Chapter 779 Its Too Late

Seraphira schooled her expression into an unreadable mask, completing the visage of a queen fully down to business.

“About me?” She sounded intrigued. “I would say that is surprising.”

Out of Violet’s mates, Asher Nightshade was the one who had drawn her attention from the start. The boy was ever vigilant. Ever attentive—even though his aura was heavy like someone bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Tell me then, what is it about me you wish to discuss?” She chuckled, deliberately taking the situation lightly. Or rather, that was her own way of coping with the unexpected tension.

Seraphira lifted the cup to her lips and was about to take another sip when Asher announced, “We know you’re sick.”

The words landed like a blade.

The announcement came so suddenly and unexpectedly that her hand trembled, the hot tea sloshing over and burning across her palm.

“Your Majesty—” Lila rushed forward with a tablecloth, about to tend to her hand, but the Queen lifted her palm sharply, halting her. Her gaze remained fixed on the cardinal alphas.

“Where did you hear such news?” she asked.

Her voice was calm, but the temperature in the room dropped so abruptly it was a wonder the air itself didn’t freeze.

Asher did not flinch.

He took his time, lifting his cup, sipping once more before setting the porcelain down with care. “It wasn’t difficult to guess,” he said evenly. “You were unable to use your magic earlier today to heal your daughter. Then Lila slipped, asking about your health. It didn’t take much effort to put two and two together.”

Lila froze, mortification and fury warring across her face. This was her fault. She should have been more careful.

Queen Seraphira sat ramrod straight now.

“What do you want?” she asked coldly.

Asher’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think I want? The mother of my mate is sick. I need to know whether that sickness is life-threatening.”

“That is none of your business,” Lila snapped.

“Exactly,” the Queen concurred, voice composed even as her body betrayed her tension. “Everyone gets sick once in a while. Even the immortal Fae aren’t spared from such things.”

“Well,” Asher said, “are you dying? Yes or no. It’s quite a simple question, Your Majesty.”

The Queen rose abruptly to her feet.

“I believe you have overstayed your welcome, Alpha Asher,” she said, each word clipped, forced through clenched teeth. “Lila will escort you out.” Her temper, for once, was unmistakably frayed.

But even under the intensity of her attention, Asher remained unmoved.

“With the way you’re unable to answer my question without resorting to aggression, I’d say I’m right. You’re dying.”

The queen turned fully toward him now, her face drained of color, pale as parchment.

Asher continued, relentless. “And this is where you’re wrong, Your Majesty. If I was able to figure it out, do you truly believe it’s only a matter of time before your enemies do as well?” His gaze hardened. “Or should I be more precise—your husband?”

Their eyes clashed, tension crackling between them.

For a heartbeat, it seemed the queen might stand her ground. Then she exhaled slowly, the fight bleeding out of her, and lowered herself back into her seat.

At her side, Lila was so tightly wound she looked ready to lunge and attack Asher herself if that was what it took to protect the secret.

Alaric deliberately stayed silent.

In moments like this, Asher was unmatched. Where Alaric might have pushed—or even begged—for answers and earned himself an unceremonious dismissal, Asher applied pressure with surgical precision. He cornered, challenged, and closed every escape route until compliance was no longer a choice but an inevitability.

He negotiated the way predators hunted.

Patient. Precise. Inevitable.

“What do you want?” she asked. Again.

Asher winced, as if the very idea that she believed he intended to blackmail her physically offended him.

He lifted his gaze, those slitted gray eyes boring into hers. “How much time do you have left?” he asked. “Because I’m certain Violet is not ready to rule the Free Fae yet.”

“I think what he’s trying to say is—” Alaric cut in quickly, sensing the sharp edge Asher was already pressing against the queen. He offered a polite smile, warm and disarming, knowing full well that Asher was about as useful as a wet stick when it came to handling emotions that weren’t Violet’s. “—what is wrong with you, Your Majesty?”

Asher shook his head. Left to him, this would be handled swiftly and cleanly.

That was Asher—efficient, relentless, and utterly indifferent to bruised feelings so long as the result was achieved.

Queen Seraphira and Lila exchanged a look, the kind that weighed risk against necessity.

Then the queen looked back at him. “If I am to share this with you,” she said carefully, “you must promise this conversation will not leave this room.”

“Unfortunately,” Asher replied without hesitation, “that is a promise I cannot make.” His tone was unapologetic. “Griffin and Roman already know. And I will not keep a secret from Violet that will shape her life forever. She has only just gotten her mother back, I doubt she would appreciate learning you’re dying when it’s too late.”

Alaric immediately stepped in, shooting Asher a sharp look. “What he means,” he said smoothly, “is that we trust you to tell Violet when the time is right. For now, we want to help.”

Asher ignored him entirely. Subtlety had never been his strength, and he had no intention of pretending otherwise.

Queen Seraphira released a deep, resigned breath.

“They call it Thal’voryn Shai,” she said quietly. “Disease of the bone, in your language. Simply put, my body is dying and can no longer hold my power. The more I use my magic, the shorter my lifespan becomes.”

“And how short is that lifespan?” Asher asked, his eyes narrowing. Then more urgently, “No. Is this condition hereditary?”

The question was for Violet.

“No. Thankfully,” the queen answered immediately. “I would never wish such a fate on my daughter.”

Asher merely exhaled, relief slipping out before he could stop it.

“As for how much time I have…” Seraphira said, her gaze distant, “you shouldn’t hold on to hope too tightly.”