"What is this remedy?"
Morvakar met his gaze, the faintest flicker of mischief in his eyes, as though he already knew the reaction this would cause. "To mark his true fated mate."
Luciver stared at him for a long moment, his brain scrambling to connect the words into something that made sense. Then, very slowly, his head tilted, his mouth tightening. "Morvakar, I swear to the Goddess—sometimes, I simply cannot with you." His hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose like he was holding back the urge to strangle him. "Luna is his fated mate. Luna has been marked. That—" he jabbed a finger in Morvakar’s direction "—was the source of the poison in the first place, wasn’t it?"
Luciver gave a short, incredulous laugh.
"No," Morvakar repeated. "I manipulated Luna’s essence at conception to link her to the king."
"She is his mate, yes," Morvakar went on, entirely unbothered, "and they do have the mate bond. Strong as any bond—maybe even stronger. But that bond is... artificial. A construct."
Luciver felt the ground shift beneath him. "Artificial...You’re telling me—"
"The queen’s true fated mate," Morvakar said smoothly, "was Alpha King Kyllian. Damien’s true fated mate is also out there. And last I heard..." He paused just long enough for tension to coil. "...he found her."
"...He... he found her?" The words came out almost strangled.
"Yes," Morvakar said, lips curling slightly. "But he wouldn’t mark her. The man wants to stay loyal to the very end...You raised an amazing king."
Luciver’s chest swelled with conflicting emotions—pride warred with frustration, admiration tangled with exasperation. "I cannot believe he didn’t tell me this."
"Maybe," Morvakar said with a casual shrug, "because he knows you would force him into marking her."
Luciver huffed out a sharp laugh. "You’re damn right I would have. I’d have locked them in a room, tossed away the key, and poured wine until the marking happened...How does Luna feel about this?"
"She wants him to live," he said simply.
"How am I supposed to find this true fated mate of his? Damien is unconscious. The queen is missing."
"He will wake up," he said, unhurried. "The poison kills slowly, not all at once. This—is merely a sign that his time is close. Without the queen, he would have been dealing with the effects from the very beginning."
Luciver took a step closer. "Are you saying," he began slowly, "he will be conscious enough for me to beat the truth out of him?"
Morvakar’s lips curved into a chuckle. "You never understood matters of the heart, Luciver. You treat love like a battle to be won rather than a war to be survived. Maybe...maybe I should create you a mate too—since you never found yours. Would be interesting to see how you would do, wouldn’t it?"
"Morvakar, I have one son. One. I love him with everything in me. And I would do anything—anything—for him."
Morvakar’s expression shifted. For a moment, the teasing fell away, replaced by an old ache. "Now you understand how I felt protecting my own son," he said softly, though the words carried an edge of bitterness. "But back then, all you did was banish me forever." His gaze sharpened, pinning Luciver in place. "Interesting, isn’t it? How time has a way of turning the knife in the same place you once cut someone else."
"I understood, truly," Luciver began. "Morvakar, you were my best friend. I loved you. Hell, I still do, you stupid idiot." His lips twitched in a bitter smile. "But being king doesn’t mean that I can play favourites. Look at what’s happening now! I can’t protect my daughter-in-law. I can’t protect my son. I can’t even protect my grandchild—my blood....All the powers in Blood City, every title, every throne, and I still have none where it truly matters."
Morvakar studied him quietly, "I was mad at you for so long."
"I know. I know that I betrayed you. But there was nothing I could do at the time." He exhaled slowly, and the sound was almost a growl. "It doesn’t make me feel any less of a bastard for doing it."
Morvakar shifted his weight, the corner of his mouth lifting as if deciding that lingering in the past was a waste of breath. "I need a favour, though," he said suddenly, almost casually, pivoting the conversation.
Lucivar gave him a dry look. "What is it?"
"There’s an opening in the middle of the forest, just outside the Blood City boundary," Morvakar replied. "Would you take a look at it?"
Lucivar blinked. "That’s all?" His brow furrowed, suspicion sparking beneath his fatigue. "An opening?"
"What?" Morvakar’s face was the picture of innocence. "Were you expecting me to request a human’s head?"
"With you?" Lucivar arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching. "Actually... yes."
Morvakar smirked, the faintest glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Give it time. You never know what I’ll feel like next week."
Lucivar rolled his eyes. "I’m going to leave now before this conversation gets even stranger. Check in on Damien, see if I can get him to tell me where this supposed mate is hiding. If he’s even conscious enough to talk."
Lucivar turned to leave—but something caught his eye. On the far corner of the table lay an open book, its pages covered in cramped, ink-stained handwriting and disturbing sketches. The diagrams were meticulous, elegant, yet what they depicted was far from it—methods for breaking a bloodthirsty vampire, step-by-step as if it were a craft one could master over tea and biscuits. Lucivar’s eyes narrowed as he moved closer.
He stopped just short of touching it, tilting his head to read a jagged scrawl in the margin. "Are you... breaking someone?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he leaned over and studied the notes. One glance was enough. His gaze darkened. This wasn’t for breaking just anyone. It was research on how to break a bloodthirsty trueborn baby.
Morvakar, standing a few feet away, froze. His fingers tightened, the cool steel of his composure slipping for the briefest moment. "Just sharpening my skills..." he said, the words a little too light. Inside, his mind was already shifting into panic mode, calculating contingencies. Luna had been adamant—no one could know about the child yet.