Chapter 123: Beneath the Bloodlines
The manor had finally quieted. In the moon - silvered stillness of Eva's Private quarters, the child slept curled like a blossom, breath steady, hair fanned across her pillow. She clutched Seraphina's old scarf in her sleep — an anchor against dreams and loneliness both.
Evelyn lingered in the doorway for several long seconds, as if memorizing the sight. The golden lamplight from the hallway brushed gently over Eva's profile, catching the delicate ridge of her brow, the upturned nose that was Evelyn's own. Her fingers itched with the ache of truth she hadn't yet spoken. But not tonight.
"Come," Vivienne said softly behind her. "The study's quiet."
Evelyn nodded once and followed, her bare feet silent on the wood floors. The door closed behind them with a click, and only then did either woman breathe fully.
The old study was scented with clove oil, paper, and firewood. A decanter of plum wine sat waiting beside two glasses. Vivienne poured. She did not ask if Evelyn needed it tonight — she knew.
"I saw it," Evelyn said finally, voice tight. "She wrote it in L••••."
Vivienne sat. "The poem?"
Evelyn nodded. "It was… regal. She understands power, even if she doesn't know why. Not yet."
Vivienne handed her the glass. "You're worried."
"I'm terrified."
The silence between them stretched long and low.
"She's not ready to know it all," Evelyn said at last, the words a slow, weighted confession. "Not the rest. Not yet."
"She knows about the de Mercière line," Vivienne said gently. "That was already more than most ever learn of themselves at her age."
"Yes. But the de Mercière side is… safe. Quiet. There are no cousins sharpening daggers or uncles clawing for a crown. It's a dwindling line. Twelve living. Eva is the final heir. The last thread of silken blood." Evelyn looked into her wine. "That alone was enough to make me abdicate."
"You didn't just abdicate," Vivienne murmured. "You disappeared. Vanished into the shadow of a pseudonym. Hid her. Hid yourself."
"And I would again. If Maxwell knew — if Lioré ever suspected —"
"They don't," Vivienne said evenly. "Not yet. You've been careful." We've been careful".
"She's our daughter we'll protect"
"But I saw the Lioré crest surface on the records in G•••••," Evelyn whispered. "Only for a moment. Someone's brushing close. There are too many secrets clustering like rot in the archives. And if any of them ever link her to Solenne…"
She stopped.
The light flicker in the hearth.
"I know," Vivienne said. "She'd become a target for every remaining legacy clawing for meaning."
Evelyn didn't speak for a long time.
"Do you think I was wrong?" she asked at last. "To keep it all from her?"
Vivienne didn't answer right away. She stood and moved to the window, pulling the curtain back to glimpse the garden beyond. Moonlight brushed the hedge maze in silver. "I think you did what a mother does. You protected her."
"She's everything," Evelyn whispered. "And she doesn't even know."
Earlier that day, Evelyn had taken Eva to the second - floor archives — a tucked - away room with stone walls and locked drawers, inherited when they acquired the Ainsley estate here in G••••••. It was where she kept genealogies, birth charts, and worn heirloom records, hidden beneath false names and coded emblems.
It had started innocently enough: Eva was asking questions about her maman's side of the family. So Evelyn opened a single drawer. A single parchment.
"This was my mother's crest," she said gently, laying the paper flat. "The house of de Mercière."
Eva leaned in. "It's pretty. But… lonely."
"Lonely?"
"There's only one name beneath it. Yours."
Evelyn hesitated, then pointed to the edges of the paper. "There used to be others. Eleven lines in all. My mother was the tenth. I was the eleventh. And now —" She looked at her daughter. "You're the only one left."
Eva was quiet. "Are they dead?"
"Some. Others disappeared. Some simply vanished from the records as though they never existed."
Eva's eyes grew round. "Why?"
"Because it was dangerous to be known. Even before your birth. Even when the de Mercière power was already dwindling."
Eva ran her fingers along the inked edge of the crest. "Do they have magic?"
"Not magic," Evelyn said carefully. "Legacy. Reputation. There was a time when the de Mercières advised kings. Wrote the laws that ruled nations. But they never sought thrones. They shaped the people who held them."
"And now I'm the only one?"
Evelyn's heart twisted. "You are."
