CHAPTER 147: RESPECT

Ariston

"I thought you’d be back at avoiding me again." Drakkar said, "Then why are you sitting next to me right now?"

I looked at him, "I can do whatever I want," I acted arrogant to hide the truth.

He shook his head, "You think I don’t know?" He didn’t look at me, but my eyes shot back at him

"You do?" I felt a little scared at that moment, but-

"Oh, who would know better than me." He looked disappointed.

!!!

His words stung

"And so I know you won’t be sitting here just to console me." He said and my jaw tightened

"Well then you probably don’t know me then," I replied then regretted saying it, which was immediately followed by the feeling of wondering if I do regret it.

"Yea, right," He rolled his eyes, "You’re only here to ask about your father."

!!!

He wasn’t wrong. I did want to ask about my father, but that didn’t take the fact away that I was worried about him too. And when I was here now to make sure he was alright.

But I chose to hide that

"So?" I asked, "Where is my father?" I gritted my teeth. This isn’t why I’m here.

"..." Drakkar didn’t answer right away. He stared at the lake, then let out a soft sigh, "I heard he’s staying at an inn."

!!

"He is?" I looked at him in surprise, "Why?"

He scoffed, "You can just go and ask him." He slipped his hand in his pocket and took out a paper, "The details of his stay are here," He passed it to me while holding it between his fingers. I took it with both hands.

The unfeeling of disbelief brewing inside of me.

"Thank you..." I whispered, my eyes glued to the paper, "You kept your word."

Drakkar’s golden eyes were serious, "There hasn’t been a single time-" I looked at his face, he was already looking at mine, "When I didn’t keep my word." I paused, "I have never lied about anything."

I gulped softly, then looked down in shame.

***

Aelin

The heels of my boots clicked softly against the floor of the corridor, the sound echoing in perfect rhythm with the steady beat of my heart.

It was strange, how still this place could feel despite being so full of life. Guards stood at every archway—tall, armored demons with eyes like glowing embers and the discipline of a thousand battles. Yet... they didn’t flinch when I passed.

No one did.

Where once I might have seen suspicion in their eyes—unease at the foreign girl walking beside their Prince, or assumed deference owed only to Draegon—now, I saw something else entirely.

Two maids who were walking against me paused when they saw me, passed me a soft smile and then gave me a deep bow filled with grace.

I nodded my head at them and kept walking.

It was indeed strange.

I turned the corner when a guard came into view. He was surprised when he saw me, but then his eyes lit up and he gave me a deep bow as well, "Good afternoon Your Highness."

Respect.

Not fear. Not calculation.

Genuine, quiet admiration. All the demons seemed to have changed since I publicly displayed my power.

I caught the way one young soldier bowed slightly, hand over his heart. Another—a servant girl with silver horns tucked under her veil—offered a faint smile and lowered her gaze in reverence as I passed.

Word had spread.

About the clearing. About the burst of light. About the Saint magic that came from my hands and annihilated every abyssal creature within reach.

There were talks of how I easily defeated the spider-nun too.

I reached up to touch my temple, where the skin still felt warm on some mornings.

As I turned the corner, the ornate blackwood doors to the council chamber came into view—already open, revealing a half-circle of high-backed chairs and a single table stretching before them. The air was thick with old paper, ink, and tension.

I stepped inside, my gown whispering over the polished floor—a deep crimson silk lined with gold, one of the ceremonial Queen outfits that had been sent for me weeks ago, though I hadn’t worn it until now.

I wasn’t used to fancy clothes like this, but I decided that I should start now that I was a Queen.

And...

I wanted to be someone more suited to stand beside my husband.

Draegon sat at the head of the table. His black hair was neatly styled. His purple eyes met mine, flickered down my form, then back up.

There was something warm in them for half a second— after which he passed me a soft smile, as if telling me what I was wearing suited me.

!!!

It made me happy but then his smile faded as he turned back to the map spread across the table.

Draken and Drakkar were seated on either side of him, leaning forward in twin stances of coiled readiness. Ariston was already mid-sentence as I took my seat beside Draegon.

"—but Alishay didn’t name anyone," Ariston said grimly, tapping his finger on the table. "She knew something. You could see it in her eyes."

Draegon’s jaw tightened. "She knew exactly who started it. And chose silence."

"You think she was protecting someone?" I asked.

