You Were My Sl*ve - Chapter 65

She released her grip on the knife he had handed her, startled by its weight. The blade was still pristine, untouched by blood, its surface gleaming white. She muttered under her breath,

“I want to be His Majesty’s queen.”

“Then I’ll make sure you get that title,” Zahhak replied smoothly. “By any means necessary.”

Irrith glanced at him, her fingers tightening slightly on the hilt of the knife. By any means necessary. With the Omar family’s support, it would be far easier to sway other nobles to her side. Zahhak’s power, both his family’s military strength and his personal ruthlessness, would be invaluable. Even his sheer cruelty could be wielded as a weapon.

All of it would be hers, as long as Elona was eliminated.

“Your offer…” she murmured, lowering the knife and placing it on the table, “…I’ll consider it.”

Seeing her step back cautiously, Zahhak smirked.

“What’s this? Acting like a noble all of a sudden?”

“His Majesty is already watching my family closely. My father and I have plenty of past misdeeds hanging over us. I can’t make a reckless move until his suspicion wanes,” she replied calmly.

“Ah, so you’re buying time….” Zahhak nodded, as if in understanding, then casually remarked,

“Come to think of it, you’re not even allowed into the main palace anymore, are you?”

“…That’s true,” Irrith admitted, her voice tightening with unease.

She didn’t know when—or if—she’d be allowed to re-enter the palace. A calculating man like Zahhak might decide to abandon her if her situation worsened. But his next words had a completely different implication.

“And yet, here you are, talking about ‘considering’ my offer, as if the situation isn’t urgent.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her tone sharpening.

“She’s pregnant,” Zahhak said bluntly.

Irrith’s eyes widened in shock. Zahhak chuckled at her reaction, almost mocking her disbelief.

“The Parsion woman is carrying the king’s child. I have reliable informants among the royal physicians—they’ve confirmed it. No other nobles know yet.”

“Pregnant? Since when…?”

“Not long, it seems. Might be the reason she was brought into the main palace,” Zahhak mused, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Irrith felt the strength drain from her body. This was the worst possible scenario, the one she had feared the most. Her hands trembled visibly, something Zahhak noticed with amusement as he calmly added,

“That’s why you should make your decision quickly. Killing the child as well will complicate things considerably.”

He wasn’t wrong—there was no time to waste. There was no room for sorrow, betrayal, or even doubt. Whether it was a prince or princess, that child could not be allowed to be born. Never.

“Forgive me, but I must leave now. As you said, there’s no time to waste,” she said curtly, standing abruptly.

“As you wish.”

Leaving the table without touching the food was a grave discourtesy, but Zahhak simply smiled and saw her off with an amused expression.

Once outside the estate, Irrith hurriedly climbed into her carriage and slammed the door shut. Only when she was alone did the tears finally come.

“How… how could this happen….”

It was humiliation mixed with despair. She sobbed silently, cursing Kazan and cursing herself.

She should have killed Elona no matter the cost. Even if it had aroused Kazan’s suspicion or drawn his hatred, she should have acted. Anything would have been better than this—this helplessness as she was so easily cast aside.

Now, she had no choice. She had to tell her father everything and decide whether to ally with the Omar family.

Before that woman became queen.

Before her child was born.

*

On a moonless night, the royal bedchamber was cloaked in deep darkness.

“Mmm…”

Elona, who had fallen asleep after an intimate evening with Kazan, awoke in the middle of the night. His large, warm body was wrapped around her bare form, his heat always comforting against her cooler frame.

It feels so nice… but…

Elona carefully placed a hand on her stomach. The royal physician was certain: she was pregnant. It was still early—less than a month—so her body had yet to show any changes. But as she rested her hand on her still-flat belly, a sigh escaped her lips.

I’ve kept it a secret for now, but… what am I supposed to do?

She had barely managed to stop the physician from immediately reporting her condition to Kazan. If news of her pregnancy leaked, chaos would surely descend upon the Ashatra royal court.

Political disputes over her and her child’s status, threats of assassination, and the impact this revelation might have on the Parsion people—all these concerns tumbled through her mind as she had listed them off to the physician. Eventually, the doctor had promised to keep her secret. But they warned her that by the second month, it would be impossible to hide.

How will Kazan react when he finds out?

Judging by how he treated her now, he would likely be overjoyed. He would probably ensure her safety and protect her so she could deliver the child. Perhaps he might even name the baby himself.

But after that? After the baby is born, what then?

Would he officially acknowledge the child as part of the royal family? If so, what would happen to her? Could a slave raise a royal child? Or would she be cast aside while the child remained in the palace?

No. I can’t allow that. This is my child.

Should she beg Kazan to make her queen, for the sake of their baby? But what if he refused? Even if he agreed, would opposition from the court prevent it from happening?

I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.

Elona tossed and turned, unable to sleep as her thoughts spiraled. She was still struggling with her worries when she felt Kazan’s arms loosen around her.

Suddenly, he pulled away and sat up in bed. Elona opened her eyes in the darkness, hearing the soft sound of his movement.

“…Hah,” he sighed quietly, sitting still for a while.

Pretending to remain asleep, Elona listened carefully, sensing a heavy weight in his silence. Something was troubling him deeply. She saw him clutch his hair as though grappling with a difficult decision.

Could the physician have told him already?

Worry crept into her heart as she lay there, unable to gauge what was going through his mind. Finally, as if making up his mind, Kazan stood, pulled on a robe, and swiftly left the room.

Where is he going?

Elona hesitated, then quickly got up and dressed. Silently crossing the room, she peeked into the corridor. Kazan was already disappearing down the hall, heading toward the staircase.

Why is he in such a hurry?

She followed him out of curiosity and concern, staying far enough behind to remain unnoticed. Kazan descended to the first floor and headed toward the corridor that led to the rear courtyard.

Is he going outside at this hour?

But instead of stepping outside, he stopped at the end of the corridor. Before him was a black wall covered in geometric designs. Resting one hand on the wall, he murmured in a low voice,

“Oh great Sindar, grant mercy to your son.”

As the words left his lips, a crack appeared in the seemingly solid wall, and the stones slid aside to reveal an entrance. Without hesitation, Kazan stepped inside. The moment he passed through, the stones shifted back into place, sealing the entrance behind him.

When Elona reached the wall, it had already closed again.

Should I follow him?

The thought of what might lie beyond the wall sent a shiver down her spine. What if it was something dangerous? Pressing her ear against the wall, she could faintly hear his footsteps retreating further into the hidden passage.

A secret passage…? It must lead underground, like the Temple of Ru. Beyond this wall is the courtyard, so it must connect to something beneath the palace.

What could be hidden beneath the royal palace? Was it a treasury, like in other kingdoms? Or perhaps a shrine?

Elona stood there for a long time, debating whether to follow him, but eventually decided to return to the bedroom.

Kazan would hate it if he knew I was following him. It’s better to ask him directly.

She climbed back into bed and pretended nothing had happened.

The next morning, to her relief, Kazan was already awake and standing by the balcony.

“Kazan,” she called softly.

He turned to face her, his expression unusually weary. She hesitated, then asked cautiously,

“Where did you go last night? I woke up in the middle of the night and noticed you were gone.”

“…You were awake,” he murmured. After a pause, he replied, “I went to pray at the underground shrine.”