Chapter 127

“I never granted you permission to ascend this place,” Ruys said.

“Exactly,” Kennard replied. “You did not grant it, which is why I told you not to force me to come up here of my own will.”

At Kennard’s words, the skin beneath Ruys’s eyes quivered with anger.

“So,” Ruys said. “At last you reveal your true nature. There was always a reason you pretended to have no interest in the throne while roaming the battlefield and expanding territory.”

“You know better than anyone that most of the lands I conquered were offered to Your Majesty,” Kennard said evenly. “I have never coveted anything.”

Kennard restrained his anger with effort.

He needed to find Elena, and his heart was already burning with urgency, but for the sake of another plan it was still too early to strike down the emperor.

“And yet you covet something now, do you not?” Ruys said.

“How can you place this matter on the same level as offering territory?” Kennard demanded. “Elena is my imprinted mate. For any reason whatsoever, I cannot send her to Your Majesty. And all the more so when she is burdened with a false charge.”

“How laughable,” Ruys said coldly. “You dare oppose me, the Emperor of Baruchella, to protect a murderer. No matter who you are, that is unforgivable.”

“If you hand Elena over, every problem will be resolved,” Kennard said. “Where is she?”

“Let me ask you one thing,” Ruys said.

Irritation surged through Kennard at Ruys’s attempt to change the subject again.

He was clearly trying to stall, to keep him here by any means necessary.

“If you do not tell me,” Kennard said, “I will find her myself.”

Unable to endure it any longer, Kennard turned away.

Serin stepped aside, clearing a path for him.

Kennard intended to turn the entire palace upside down if that was what it took to find Elena.

All he needed to do was follow her pheromones.

He should have done so from the beginning, but this was a place where the emperor’s command took precedence, and he could not act entirely as he pleased.

That was why he had first observed courtesy and formally petitioned, but since the emperor had refused, his obligation ended there.

Kennard had taken only a few long strides away from the dais when Ruys’s low, muttering voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Be grateful,” Ruys said.

“What did you say?” Kennard asked, turning back, uncertain whether he had misheard.

“I said you should be grateful,” Ruys replied, resting his elbow on the armrest of the throne and propping his chin on his hand. “I showed you mercy by sparing you from having to take a wife from the White Fox Tribe you despise so much.”

“What kind of nonsense are you spouting?” Kennard shouted.

The force of his voice sent echoes rippling through the audience chamber.

“Do you truly not know?” Ruys asked with a sigh, shaking his head as though in pity. A twisted smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “Elena Rosou. She is the daughter of the White Fox’s Rosou.”

“That is absurd,” Kennard said.

“You must have seen her at least once while you stayed in Terra Demorte at the White Fox Tribe chief’s invitation,” Ruys said.

Kennard knew exactly what time Ruys was referring to.

More than ten years earlier, under the pretense of diplomatic exchange, Rosou had invited Ruys to Terra Demorte.

For reasons unknown, Ruys had resisted going and repeatedly petitioned their father, the former emperor, until Kennard finally went in his stead.

When Ruys received the invitation, their father had raised no objection, but the moment Kennard volunteered, he tried to stop him, saying there was no need to indulge the request of a minor clan chief.

Even so, Kennard had wanted to see a wider world, and for reasons he could not explain, he had felt compelled to go.

And during his stay in Terra Demorte, he had indeed encountered Elena.

But she had lived in circumstances that made it impossible to believe she was the clan chief’s daughter.

No matter how mad Rosou might be, how could he treat his own daughter that way?

The memory clenched Kennard’s fist.

From the moment he met Elena and became imprinted on her, everything in his life had changed.

The war he had waged to seize Terra Demorte, despite his lack of interest in territorial expansion, had been for the sole purpose of saving the Elena he had known then.

“And you expect me to believe that?” Kennard said. “You have seen Elena’s appearance yourself, have you not, Your Majesty?”

A hollow laugh escaped him.

The White Fox Tribe were known for hair like spun silver and eyes black as the night sky.