Draegon shook his head. "No. I don’t think so. Since she joined the dark side, she must agree with their morals and want to see how far they can go."

There was a pause. The only sound was the low creak of Draken’s chair as he leaned back.

"She was strong," Drakkar murmured. "Stronger than I thought possible. That black milk... whatever it did to her, it made her power flare like wildfire."

"True, but power corrupts," Ariston said darkly. "That’s always been the truth, hasn’t it? Anyone who gets the taste of being strong, want more of it."

There had been something bothering me for a while.

I looked at him. "What about the others in the forest? The ones who drank the milk, they looked a little off?"

"Maybe they weren’t as lucky," he said, "Maybe the black milk doesn’t make everyone strong."

"They were unstable," Draegon added. "Even I wasn’t immune. The blood from the nun that got into my wounds... it wasn’t even the black milk, and it still began to eat me alive from the inside out. The milk is even more volatile."

I swallowed. "Then what happens to the ones who can’t take it?" I felt something cold stirring in my stomach,

"Looking at the condition of the demons we found in the forest, it must corrupt them instead of giving them any power."

"Doesn’t this mean the whole cult thing is even worse? Shouldn’t people stop?" I asked

"And you think that’ll stop people?" Drakkar asked softly.

"No," Draegon said with a quiet, bitter laugh. "If there’s even one in a hundred chance that someone could gain that much power and survive it... someone will always take it."

"That’s the world," Ariston muttered. "Built on hunger for power."

A silence fell across the table. The words hung there, heavier than anything we could cut through.

It wasn’t just about the worshippers anymore.

This was a movement.

A belief system.

A lure. I looked down at my hands.

The weight of things settling onto my shoulders. If anyone could fight this whole thing efficiently. It was me...

I couldn’t afford to be weak anymore.

But,

I have never been this strong either...

I turned to look at them—Draken, Drakkar, Draegon, Ariston—each bearing the weight of what they’d seen, what they’d done. The remnants of war clung to them in the way they sat, in the way they kept their shoulders squared, eyes sharp.

But my voice was soft when I asked, "What happens to the ones who don’t survive it?" I asked, "If it doesn’t make them strong, but corrupts them, What happens then?"

Drakkar raised an eyebrow, confused. "The ones who drink the black milk?"

I nodded. "If they don’t react well to it. If their body can’t... handle it. Do they just die?"

The room was still.

A long breath slipped from Draken’s nose as he crossed his arms. His red eyes—so sharp they often looked like blades themselves—locked with mine. There was no mockery there, no humor.

Only something grim.

"I hope they’re dead," he said flatly.

Silence followed. Even the fire in the corner hearth seemed to hush.

***

The meeting had ended long ago. The words spoken there still echoed in my ears

As I walked through the dim halls of the palace, the whispers followed me — not with malice, but with reverence. Bows, nods, smiles. I should grow used to the way demons look at me now. Not just as Draegon’s consort. But as someone in her own right.

But I knew it would take me some time.

When I reached my room, I shut the door behind me with more force than I intended. The latch clicked into place. The silence was absolute.

The moonlight trickled through the balcony curtains, casting long shadows over the furniture and shelves. The fireplace crackled softly, and the air smelled of the faint lavender oil that someone had lit earlier to soothe my nerves. It hadn’t worked.

My feet moved on their own — toward the vanity. My hand hovered for just a second before I knelt and reached beneath it. My fingers brushed against the cold metal key tucked into the velvet pouch I had hidden days ago. The key that matched one drawer, and one drawer only.

I slid it into the lock.

The mechanism gave way with a soft click.

Inside the drawer, wrapped in cloth, was the scroll.

Seraphine’s scroll.

I stared at it. My hands didn’t move for a moment. Just the sight of it made my heart pound faster — not in fear, but in anticipation.

My fingers brushed over the old parchment. It was heavy. Heavier than it looked, imbued with magic, maybe even intention.

What’s inside?

Would it change everything I thought I knew about the abyss? About the war? About the very things I’d come to call my reality?

Would it show me how to help?

I could feel the pull of it. Like it wanted to be opened. As though the words inside were pressing against the parchment, begging to be read.

But something inside me hesitated.

What if things change forever?

What if I can’t go back?

I clutched the scroll tighter.

Am I really strong enough for all of this?

Me

Alone?