Chapter 28: The Golden Rabbit’s Value

"What are you doing to my sister, your majesty?"

The words left Arielle’s mouth before she could stop them, sharp and accusatory, driven by an instinct she had not known she possessed—the fierce, protective instinct of an older sister who would tear down the world itself to keep her sibling safe.

Her body had moved on its own, her feet carrying her forward, her hands reaching out as if to pull Qazaethel away from Eiravelle by force if necessary.

Qazaethel’s eyes widened for a brief second, a flicker of surprise breaking through her carefully maintained composure.

Then, with practiced ease, she smoothed her expression back into neutrality, her features settling into the calm, unreadable mask of the sovereign.

She straightened and turned to face Arielle fully, her hands are clasped loosely in front of her.

"I am helping your sister drink the medicine," she said, her voice was level and measured. "She was too weak to open her eyes, so I helped her like this. Unless you wish Healer Dale to do it himself."

Arielle blinked, her mind was struggling to catch up with the explanation. She looked at the empty bowl in Qazaethel’s hands, at the faint sheen of liquid still glistening on the sovereign’s lips, and realization crashed over her like a wave.

The kiss—if it could even be called that—had been nothing more than a method of administering medicine. A practical solution to a difficult problem. Nothing more.

Dale, who had been standing near the door, looked utterly horrified at the suggestion that he might have been the one to perform such a task.

He shook his head vigorously, his hands are raised in a gesture of emphatic refusal.

"Of course not, your majesty," he said, his voice carried a note of genuine panic.

"Even if I am a healer, I wouldn’t dare kiss another omega and anger my omega husband. He would have my head on a platter before I could even explain myself. And I quite value my head, thank you very much."

Despite the gravity of the situation, a small, amused snort escaped Liv’s lips from somewhere behind Arielle. She quickly covered it with a cough, but the damage was done—Dale shot her a withering glare that promised retribution at a later date.

Qazaethel nodded in understanding, the ghost of a smile flickered at the corner of her mouth before disappearing. "A wise decision, Dale. I would hate to lose such a talented healer to matrimonial strife."

Arielle felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She had jumped to conclusions, had allowed her fear and exhaustion to cloud her judgment. She had accused the sovereign of impropriety when the woman had been doing nothing more than saving her sister’s life.

"You’re right," Arielle said, her voice became small with shame. She bowed her head, unable to meet Qazaethel’s gaze. "Forgive me, your majesty. I spoke out of turn. I was just... I was so worried, and when I saw—"

"There is nothing to forgive, Arielle," Qazaethel interrupted, her tone was surprisingly gentle. "You were protecting your sister. That is not a fault. It is a virtue."

She turned back to Eiravelle, her gaze softened as it fell upon the omega’s still form. The black veins that had spread across Eiravelle’s skin were beginning to recede, retreating slowly but steadily from her neck, her jaw, and her cheeks.

The color was returning to her lips, a faint pink replacing the sickly blue that had terrified Qazaethel only hours before.

"She needs rest," Qazaethel murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. The words were a reassurance, a confirmation that the nightmare was finally ending.

Eiravelle would live. Their child would live. The black veins subsided, proof enough that the antidote was working.

"Your majesty, let me check her condition," Dale said, stepping forward with his healer’s bag in hand.

Qazaethel nodded and gently passed Eiravelle’s hand to Dale, her touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, as if she were reluctant to break the contact. Her fingers brushed against Eiravelle’s knuckles, a feather-light caress that spoke of a tenderness she dared not voice aloud, before she finally released her hold.

Dale took Eiravelle’s wrist and pressed his fingers against the pulse point, his eyes closed in concentration. The room fell silent, everyone held their breath as they waited for his verdict. The candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows across the walls, and somewhere in the distance, a night bird called out into the darkness.

A moment passed. Then another. Dale’s expression remained unreadable, his professional mask was firmly in place.

Finally, he opened his eyes and gently placed Eiravelle’s hand back beside her on the bed. "She is safe," he announced, a smile breaking through his exhaustion.

"The poison has been neutralized. She will recover fully with rest and proper care." He paused, his gaze flickered briefly to Qazaethel before he added, "And the little one as well. Both Oma and child are healthy."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that only three people in the room fully understood. Qazaethel’s shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, the tension had drainee from her frame. Arielle let out a long, shuddering breath, tears of relief prick at her eyes.

"I’m glad," Arielle whispered, her voice was thick with emotion. She reached out and took her sister’s hand, squeezing gently. "I’m so glad."