Eva looked up with her usual quiet bravery. "I'll protect it."
"You don't need to," Evelyn said gently. "You only need to be."
Eva shook her head. "If I'm the only one, then it means something. I'm not just me — I'm… everyone."
And Evelyn, for a long time, couldn't speak.
*****
Back in the study, Vivienne poured a second glass of wine.
"She's already making her own meaning," she said. "Don't rob her of that by loading her down with ancient wars."
Evelyn nodded slowly. "I won't tell her about the Maxwell's. Or Lioré. Or the Solenne line. Not until she's grown. Not until she understands how dangerous the truth can be."
Vivienne studied her. "But we'll prepare her?"
"Yes. Quietly. Gently. She'll learn languages, history, politics, art. Warfare, strategy, legacy. She'll come to know herself without knowing the titles. So when the truth finally comes, she won't flinch."
Vivienne swirled the wine in her glass. "You believe she's the convergence."
"She is the convergence."
They said it together.
A silence fell over them.
"You told me once," Vivienne said slowly, "that if Maxwell ever knew the truth of your maternal bloodline, they'd want to claim her."
"They wouldn't just want her," Evelyn murmured. "They'd break the world to possess her. Because they'd realize — she isn't just heir to one forgotten house."
"No," Vivienne said quietly. "She's heir to everything."
Evelyn stood and walked toward the large map pinned above the fireplace. She touched three points: the old province of Lioré in the north, the mountainous lands of the Solenne dynasty to the east, and the now-broken territory once ruled under the Maxwell banner.
"All three," she said. "Eva carries them all. Lioré blood, the de Mercière line—buried, but real. Maxwell strength from my father. D'Aragon oldest royalties. And the Solenne thread…" She hesitated.
"You believe it's not just legend?" Vivienne asked softly.
Evelyn nodded. "It's not legend. My grandmother told me once — when I was too young to understand — that there were whispers of divine lineage. That the Solenne daughter was the origin of Aira thru Aphrodite and Vaethea D'Aragon, the goddess of dusk and the goddess of love. Molded by the goddess of war Athena. That our bloodline carried traces of not one, but four aspects."
"Athena, Aphrodite, Solenne, and D'Aragon," Vivienne said, voice lowered. "Wisdom. Love. Shadow. Lust"
"Yes," Evelyn whispered. "But there's more."
Vivienne stiffened.
Evelyn turned toward her. "Aira was no ordinary goddess. She was not mortal. Not fully. The legends claim she was a daughter of both night and flame — a succubus with a mortal heart, a vampire queen given divine breath. Her children bore royal hunger and celestial grace."
"She was myth," Vivienne said, though her voice trembled.
"Perhaps," Evelyn said. "But myths don't leave birthmarks in the shape of crescent moons. My grandmother had one. My mother too. I have it. And now Eva —"
"She has it," Vivienne finished.
Evelyn nodded.
"It's not just blood," she said. "It's what wakes inside the blood."
Vivienne returned to the window, her voice barely audible. "And she doesn't even know."
"No," Evelyn murmured. "But she will. One day."
That night, under the moonlight, Eva stirred in her sleep.
She dreamed of light dancing on ink and velvet, of languages she didn't yet understand but could somehow read. She saw crests woven into cloth, swords carved with names not yet spoken. She wandered a palace with no name — its walls made of glass and stars — and heard the sound of a woman's voice calling through the dusk:
"Imperium cordis…"
She didn't know what it meant.
But she whispered it as she slept.
And the wind shifted.
The next morning, Eva awoke to find a small leather - bound notebook resting on her bedside table. She blinked in confusion and picked it up. Inside, on the first page, written in Evelyn's script, were the words:
"For the empire you will build,
even when you forget it was yours to begin with."
And beneath that:
To Évangeline "Eva" Claire de Mercière - Solenne - D'aragon - Maxwell - Lioré - Alias "Ainsley"
My daughter. My heir. My joy.
— Maman
Eva ran her fingers over the page. Then she opened a fresh sheet, picked up her pencil, and began to write.
Imperium cordis.
Thronum non peto.
Sed ubi amo, regno.
(The empire of the heart.
I do not seek the throne.
But where I love, I reign.)