Chapter 144: Hide That She Is An Arthion

Eiravelle looked at Arielle and smiled, though there was something tired in her eyes, something that had been there for a long time and had only grown heavier in the weeks since Qazaevelle’s birth. "The moment I saw you being shocked that she had wolf nails, I already had anticipated she is. And now that it is true, I am asking you to hide this from father, sister."

Arielle’s shock deepened, her brows drawing together as she looked from the baby to Eiravelle and back again. The infirmary was quiet around them, the only sounds the soft breathing of the sleeping Ruthina and the occasional coo from Qazaevelle, who was blinking up at her mother with wide, curious eyes.

The candles on the side table flickered gently, casting warm shadows across the stone walls, and the faint scent of herbs and clean linen hung in the air. "What?" Arielle said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eiravelle did not answer immediately. She looked down at Qazaevelle, at the tiny pointed ears peeking out from the blanket, at the small hands with their delicate nails that were just a little too sharp, a little too wolf-like to be purely human. She had noticed it the moment the baby was born, had seen the way Arielle’s eyes had widened when she had first held her niece.

Eiravelle had known then. She had known that the Arthion blood that had lain dormant in her own veins for so long had awakened in her daughter, and she had known that nothing would ever be the same again.

"Eivy, isn’t this important? Father needs to know, and he had to make amends for making your life miserable." Arielle’s voice was firm, the voice she used when she was speaking as the prime minister rather than as a sister. She had always been the practical one, the one who faced problems head-on, the one who believed that truth was always better than silence.

But Eiravelle had learned long ago that truth was not always simple, and silence was not always weakness.

Eiravelle just smiled and shook her head. "Not now... I am not ready to face him again."

Arielle’s expression softened, the firmness melting into something gentler, something that looked almost like pain. She reached out and held Eiravelle’s arm, her fingers warm and steady. "I see, I understand now. And since you said so, I won’t force you anymore about telling father about this."

Eiravelle smiled, and for a moment, she felt a rush of gratitude so strong it almost brought tears to her eyes. She had spent so much of her life alone, so much of it hiding, so much of it pretending that she was fine when she was falling apart inside.

But Arielle had always been there, had always been the one person who saw through her smiles and her silences, the one person who never pushed too hard but never let her fall either. "Thank you, sister," she said, and her voice was soft.

Both of them smiled, and the tension in the room eased just a little. Qazaevelle made a small sound, a happy little gurgle, and Eiravelle looked down at her daughter with a love so fierce it almost frightened her. She had never known she could feel this way, had never known that a person so small could hold so much of her heart.

But there was more she needed to say, more she needed to ask, and she steeled herself for it. "One more thing... Can you please hide that she is an Arthion?" Eiravelle asked, as she held the baby gently in her arms. She kept her voice calm, but there was a plea buried in the words, a desperate hope that Arielle would understand.

Arielle’s eyes widened again. "Even Qazaethel?" She asked, and there was no judgment in her voice, only surprise.

Eiravelle nodded. "Mm. Even my daughter... I am not ready for them to meet her." She paused, her throat tightening. "I am being selfish, I know. But I am not ready to see them love my daughter and act like nothing happened from all these years."

She was no longer crying anymore. The tears had come and gone in the days after the birth, when she had held Qazaevelle and thought about everything she had lost, everything she had endured. Now all she felt was a profound sadness that somehow crushed her heart, a sadness that had settled into her bones and refused to leave.

She thought of her parents, of the coldness in their eyes when they had looked at her, of the way they had blamed her for things she had not done, of the years she had spent trying to earn a love that was never going to come. And she thought of Qazaevelle, of her daughter, who was innocent and perfect and deserved none of the pain that Eiravelle had known.

Arielle was quiet for a long moment, her hand still resting on Eiravelle’s arm. The infirmary seemed to hold its breath, the candles flickering in the silence. Then Arielle spoke, her voice gentle but steady. "Eivy, I know... And rest assured, our family won’t find out. But... Will you still forgive our parents?"

Eiravelle kept smiling, though the smile did not quite reach her eyes. "For now, I do not know yet. And it’s fine." She meant it. She had spent too many years forcing herself to forgive, to move on, to be the bigger person.

She was tired of pretending that the wounds did not still ache, that the child inside her had stopped crying. She did not know if she would ever forgive her parents. She did not know if she wanted to. And for the first time in her life, she was allowing herself to be okay with that uncertainty.

Eiravelle kept her gaze on Arielle. "All that matters now is the safety of my daughter, and to make sure she won’t experience the same thing I did." She smiled wider when Qazaevelle cooed and kept smiling, the baby’s tiny face lighting up as though she understood, as though she knew that her mother was fighting for her.

