The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 241: A paralyzed King.

Chapter 241: A paralyzed King.

Ren’s rage simmered just beneath her skin, pulsing through her veins like wildfire. Lately, her temper had darkened, stormy, and unpredictable, much like the skies that had hung over Thegara for days. Impatience followed her like a shadow.

"You can either tell me everything," she said coldly, standing to her full height, "or I’ll find out for myself." She brushed past him without looking back. "Thank you for coming."

Agara watched her retreating form, the fire in her step, the fury in her silence. He cursed softly under his breath, then turned on his heel. "Aqua Blue, Jigress root, and Halo herbs," he called out.

Ren froze mid-step. "Aqua Blue?" she asked without turning. "Isn’t that found in the depths of the ocean?"

"It is," Agara confirmed. "You’ll need a mermaid’s help to retrieve it."

Her brow furrowed. A mermaid? That would not be easy.

"Acre Island," Arkilla chimed in, thinking aloud. "Could we find a mermaid there? The goblin lived on that island, remember?"

Agara’s expression turned grim. "Even with those herbs, we still don’t have a healer strong enough to cleanse his aura completely."

Ren didn’t hesitate. "Then I’ll do everything I can after our children are born. For now, I have to find those herbs."

She stepped forward to leave, her jaw tight with resolve, when Agara reached out and gently grabbed her arm.

"I’ll go find the herbs," he said softly. "But before I do... let me see your half-brother."

He released her hand just as quickly as he’d taken it.

Ren turned her head away slightly. "He doesn’t speak. I’ve tried to learn who his mother was, but he hasn’t said a single word."

Agara folded his arms thoughtfully. "Sigaros told me a little. The boy was searching for his father after his mother died, but Lutherieth found him first and twisted his mind. Let me speak with him."

Ren gave a small nod. "This way, please."

As they walked, Arkilla leaned in beside Agara, her voice a cautious whisper. "She’s been... off lately. His Majesty’s avoiding her."

Agara’s face darkened. "He has no choice," he replied, his voice flat.

Ren led them through the cold stone corridors beneath the castle. The prison was silent, save for the occasional drip of water and the distant echo of footsteps. They stopped before a row of cells, Daniella’s was just beside Hector’s.

Agara paused, peering through the iron bars of the spy girl’s cell. "You kept her alive?"

Ren’s gaze hardened as she glanced at Daniella. "I had to. She still won’t reveal how her ancestors communicated with my mother. Her people revered my mother as a sacred figure, yet this woman betrayed everything, just to chase a crown."

Inside the cell, Daniella stirred. Her hair was tangled, her face pale, but her eyes still burned with defiance. She lifted her head, meeting Ren’s cold stare.

"The throne of Alvonia belongs to the bloodline of King Alvone," she said boldly, her voice echoing off the stone.

Reneira chuckled softly, though there was no warmth in the sound. "You know what’s funny?"

Daniella’s eyes flicked to her, she was wary. There was no innocent mask on her face now, the one that misled Ren, no diplomacy, no royal poise. Only the truth of her.

"I almost believed you," Ren continued, her voice quiet but cutting. "I knew you were hiding something. I could see it in your aura, Daniella. There was always a shadow clinging to you. I assumed it was Victor’s influence. I thought he used you, manipulated you... but the truth is, you were the one who used him."

Daniella’s face darkened. Her sharp tongue remained silent. As much as she hated it, this woman always made her feel small and guilty. Because part of her did feel remorse for what she’d done. But still, the voice in her heart screamed: That throne is mine. Not hers. Not her father’s.

Before she could speak, a glowing sphere of magic shot forward, Agara’s doing. It struck Daniella squarely in the chest. She crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"Was that necessary?" Ren asked, frowning.

"Yes," Agara replied flatly. "I won’t have her eavesdropping. I suggest you keep your brother far from that cunning snake."

Ren shook her head, eyes distant. "They know each other. I’ll keep them close."

Without waiting for his reaction, she strode to the next cell. This door was different, solid iron with no bars, just a slit reinforced with thick steel. Whoever was inside wasn’t meant to be seen easily.

Ren gave the order, and the guard moved without hesitation, unlocking the heavy iron door.

"Arkilla, stay here," Ren instructed firmly.

Arkilla snorted under her breath, frustration simmering in her eyes. Why is my lady always so reckless around danger? But she knew the answer. Everything Ren did, every risk, every defiance, was for His Highness. She would stop at nothing to save him. Even if it meant tricking this silent vampire lord into helping them find a mermaid. The only problem? He never spoke.

The door groaned open with a deep, metallic scrape. A blast of frigid air swept out, biting against Ren’s skin, but the man inside didn’t flinch. The cold didn’t touch him.

Agara studied the prisoner’s hollow face. His features were sunken, skin pale and almost translucent. "He’s starving," Agara muttered. "The dark hollows under his eyes say it all."