Qazaethel remained silent. Now that Eiravelle was safe, the reality of her situation pressed down on her with renewed weight.

She could not stay. If she lingered any longer, questions would be asked. Suspicion would grow. And Eiravelle—fragile, still recovering—would become the subject of gossip and speculation once more.

The omega had suffered enough. Qazaethel would not add to her burden.

"Now that Lady Eiravelle is safe, I shall go," Qazaethel said, rising from the bed. Her voice was steady, betraying none of the reluctance she felt. She smoothed the front of her robes, adjusting the folds with practiced ease, and turned toward the door.

"Your majesty, wait," Arielle said, her voice was stopping Qazaethel in her tracks.

Qazaethel paused and turned her gaze on Arielle, one eyebrow raised in question. "What is it, child?"

"Thank you," Arielle said, the words are simple but sincere. "Thank you for what you’ve done for my sister. For everything—for coming to Varnara with me, for facing Ceprys, for bringing back the Flower of Life. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. I don’t know if Eiravelle would still be—" Her voice caught, and she could not finish the sentence.

Qazaethel shook her head, a dismissive gesture that was almost gentle. "I barely did anything. You were the one who saved her, Arielle. Your determination, your courage, your refusal to give up—those are what brought us to Varnara and back. I merely accompanied you."

"That’s not true," Arielle protested, but Qazaethel raised a hand to silence her.

"I will not argue with you about this," Qazaethel said, a hint of amusement coloring her tone. "Accept the compliment and move on. It is not every day that one saves a life."

She was about to leave when Arielle stopped her again, the words tumbled out in a rush. "Your majesty, please wait a bit. What about the golden rabbit?"

Qazaethel’s eyes landed on the omega slave who was sleeping peacefully beside Eiravelle, her thin form was barely visible beneath the blankets.

The golden rabbit’s face was peaceful in sleep, the lines of pain and fear was smoothed away, and her breathing was slow and steady.

She looked younger than she probably was, her features were delicate, almost ethereal, and there was a dignity to her that even years of abuse had not been able to destroy.

"What about her?" Qazaethel asked, her voice was carefully neutral.

"I assume that she is a very important species," Arielle said, choosing her words with care. "Xelvyn mentioned that golden rabbits are rare, that they’re prized for their abilities. Wouldn’t you want to take her instead? Surely the palace would be a better place for her to recover than a noble’s manor."

Qazaethel paused, considering the question. It was a reasonable suggestion—the palace had resources that the Arthion manor could not match, healers and attendants and security that would ensure the golden rabbit’s well-being.

But there was something in Arielle’s tone, a hesitance that spoke of more than mere practicality.

"She was traumatized," Qazaethel said finally, shaking her head. "Keeping her in palace grounds will make that worse. The palace is a place of politics and intrigue, of constant scrutiny and endless demands. She would be on display, a curiosity for the court to gawk at. That is not what she needs right now."

She glanced at the golden rabbit, her expression had softened. "Please keep her here, until she decides to go back to whatever beast realm she came from. Let her heal in peace, away from the eyes of the powerful beings. She has earned that much."

Arielle hesitated, her fingers are twisting together in her lap. "I don’t want her to go anywhere," she admitted, her voice turn quiet. "She’s been hurt so much already. I don’t want her to suffer anymore. I don’t want her to be alone."

Qazaethel studied Arielle for a long moment, her sharp eyes are missing nothing. The flush that crept up the young alpha’s cheeks, the way her gaze kept drifting to the golden rabbit, and the protective tone in her voice—it all painted a picture that Qazaethel found unexpectedly endearing.

"What do you want to do with her, then?" Qazaethel asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

Arielle took a deep breath, steeling herself. "If you won’t mind, will you give me the blessing to let her be part of our family?"

Qazaethel could not help but smirk. It was a rare sight—the ruthless, justified sovereign of Solkanaia, known throughout the realm for her cold pragmatism and unwavering resolve, allowing herself a moment of genuine amusement. Her lips curved upward, and something warm flickered in her crimson eyes.

"I know why," she teased, her voice was light. "You’ve developed something we call admiration for her, haven’t you? The poor alpha can’t stop looking at her, can’t stop thinking about her, can’t stop wanting to protect her. It’s written all over your face."

Arielle’s face turned the color of a boiled tomato. The blush spread faster from her cheeks to her ears and to the tips of her fingers, and she waved her hands frantically in denial.

"N-No, that’s not it!" She sputtered. "I just—I mean—she needs help, and I want to help her, that’s all! It’s not—it’s not like that!"