Eiravelle thought that this day would come with grand drama, with gestures and tears and everything you can read from novels. She had imagined it a hundred times, had pictured herself confronting her parents, had rehearsed the words she would say, the accusations she would hurl. But she had been wrong.

This kind of revelation was much more bearable and peaceful compared to the one she had read from books. There was no shouting, no weeping, no dramatic declarations. Just two sisters in a quiet room, a sleeping omega, and a baby who cooed softly in her mother’s arms.

She was thankful that Arielle was the type of being that didn’t escalate and press further. She was thankful that Arielle simply listened, simply understood, simply held her arm and let her speak.

She was thankful for what she had right now, and she didn’t want to ruin it just because they found out the truth about Eiravelle’s blood. The truth was dangerous, she knew. The Arthion blood was rare and powerful, and there were those who would kill for it, who would try to use her daughter for their own ends. But the danger was not just external.

The danger was also in her own family, in the parents who had mistreated her, in the relatives who had looked the other way. Eiravelle did not want them to know about Qazaevelle, did not want them to suddenly claim her daughter as their own, to pretend that they had always loved her, to act as though the years of cruelty had never happened.

But for Eiravelle, the younger version of her that was mistreated for the mistake she didn’t commit still hurt. And that child was still somewhere in the corner of her head, crying and begging for her parents to somehow be kind and gentle on her. Eiravelle had tried to bury that child, had tried to silence her, had tried to convince herself that she was grown now and did not need their love anymore.

But the child was still there, and the pain was still there, and it was one of the heaviest feelings Eiravelle didn’t know how to unfold on her own. She kept it hidden, for the sake of everyone and for the sake of being at peace. She did not want to burden Arielle with it, did not want to burden Qazaethel, did not want to burden anyone. She carried it alone, as she had always done.

What she went through was enough, and she didn’t want to add on it more. Now that she had something much bigger to do. She looked at Qazaevelle, at her daughter’s tiny face and elven ears and wolf-like nails, and she felt a resolve settle into her heart. She would protect this child.

She would give her the love that Eiravelle had never known. She would make sure that Qazaevelle never had to cry herself to sleep, never had to wonder why her parents did not want her, never had to feel the cold sting of rejection. And if that meant keeping secrets, if that meant hiding the truth from her own family, then so be it. Eiravelle had made her choice.

Arielle seemed to sense the shift in her, the way her shoulders straightened, the way her grip on the baby tightened just a little. "You’re stronger than you know, Eivy," Arielle said quietly, and there was admiration in her voice.

Eiravelle looked at her sister and smiled, a real smile this time. "I had good teachers," she said, and she meant it. Arielle had taught her what it meant to be kind, to be patient, to be protective. And Qazaethel had taught her what it meant to be strong, to be decisive, to fight for what you believed in. Eiravelle had learned from both of them, and she would use those lessons to keep her daughter safe.

She looked down at Qazaevelle, who had fallen asleep again, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. The baby’s elven ears were still visible, delicate and pointed, and Eiravelle traced one gently with her fingertip. "You’re going to have a good life," she whispered, so quietly that even Arielle could not hear. "I promise you that."

The infirmary was quiet, the candles burning low, and Ruthina stirred slightly in her sleep, her fingers tightening around Arielle’s hand. Arielle looked at the sleeping omega and smiled, a soft, private smile that Eiravelle recognized. It was the smile of someone who had found something precious, someone who was holding on to it with both hands.

Eiravelle was happy for her sister. She was happy that Arielle had found Ruthina, that she had someone to love and protect, someone who loved her in return. And she was happy that Qazaevelle would grow up surrounded by people who cared about her, people who would teach her what it meant to be good and kind and strong.

But Eiravelle also knew that the world was not always kind, and that there would be those who tried to hurt her daughter. She would be ready for them. She would be ready for anything. She had spent her whole life preparing for this, had learned to survive in a world that did not want her, had learned to find strength in the darkest places. And now she would use that strength to protect the one person who mattered most.

She leaned down and kissed Qazaevelle’s forehead, breathing in the sweet baby smell of her. "Sleep well, my little one," she whispered. "I’ll keep you safe."

Arielle watched them, her eyes soft, and for a moment, the two sisters simply sat together in the quiet of the infirmary, the weight of the day settling around them. There would be more to do, more problems to solve, more secrets to keep. But for now, in this moment, they had each other. And that was enough.

Eiravelle thought of the future, of all the things she would need to do, all the things she would need to hide, all the things she would need to protect. She did not know what the future held, did not know what challenges awaited her, did not know what dangers lurked on the horizon.

But she knew that she would face them head-on, just as she had always done. She was an omega who had survived slavery, who had survived cruelty, who had survived a world that had tried to break her. And she was a mother now. A mother who would do anything for her child.