The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 397: Maternal duty

The nursery was thick with the scent of lavender and the muffled, rhythmic breathing of a child finally spent.

Rael had cried himself into an exhausted stupor, his small body now tucked under the heavy furs of his bed.

Eris sat on the edge of the mattress, her fingers moving in a slow, hypnotic rhythm through his dark hair, smoothing the damp strands away from his forehead.

Every time she pulled her hand away, his brow would furrow in his sleep, and she would immediately return to soothing him.

Soren stood a few paces back, his shadow long and imposing against the nursery wall.

He watched the way she touched the boy, the raw, maternal tenderness that seemed to exist in a different world from the fire-starting Empress he knew.

He saw the soot still smudged on her jaw and the way her shoulders slumped when she thought he wasn’t looking.

"I need to see Caelen," Eris said. Her voice was barely a whisper, pitched low to keep Rael in his fragile sleep, but the weight of it was iron-clad.

Soren moved instantly, stepping closer until he was looming at the foot of the bed. Protective instinct flared in the sharp line of his shoulders. "Not yet."

Eris didn’t look up from her son. "He is Rael’s father, Soren. I can’t let him lie there while my son breaks."

"I’ll go," Soren countered, his voice a low grate. "I’ll find out what’s wrong. I’ll send the best mages from the capital to his side. You are barely upright yourself."

Eris finally lifted her gaze. Her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, the gold of the dragon’s influence faded to a dull, bruised amber.

"You’re an Emperor, Soren. Not a healer. And you know as well as I do that if the palace mages could have done something, they would have done it three days ago."

"Your seal just cracked, Eris," Soren said, his voice rising in quiet desperation. He reached out as if to grab her hand but pulled back, his fingers curling into a fist.

"You’re exhausted from the hunt. You’re physically depleted. How can you help him if you’re not stable? If you push your core now, you won’t just be helping Caelen, you’ll be joining him in a coma. Or worse."

"I know the risks," she said, her voice trembling slightly. She looked back at Rael, whose small hand was curled into the fabric of the bedsheet. "But I have to do this for him. He needs his father."

"Then let me help Caelen," Soren pleaded. "I have an affinity for life-force stabilization. Let me try first. You rest. Recover. Please, Eris. For once, don’t be the one to burn yourself out."

Eris shook her head slowly, a bitter smile touching her lips. "You don’t understand."

She thought of the garden. She thought of the way Caelen had looked at her, the obsession in his eyes, and the way her own magic had recoiled from him. She didn’t want to get involved with him anymore.

Every interaction with Caelen Caldrith felt like dragging her soul through broken glass, a reminder of a first life she was desperate to bury. But there was a nagging, cold sensation in her gut. The golems. The Drogar. The timing.

"If what happened to him is what I think it is," she whispered, "I’m the only one who can help. My fire... it’s the only thing that purges corruption."

They stared at each other across the sleeping boy, a silent, tense argument of wills. Soren saw the immovable determination in her face, the maternal duty that made her ignore her own crumbling health.

He saw that he could either fight her and watch her break, or stand beside her and try to catch the pieces.

He let out a long, ragged sigh, the sound of a man surrendering to a force of nature. "Fine."

Eris didn’t look relieved; she looked braced.

"But I’m not letting you do this in your own," Soren added, his voice regaining its imperial steel. "I won’t leave your side. And if I see you pushing yourself too hard, if I feel that seal start to crack, even just a little, I am stopping you. No arguments."

"You’ll stop me. I know," Eris said quietly.

Soren leaned over the bed, his large, calloused hand moving with surprising gentleness as he tucked the fur tighter around Rael’s shoulders. The boy sighed in his sleep, his breathing evening out.

Together, they left the nursery. They walked through the corridors hand in hand, a rare public display of unity that felt more like two soldiers heading into a breach.

Soren’s grip was firm, a constant anchor, while Eris’s hand was cold, her mind already calculating the energy she had left. Both were tense, both were worried, Soren for her life, and Eris for the heart of the boy they had just left behind.

... 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Inside the King Consort’s chambers, the air was stagnant and smelled of bitter salts. Ophelia sat in a high-backed chair pulled flush against the bed.

She had been there for seventy-two hours, her spine straight, her hands folded over her lap. Occasionally, she would reach out and take Caelen’s limp hand, her thumb tracing the line of his knuckles.

He looked as if he were merely sleeping, but the shallow, unchanging rhythm of his breath was a lie.

Ophelia’s mind was a chaotic landscape of resentment and terror. She remembered the way Caelen had looked at Eris during the wedding ceremony. She remembered the desperate, hollow way he spoke her name in his sleep.

She had watched from the sidelines for months, her heart breaking in slow motion as her husband chased a ghost that didn’t want to be found.

And yet, as she watched him lie there, so pale and motionless, the jealousy felt small. If he died, she would be alone. Despite the betrayal of his heart, he was her husband. She cared for him with a desperate, pathetic loyalty that she hated herself for.