Elena, by contrast, possessed hair red as flame and luminous gray eyes.

How could anyone look at her and call her a White Fox?

“Perhaps your eyesight has dulled if you cannot even distinguish color,” Kennard said.

“That only proves how pure her blood is,” Ruys replied. “Just as you are the strongest pureblood among the Black Wolves, she inherited her witch mother’s abilities in full.”

At the word witch, Serin drew in a sharp breath behind Kennard.

Kennard was no less shaken.

For Ruys to speak of witches at all was unthinkable.

He did not know how the emperor had learned this, but the realization struck him that Elena had not been seized on a mere pretext.

If his intuition was correct, she might be in far greater danger than he had imagined.

“Perhaps you are unaware,” Ruys said, “but there is a legend among the White Fox Tribe. A witch will bring about their destruction, and the sun and moon will be reversed.”

“And even Your Majesty believes such lunacy?” Kennard demanded.

“So you knew after all,” Ruys said. “Then you must also know why you cannot keep that woman by your side, unless you wish to share the fate of the Rosou chief.”

“I killed him,” Kennard said through clenched teeth. “Not a witch.”

His jaw locked tight, veins standing out along his neck.

As absurd as it sounded, if even a fraction of Ruys’s words were true, then he himself had slain Elena’s biological father.

Was that why she had vanished without a word, breaking their promise? Was she fleeing from the man who had killed her father?

The past and present collided in Kennard’s mind, leaving him reeling.

But this was not the time to falter.

“Your Grace,” Serin called urgently.

Like Kennard, Serin had sensed the surge of pheromones approaching the audience chamber.

“Then we shall simply confirm whether she is a witch or not,” Ruys said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the doors to the chamber swung open.

Verhill, the emperor’s aide, entered, followed by a flood of armed soldiers who poured inside and leveled their blades at Kennard and Serin.

They were visibly tense at the sight of Kennard, yet fully prepared to attack.

Kennard glanced at them briefly, then turned his gaze back to Ruys.

“Do you truly believe they can stop me?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Ruys replied. “I know even Serin alone would be more than enough.”

“And yet you provoke me knowingly?” Kennard said.

“I am not trying to kill you,” Ruys said. “Nor am I attacking you. I would like to say I am merely protecting myself, but…”

Ruys placed both hands on the armrests of the throne and slowly rose to his feet.

“If you truly wished it, cutting off my breath would be nothing to you.”

His gaze drifted into the distance, as though recalling something long past.

“You remember that you were away on the battlefield and could not be present at Father’s deathbed, do you not?” Ruys asked. “Do you know what his final words to me were?”

When Ruys looked down at Kennard again, sorrow flickered in his eyes.

“He said that I inherited the throne only because of your mercy. And do you know what I did then?”

A low, broken laugh escaped Ruys’s lips.

He raised both hands and mimed twisting his own neck.

“I sent him off myself. He was already on the brink of death, so I merely hastened it a little.”

He let his hands fall from his throat and stared down at his chest in a daze.

For a moment, Kennard’s entire body went rigid with rage.

“Are you saying,” he asked hoarsely, “that you killed Father?”

The smile Ruys turned on him was light, almost careless, as he shrugged.

“What choice did I have? I was the first prince of the empire, yet I was never the strongest pureblood. I grew up being compared to you. I endured it my entire life. How could he leave me such a curse even in his final moment?”

“Only a madman would do such a thing,” Kennard roared.

The soldiers flinched at the fury in his voice.

“Did you not know?” Ruys replied calmly. “I have been mad since childhood. How could I remain sane when my parents, the ministers, the entire populace compared you and me? Even after I took the throne, it never changed. It only grew worse.”

“Your Majesty,” someone cried.

“So,” Ruys shouted back at Kennard, raising his voice, “I spent every day wishing for your misery. I wanted you to drown in sorrow you could not bear and die in it. I wanted to cut off your breath with my own hands, but my strength was lacking. That was what made it truly unbearable.”