhaps back in the wheat field. Perhaps in a completely different kingdom.

Zarek, to his credit, didn’t look away. He held Karina’s gaze, those unsettling serpentine eyes fixed on her face, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, slowly, he inclined his head. Just a fraction. Just enough to acknowledge her words without fully conceding.

"I understand," he said. "You have every right to your anger. I have not been... present. I have not been... what he needed."

"No," Karina agreed coldly. "You haven’t."

"But," Zarek continued, a stubborn set to his jaw, "I am still his father. Nothing changes that. Not time. Not distance. Not your anger. I will see him. I will ensure he is safe. And no matter what you try, I will not leave this palace without seeing my son."

Karina stared at him.

Ugh.

Karina gritted her teeth. Her hands were still clenched at her sides, her entire body trembling with the effort of holding back the scream building in her throat. She wanted to throw him out. She wanted to have Aldric drag him back to whatever frozen swamp he had crawled out of. She wanted to—

She took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out slowly.

You are the Empress, she reminded herself. You are a mother. You are not a tyrant. You do not deny a child access to their parent just because you hate the parent.

Even if the parent was a neglectful, emotionally constipated serpent who had ignored his son for three years.

Even if the parent made her want to scream.

Don’t forget the old Karina was just as neglectful. And besides, his only true crime or fault was being neglectful.

He’s nothing like Leonidas and Drystan who paraded mistresses around without a care for her feelings.

"Aldric," Karina said, without taking her eyes off Zarek.

The general stepped forward from his post near the doors. "Your Imperial Majesty?"

"Go and fetch Prince Soren."

Aldric’s expression flickered, surprise, concern, and a flash of protective anger, all quickly masked. "Are you certain about this, Your Majesty?"

"No," Karina admitted. "But I am not going to be the kind of woman who uses a child as a bargaining chip. Soren deserves to know his father. Even if his father is a—" She caught herself, her jaw clenching. "Even if his father has a lot to answer for."

Aldric hesitated. His blue eyes searched her face, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that she might change her mind. Finding none, he gave a curt nod.

"At once, Your Majesty."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the throne room, his heavy boots echoing against the marble floor. The doors swung shut behind him with a loud thud, leaving Karina and Zarek alone in the vast chamber.

Well. Not entirely alone. Corvin was still there, hovering awkwardly near the wall, looking like a man who had just realized he was standing in a room with two angry rulers and no escape route.

The silence stretched. Thin. Taut. Like a wire about to snap.

Karina returned to her throne and sat down, her spine rigid, her hands folded in her lap. She didn’t look at Zarek. She didn’t speak. She just waited, every muscle in her body coiled tight, every nerve ending screaming with a fury that wanted to be let out.

Zarek, for his part, simply stood there.

Ten minutes, Karina thought. Ten minutes until Aldric returns with Soren. Ten minutes until I have to watch my baby face the father who abandoned him.

The minutes ticked by like hours.

And Karina waited.

~

The doors swung open.

Karina’s heart lurched into her throat, her entire body going rigid as General Aldric stepped back into the throne room. His arms were full, cradled carefully against his broad chest was a small, squirming bundle of dark scales and wide, frightened eyes.

Soren.

The three-year-old snake cub was wrapped in a soft blue blanket, curling nervously around Aldric’s forearm, his little forked tongue flickering in and out as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. His enormous eyes darted around the room with panic.

Karina’s heart melted immediately.

She rose from the throne, her earlier fury momentarily forgotten, replaced by the overwhelming urge to hold her baby. A genuine smile broke across her face.

"Soren," she breathed, stepping forward with her arms already opening.

Aldric approached her, his expression gentler than she had ever seen it, and carefully began to transfer the small bundle into her waiting arms.

"Here you are, Your Imperial Majesty," he murmured. "He was playing with Prince Rynan when I arrived. He’s a bit startled, but—"

The moment Soren’s small body shifted toward Karina, the change was instantaneous.

The three-year-old’s eyes snapped wide. His tiny fangs bared.

HSSSSSS!

Soren twisted violently in Aldric’s grip, his small body thrashing with wild, panicked strength. His scales bristled, his forked tongue flickering rapidly, and he let out a distressed cry that cut through the throne room like a blade.

"No! No! Down! DOWN!"

Aldric froze, his eyes widening with alarm. "Prince Soren, please—"

But the cub was having none of it. He squirmed and fought, his tiny claws scrabbling at Aldric’s armor, his tail whipping back and forth in arcs. When Karina reached for him, he recoiled from her touch as if she had burned him, his small body pressing desperately against Aldric’s chest.

"No touch! No touch!" he wailed, his voice cracking with distress. "Bad! Bad!"

Karina’s hands hovered in the air, frozen mid-reach. Her smile faltered, confusion and hurt flickering across her features.

"Soren?" she whispered. "Sweetheart, it’s Mama. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to—"

HISSSSSS.

Another sharp snap of his tiny jaws, another violent twist of his body.

Aldric stood frozen, his expression torn between duty and distress. "Your Majesty, perhaps if I—"

"Give him to me," Karina said, her voice strained. "Just—just hand him here. He’ll calm down once he’s in my arms. He always calms down when—"

But Soren didn’t calm down.

The moment Aldric tried to shift him toward Karina again, the cub let out a shriek that echoed off the throne room walls. His small body convulsed, his tail lashing out so violently that it nearly struck Karina’s face.

"NOOOOO! DOWN! DOWN! WANT DOWN!"

Karina jerked back, her heart shattering into a million jagged pieces.

And then, from somewhere behind her, a sound.

A snort.

Karina whipped around, her tear-bright eyes landing on Zarek.

The Serpent King stood exactly where he had been standing before, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, something that might have been amusement, or perhaps vindication.

"I guess," Zarek said slowly, "I wasn’t the only neglectful parent."