Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 102: When the Medicine Turned to Poison

[On the Northern Road — The Malika’s Camp — Night]

Night had settled over the traveling camp of the Malika.

The imperial caravan had stopped near the edge of a dry river valley where tall stone ridges shielded the camp from the desert wind. Torches burned in iron stands around the perimeter, their flames bending softly beneath the night breeze while Zahryssar knights stood guard in silent formation.

At the center of the camp stood the largest pavilion.

The tent of the Malika.

Thick carpets covered the ground inside, and layered silks hung from the poles to keep the night air warm. A low traveling bed had been prepared in the middle, surrounded by cushions, fur blankets, and small tables filled with medicines and sealed jars.

Levin rested against the pillows, one leg stretched slightly forward while the other remained bent beneath the blanket. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow, but he was not fully at peace.

Beside him sat Iru, kneeling carefully at the edge of the bed while his hands moved gently along Levin’s leg, massaging the muscles with warm oil.

The long journey had only begun, yet the fatigue already showed.

Iru spoke quietly, "Do you feel well, Malika?"

Levin did not open his eyes.

"Yes."

The answer came softly, almost distracted. For a moment only the sound of the night wind brushing against the tent cloth could be heard.

Then Iru reached toward the small table beside the bed, "Then... it would be better if you took the pills now."

Levin’s brow tightened faintly, and his eyes opened halfway. On the table sat the glass jar. White tablets resting inside. This is the same jar that Physician Naram sent.

Levin looked at it for a long moment... then slowly closed his eyes again, "I do not feel like taking them tonight."

Iru paused.

"But Malika..." His tone remained respectful, yet firm. "The physician said the tablets are necessary for your health... especially during travel."

Levin did not reply at once. Inside his mind, a quiet thought stirred.

’Health...’

His fingers moved slightly over the blanket.

’What use are these pills... when I have not felt well since the day I began taking them...’

. . .

. . .

His eyes opened again, slowly; his gaze returned to the jar. The lamplight flickered across the glass. Something in his chest tightened.

"...Bring me the jar."

Iru blinked in surprise, "Yes, Malika."

He stood at once, took the jar carefully, and placed it in Levin’s hand. Levin sat up slowly against the cushions, the movement slower than usual.

He opened the lid; a faint herbal scent rose from the tablets. He brought the jar closer. Sniffed once, then again, his eyes narrowing slightly.

’Nothing strange...’

The smell was normal, too normal. He closed the lid halfway but did not put the jar down. Instead, he stared at it in silence.

Then he spoke quietly.

"Iru."

Iru straightened at once, "Yes, Malika?"

Levin did not look at him; his eyes remained on the pills.

"...Tell me something." His voice was calm.

Too calm.

"In all the years of Zahryssar... how many consorts survived at Silthara Palace?"

Iru froze; the question was unexpected. He hesitated before answering.

"...None, Malika."

Levin nodded faintly. "Yes."

His fingers tightened slightly around the jar, "No consort survived. They all died... one after another."

The lamp flame trembled beside the bed. "No one ever found who poisoned them. Even when I tried to find the traitor, I couldn’t.

Iru swallowed slowly, "Yes, Malika."

Levin leaned back slightly against the cushions, still holding the jar.

"...And yet I am still alive, and now I am carrying his child."

Silence filled the tent. The wind outside grew stronger for a moment, making the silk curtains whisper.

Levin’s thoughts moved faster now as the pieces... connected. His fingers pressed lightly against his abdomen.

’Since the day I began taking these pills...the tug started, even after Zeramet’s pheromone...I still felt the tug.’

His eyes darkened.

’I believed it was because my body is not meant to carry life...’ His gaze shifted back to the jar. ’But what if...’

The thought stopped halfway; he stared at the tablets for a long moment.

Then his voice came low.

"...Iru."

"Yes, Malika."

Levin finally lifted his gaze toward him, cold and sharp.

Not the gentle Malika of the palace, not the tired traveler, but the man who had survived a court where every consort had died.

"Call Physician Naram...Right now."

Iru bowed immediately, "As you command."

He turned and hurried out of the pavilion, the tent curtain lifting as the night wind entered briefly. Levin remained alone.

The jar is still in his hand; his thumb slowly traces the edge of the lid, his voice barely above a whisper.

"...If this is poison..." His eyes hardened. "...then someone inside Zahryssar wants my child dead, and it’s definitely the black serpents."

Outside the tent, footsteps rushed through the night, and somewhere beyond the circle of torches—darkness listened.

***

[Moments Later — The Malika’s Pavilion — Night]

The curtain of the pavilion lifted sharply as hurried footsteps approached.

A moment later, Physician Naram entered, his robe still slightly disordered from being summoned in haste. The torchlight outside flickered across the silk walls of the tent, casting long, wavering shadows that made the chamber feel heavier than before.

Naram stepped forward at once and bowed deeply; his voice carried both concern and urgency. "You summoned me, Malika? Are you unwell?"

Levin sat upright upon the traveling bed, the glass jar resting beside him on the low table. His expression was calm, but the calm felt colder than usual.

Not the calm of rest.

The calm of thought.

"Physician Naram," he said quietly, "I will speak plainly."

Naram lowered his head further, "As you wish, Malika."

Levin’s fingers moved slowly toward the jar.

"I believe something is wrong with these pills." The words fell into the tent like a blade striking stone. "I want you to examine them again."