Ren stepped closer, her tone sharp and unyielding. "You refuse animal blood. Because human blood tastes better, doesn’t it?" Her voice snapped like ice.

The vampire lord lifted his head slowly, his eyes dull yet piercing. His voice came out cracked and raspy, scraped from the bottom of his throat.

"Why do you keep coming here?"

"I miss my newly found brother... over and over again. Do you understand me?" Ren’s voice was quiet, almost vulnerable.

The vampire gave a dry, bitter laugh. The sound echoed with years of resentment. But the amusement vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp, dangerous glare.

"A princess raised among swan feathers, pampered to the bone, what would you know of my pain? You could never understand me. You could never truly call me brother."

Ren’s eyes darkened, her gaze turning cold as obsidian. "Pampered?" she repeated, her voice laced with disdain. "You think being pampered means having a sister who shattered my bones weekly and locked me in a freezing, stinking dungeon for amusement?"

Her voice grew steadier, steel sharpening beneath her calm.

"Did pampering include learning that the man I called father wasn’t mine? Or that my mother was a Fae, murdered by a witch you served?"

The vampire faltered, but Ren didn’t stop.

"After I married, the threats didn’t end. I became a target, again. Many people wanted my head. A demon tried to claim me, and to offer me up as a vessel for a mad Saint’s ghost."

She leaned against the wall, examining her nails as if the horrors she described were just passing memories. "Would you like to hear more about a princess’s life?" she said coolly. "Because all I’ve ever done... is to survive the pampered life you talk about."

Silence stretched between them.

Then she added, casually but pointedly, "Your mother was a half-blood. Just like me. Just like my uncle."

Agara, watching quietly beside her, smiled faintly. She’s changed, he thought. Smarter. Braver. More patient. And infinitely stronger than they gave her credit for.

"She’s right," Agara admitted firmly, stepping closer. "Life hasn’t been kind to any of us. But we didn’t let it twist us into monsters. We didn’t surrender our souls to a manipulative bastard who turned us into weapons."

He stared at Hector, his voice low but unrelenting. "Tell me, what did he promise you? What lies did he feed you about your father? Luther did the same thing to his own younger brother. You’ve seen Kaisun, haven’t you? Luther murdered his mother and kidnapped him. He raised him like a hound, trained him to hate, to kill. Just another pawn in his war against a man who never wronged him."

Agara’s tone softened, but only slightly. "And you believed that man, Hector. You let him turn you. You let him end your life."

Without waiting for a reply, Agara reached into his robe and pulled out a sealed envelope.

"King Benkin can no longer use his arms, not since the last attack. He asked me to write this letter for you. He wanted you to know his side of the story."

Ren’s breath caught. She turned sharply, her body going rigid. Her uncle hadn’t said a word about this, not a whisper about Benkin’s condition, or that he’d suffered so gravely.

"He... can’t use his hands?" she asked, her voice shaking with the awe of the bad news.

Agara nodded, gently placing the envelope on the stone bed beside Hector. "Yes. He’s alive, but the damage was... severe."

Ren stood frozen, her thoughts swirling, her face pale. Even Hector noticed the shift in her, how unguarded she suddenly looked, the tremble in her fingers.

She finally spoke, her voice tight with emotion. "Let’s talk outside."

They stepped out of the cell, and Ren gave a quiet nod to the guard. The heavy door slammed shut behind them, echoing through the corridor like a closing Chapter. She didn’t wait, her steps were fast, driven by a tightening in her chest. She needed air. Space. Anything to breathe again.

"Why did she leave so suddenly?" Arkilla asked, casting a confused look at Agara.

But Ren wasn’t with them anymore, not in mind, not in heart. Her thoughts had spiraled far beyond the stone walls of the prison.

Outside, she found a small alcove carved into the ancient stone. She stopped there, leaned against the cold wall, and tried to steady her breathing.

First, she had learned her husband’s aura was corrupted, on the verge of falling into demonic madness. Now, she had just discovered that her father, the once-proud King Benkin, was broken, paralyzed, perhaps dying, reduced to a shell of who he had been.

Everything was unraveling. Her strength, her certainty, her composure.

"I exposed something to her that I shouldn’t have," Agara admitted softly, guilt lacing his voice.

"Even Gloria didn’t tell me," Ren whispered, mostly to herself.

"They’re worried about you," Agara replied. "Emotional trauma could affect your babies. If you fall apart, Ren, you won’t be able to heal them... or yourself."

Ren looked away, blinking hard to stop the tears threatening to fall. Her voice cracked as she turned toward him, desperation creeping into her tone.

"Can you help me see him? Please."

Agara gently shook his head. "Not yet. Wait for Kai. He’s visiting your father tomorrow."

A lump rose in Ren’s throat, thick and painful. It pressed against her voice, and made her shoulders tremble.

She reached out a trembling hand. "Take me to Ogain," she whispered. "I need his magic... to erase my heart from this awkward feeling."

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