Qazaethel sighed, a long, exaggerated sound that only made Arielle’s blush deepen.

"Alright, alright. Keep her. Once she recovers, we shall hold a banquet for a golden rabbit. It will be a celebration of her rescue and a welcome to our kingdom."

"W-Why?" Arielle asked, confused. "Why hold a banquet for her? She’s not a noble, she’s not a diplomat, she’s not anyone important in the political sense."

Qazaethel’s expression shifted, the teasing light had fading from her eyes. "Because golden rabbits are one of the highest blessed species," she explained, her voice took on a more serious tone.

"They’re known for being the beloved companions of saints. In the old texts, it is written that if a golden rabbit chooses to remain in a kingdom, it means the saint has been born there. It is considered the greatest blessing a ruler can receive."

She paused, her gaze was drifting to the sleeping omega. "If she wished to leave, it means the saint is not in our kingdom, or simply not in this place. But if she stayed..." She let the sentence trail off, the implication was hanging in the air.

"So take good care of her," Qazaethel finished, turning her back to Arielle. "She may be more important than any of us realize."

Dale opened the door for her, bowing low as she stepped out of the room.

The door closed behind her with a soft click, and Arielle was left alone with her sister, the golden rabbit, and the weight of everything that had happened.

She looked at the golden rabbit omega, then at her little sister, and a sigh escaped her lips. She sat down next to Eiravelle and kissed her forehead, a gentle, sisterly gesture that she had performed a thousand times before.

"I’m so glad you’re okay now, my little sister," she murmured, the words were like a prayer of gratitude. "I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you. You’re the only family I have left who matters, the only one who has ever truly loved me without conditions."

She pulled back and looked at Eiravelle’s peaceful face, at the color had slowly returned to her cheeks, at the steady rise and fall of her chest.

The black veins had receded further, leaving only faint shadows behind that would fade with time. She would live, and she would recover. And someday, when the time was right, Arielle would tell her about everything that had happened.

But not now. Eiravelle needed rest, and Arielle needed to sort out her own thoughts.

Her eyes landed once again on the golden rabbit beside her sister. The omega was so beautiful, even in sleep, even with the faint scars that traced patterns across her skin.

Her hair was a soft, golden blonde that seemed to glow in the candlelight, and her features were delicate, almost fragile, like a porcelain doll that had been carefully crafted by a master artisan.

Arielle looked away, but she could not stop the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach. Her heart beat faster, a traitorous movement that seemed to mock her confusion.

Why am I feeling this way? Arielle asked herself, the question echoed through her mind with no answer. I don’t even know her name. I don’t know who she is, where she came from, or what she’s been through. And yet, when I look at her, I feel... I feel something. Something I’ve never felt before.

She had never been in love. Had never even come close. Being the youngest prime minister in the history of Solkanaia was not an easy achievement, and she had poured all her time and energy into her studies, her work, and her duties.

She had never had the luxury of romance, of courtship, of the slow, sweet dance of falling for someone.

She was, though it embarrassed her deeply to admit it, a virgin alpha.

The thought made her cheeks burn with shame. Thirty years old, and she had never once lain with anyone. Had never even kissed anyone. Had never held someone’s hand in a way that meant more than friendship.

Her peers had all experienced these things, had all explored the pleasures of the flesh and the complexities of romantic entanglement. But Arielle had been too busy, too focused, and too determined to prove herself in a world that judged her for her youth.

And now, at the worst possible moment, she was feeling the first stirrings of desire for a woman she knew nothing about.

This is ridiculous, she told herself firmly. You are a prime minister. You are an adult. You are above these silly infatuations. You have more important things to worry about than the way your heart races when you look at a stranger.

But even as she thought the words, she knew they were lies. Her heart did race when she looked at the golden rabbit. Her palms did grow sweaty and her thoughts did become scattered and confused.

She was, for the first time in her life, was completely and utterly infatuated.

And she had no idea what to do about it.

She turned away from the golden rabbit and focused on Eiravelle instead, taking her sister’s hand and holding it tightly.

Tomorrow, she would think about the golden rabbit. Tomorrow, she would figure out what to do about these strange, overwhelming feelings. And tomorrow, she would begin the long, complicated process of unraveling the mystery that was the omega who had captured her heart without even trying.

But tonight, she would sit by her sister’s side and thank whatever gods were listening that Eiravelle was alive.

The candle burned low, and the shadows danced, and somewhere in the distance, the night birds continued their lonely song. And Arielle sat in the darkness, holding her sister’s hand, and wondered what the future would bring.