I Raised Him for Eighteen Years

“Your Majesty, it’s too dangerous to save Prince Caelan. I should quietly send him back before anyone notices,” Viola, my maid, whispered urgently.

Viola was loyal, brought with me from my father’s estate, and she always had my best interest at heart.

But this child… I looked at his feverish, flushed face, and I simply couldn’t bear to abandon him.

The wars between kingdoms – what could they possibly have to do with a helpless child?

If I truly sent him back, he would likely be dead within days. How could I live with myself?

“Mother... mother...” the boy mumbled, his small hand suddenly grasping mine, calling out in his fevered dreams.

“How could such a small child be guilty of anything? I am the queen. Can I not even protect one little boy?”

“But Your Majesty...” Viola began again, but I cut her off with a raised hand. I knew exactly what she was going to say.

The palace was cold and ruthless. The emperor was frail and sick, with little time left. I had entered this palace only to become a widow in all but name – how could there be any warmth in such a place?

But this child… fine. I would at least protect his life.

I knelt before the Queen Mother’s palace for three days and three nights, and at last, she relented. She agreed to let me raise Prince Caelan.

However, she asked me, “This child will never sit on the throne. He can’t offer you protection. Do you still wish to do this?”

“I have no regrets.”

I understood her meaning. As queen, I could easily adopt another prince and raise him as my own, ensuring that he would become emperor. Then I could secure my position and influence in the palace.

But I didn’t want to take another woman’s child, and I didn’t want this little life before me to wither away before it had even had a chance to bloom.

The Queen Mother sighed, though her gaze softened slightly.

Deep down, perhaps, even she felt some compassion...

From that day on, her attitude toward me changed. She became warmer, more willing to teach me the ways of palace life – how to rule as queen and manage the vast and treacherous court. Through countless lessons and grim examples, she showed me how to survive in this pit of vipers.

Three years later, the emperor passed away. My father, returning in triumph from the battlefield, brokered an alliance with Lord Alistair, the most powerful man in the kingdom.

Against all expectations, Alistair supported the ascension of eight-year-old Caelan as emperor.

On her deathbed, the Queen Mother cursed me, pointing a trembling finger in my direction: “You will bring ruin to the realm!”

…

I woke with a start, back in the familiar surroundings of my chamber.

Viola, red-eyed and weeping, was at my bedside. Seeing me stir, she finally breathed a sigh of relief.

For a long while, I sat there, disoriented, trying to piece together the events of the previous day.

Caelan had launched a coup, taking the palace by force. He had even lured Lord Alistair to his death.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to ease the splitting headache, but the tears came, spilling through my clenched fingers.

“Your Majesty...” Seraphine began to cry alongside me.

“Please, don’t grieve too much. Lordling… His Majesty is confused right now. He’s not thinking straight. He stood vigil over you all night after you collapsed. He just left for court a little while ago...”

She still called him ‘lordling,’ her heart clearly aching for him. She couldn’t believe that Caelan would do something like this.

I had always remained calm, no matter what had happened in this palace.

Even in the face of knives and swords, I had never felt fear like I did now.

But Caelan – my Caelan – this betrayal was like a knife driven deep into my chest.

I spent the entire day searching for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

It was only late at night, long after the palace had fallen silent, that he finally appeared, reeking of alcohol.

“You’re still awake, Mother? What’s the matter? Thinking about Alistair and can’t sleep?”

He staggered over, his steps unsteady, and grabbed my hand. His eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard.

“Caelan, you’re drunk.”

I tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened, his strength far greater than I expected. The small, soft child I once knew had grown into a tall, imposing young man.

“I’m not drunk, Mother.”

His voice was almost a plea as he leaned closer, his head resting heavily on my shoulder, his body pressing me back into the chair.

“Stop thinking about him. Think about me instead, alright?”

His words sent a chill through me. “Caelan, snap out of it. Get off me!”

But he didn’t listen. Instead, he leaned in even more, his weight pushing down on me. His scarlet eyes were filled with a wild, suppressed rage that I had never seen in him before.

“Why won’t you answer me? What does he have that I don’t?”