For a single breath, Naram did not move, and then his eyes widened. He dropped to his knees immediately, bowing so low that his forehead nearly touched the carpet.

"Malika...!" His voice trembled. "You may take my life this very moment if you wish, but I swear upon the name of Urzan himself... I would never harm Malik’s child.

His hands tightened against the floor.

"The heir you carry is the blessing of Zahryssar. No physician of this empire would dare raise poison against such a life."

Levin did not react; he simply looked down at him in silence. Then he stood slowly from the bed, the folds of his robe falling around him like pale smoke.

His gaze returned to the jar, and his voice remained calm, "I am not accusing you. If I believed you had betrayed us..."

His eyes lowered slightly.

"...your blood would already be on this carpet."

The words were not loud, but they carried the weight of absolute truth. Naram did not raise his head.

Levin continued.

"I have read the records of every physician who has served in Silthara Palace." His hand rested lightly against his stomach. "And I know the faith my husband places in you."

He turned slightly, looking toward the lamp where the flame trembled in the night air.

"So I will place the same faith, but you also know what it means... to carry the child of the Silver Serpent Emperor."

Naram swallowed slowly, "...Danger."

Levin nodded once as his fingers tightened faintly against his robe. "Danger on every path, and since the day I began taking these tablets... something has not been right."

Naram finally lifted his head slightly, "What do you mean, Malika?"

Levin’s gaze moved down to his stomach. "...A tug, but not the tug of life. The moment I began taking these pills... I started feeling a tightening inside."

His hand pressed lightly over his abdomen.

"At first I believed it was because my body was not meant to bear children, but even when the Malik stayed beside me... even when his pheromones filled the chamber..."

His eyes returned to Naram.

"The feeling did not leave."

Silence filled the tent. The flame flickered harder now as the wind brushed against the silk walls. Naram’s brows drew together deeply.

"...A tug...?"

Levin nodded.

"Yes." His voice grew quieter. "And it began the same day I started taking the tablets."

Naram’s expression changed; concern replaced fear. He bowed his head again, but this time not in terror—in thought as his voice became steady again, "...Malika, may I examine you?"

Levin did not hesitate.

"It would be better if you do."

He sat back slowly on the bed, one hand still resting over his stomach. Naram rose carefully to his knees and moved closer, placing his travel case beside the bed. He opened it, revealing the crystal instruments he carried for such journeys.

The lamplight reflected faintly across the glass lens. Naram hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

"...Malika."

"Yes."

"If there is truly something wrong with the medicine..." His voice lowered. "...then the danger did not begin on this road."

Levin’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Naram continued quietly, "It began inside Silthara Palace."

"Yes...I know."

The words were calm, but his hand moved unconsciously to his stomach again, pressing lightly as though he wished to feel something through his own skin.

Naram opened the small travel case fully. He placed the instrument carefully against Levin’s abdomen.

"Remain still, Malika."

Levin leaned back against the cushions without protest. Naram’s eyes followed the movement carefully.

At first his expression remained focused, then his brow tightened.

Naram froze, Levin saw it immediately. His own expression did not change, but his fingers curled slightly into the fabric beneath him.

"...What is it?"

Naram did not answer at once.

He stepped back, and for the first time since entering the tent, there was fear in his eyes, not fear for himself. Fear for what he felt.

Levin’s throat moved slightly as he swallowed, though his face remained composed.

"...Say it."

Naram hesitated, then spoke carefully, "Malika... I must perform a blood reading."

Levin’s fingers twitched faintly, his hand moved protectively over his stomach before he even realized it.

"...Did something happen to them?"

The question was quiet, too quiet. Naram lowered his head slightly.

"I cannot be certain yet."

He reached back into the case and removed a smaller box wrapped in dark cloth.

"This instrument is not enough."

He unfolded the cloth slowly. Inside lay a narrow bowl of black metal, its surface engraved with ancient runes older than the empire itself. Beside it rested a thin silver needle and a small vial filled with dark red powder.

Levin watched silently. Naram spoke as he prepared the ritual.

"This is an old method... older than the court records of Zahryssar." He placed the bowl on the table beside the bed."A blood-reading spell from the first physicians who served the Serpent Kings."

He poured a pinch of the red powder into the bowl, then added a drop of oil from a small glass vial. The mixture began to smoke faintly, releasing a bitter herbal scent.

Naram turned to Levin, "I must take a drop of your blood, Malika."

Levin extended his hand without hesitation.

"Do it."

The silver needle glinted in the lamplight as Naram pricked the tip of Levin’s finger. A single drop of blood formed slowly, dark and bright beneath the flame.

Naram let the drop fall into the bowl. The moment the blood touched the powder, the runes along the metal edge lit up. A faint red glow spread across the surface, forming thin lines like cracks of light.

Naram began chanting under his breath, the words old and heavy, spoken in the language of the first serpent priests.

The air inside the tent grew colder, the flame beside the bed bent sharply, though no wind entered. The blood inside the bowl moved.

Not flowing.

Not still.

Moving as if something inside it resisted the spell.

Naram’s voice faltered, his eyes widened and the glow turned darker, not red, black. He stopped chanting. The silence that followed felt louder than the wind outside.

Levin watched him without blinking.

"...Physician."

Naram did not look up, his hands trembled slightly over the bowl.

"...Malika..." His voice came dry. "There is something... in your blood."

Levin’s fingers tightened slowly against the blanket, "...Something... what?"

Naram finally lifted his head, fear stood plainly in his eyes now.

"...Poison."