Zaliyah woke before the first bell, the lingering static of his nightmares dissolving as he realized where he was. He didn't wait for the maids to assist him. He threw back the heavy furs and rushed toward the nursery, his heart beating so fast with the desperate excitement to see his daughter.
When he pushed open the doors, the room was already humming with activity. The nanny was bent over a steaming porcelain basin, testing the temperature of the water for the baby's morning bath. In the cradle, Sylaris lay still, her chest rising and falling.
Zaliyah didn't say a word. He pulled up a low stool and sat beside the cradle, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of her face. She looked older, more defined, yet her innocence was still a fragile shield against the cold fortress.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Iruna whispered, entering with a mountain of fresh linens and tiny garments balanced in her arms.
"Good morning, Runa," Zaliyah replied, his gaze never wavering from the sleeping baby girl.
Iruna placed the clothes on a chaise, her expression softening as she looked at the cradle. "She looks so peaceful. It's a shame I can't spend time with baby Sylaris today. The Commander has me and Harun running drills with the border scouts."
Zaliyah reached out, gently patting Iruna's head in a rare gesture of affection. "Even I can't spend time with her today, Runa. I only rushed here because I wanted to be the one to bathe her. We're losing so much time as it is. Next week, if the weather holds, we'll take her out, we need to go shopping for new clothes anyway. She's outgrowing her life faster than we can record it."
Iruna smiled, bowed, and quietly exited the room.
Zaliyah reached into the cradle, scooping the his daughter into his arms. He caressed her head, feeling the softness of her new white hair against his palm. A huge, genuine smile plastered itself on his face as he laid her across his lap, his nimble fingers slowly unfastening the buttons of her sleep-silks.
He moved toward the basin and slowly dipped the little girl into the warm, herb-scented water. The warmth seemed to startle her. As the water rose around her chest, Sylaris let out a raw, piercing wail that echoed off the ceiling.
Zaliyah rolled his eyes, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "Uhhhh, you are so dramatic. You're definitely my daughter."
The baby's eyes flew open, wide and crystalline blue. When she realized the face looking down at her wasn't the nanny or a stranger, but the silver-haired man who smelled of home, the cry came to an abrupt, hiccuping end.
"Da-da! Da-da!"
Her face transformed, lighting up with a gummy smile and high-pitched giggles. She splashed her hands in the water, soaking Zaliyah's sleeves.
"Yes, it's Dad not 'dada' " Zaliyah whispered, his voice softening. "Now, can you stop screaming? I have training in an hour. If you keep wailing like that, my brain will hurt, I won't be able to concentrate, and the old man will yell at me again. You don't want a grumpy Daddy, do you?"
Sylaris giggled and gurgled, her eyes locked onto his as if she understood every syllable.
Zaliyah lifted her out, wrapping her in thick, towels. He dressed her with meticulous care, choosing a set of beautiful pink furs that matched the flush of her cheeks.
The maids stood in the corner, watching with admiration. The nanny stepped forward to assist, but Zaliyah waved her off.
"She seems surprisingly tame when you dress her, Your Highness," the nanny remarked. "When it's us, it's literally a war of attrition. She fights like a little cub."
Zaliyah giggled, adjusting a silk ribbon.
"That's because she knows how to behave around her father. Isn't that right, Daddy's little monster?"
The child smiled, her hand suddenly darting out to grip a fistful of Zaliyah's long hair. She yanked with surprising strength.
"Ouch! Bad baby!" Zaliyah exclaimed, instinctively giving her small arm a light, tap.
Sylaris's lower lip trembled for exactly one second before she erupted into another loud wail. Zaliyah rolled his eyes again, though his heart twisted.
"Oh, shush. Cut the drama . I know you're just hungry. That's the only reason you'd cry this hard over a tap."
The maids turned around in unison, granting him privacy. Zaliyah unfastened his tunic, bringing the child to his chest. The aggressive sounds of sucking filled the quiet room. Zaliyah looked down at the top of her head, watching her tiny hands kneading his skin. Does it even taste good? he wondered. Or is she just a gluttonous little creature?
When she finally finished, sated and heavy with milk, the time came for him to leave. As he handed the baby back to the maids, a fresh round of crying started. Sylaris reached out, her tiny fingers grasping the air for him.
A single tear escaped Zaliyah's eye rolling down his cheek.
"Please don't cry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Daddy will be back. I promise. Please, please don't cry anymore,If you cry so much I'm going to cry too "
He pressed a final kiss to her forehead and forced himself to walk out the door.
On the training balcony, the wind was biting, The tutor was already waiting, leaning on his gnarled wooden staff.
"You're late," the old man grunted.
"Really? I couldn't tell. My internal clock must be broken," Zaliyah replied, his tone dripping with his usual sarcasm as he shed his outer cloak.
The old man shook his head. "Let's just carry on. If you want to see your child tonight, you'll earn it."
The training was fierce. For hours, Zaliyah poured every ounce of his will into the iron ring on the pedestal. Twice, he tried to lift it with his mind, and twice, the energy shattered before it could take hold, leaving him gasping and frustrated. He felt the familiar weight of failure pressing on his shoulders.
Then, he thought of Sylaris crying at the door. He thought of the way she needed him to be a shield, not just a father.
On the third attempt, he didn't try to "push" the ring. He reached out with his mind and invited it to move. The air hummed. The iron ring vibrated, then slowly, impossibly, it rose. It hovered three feet above the pedestal, spinning lazily in the air.
"It moved" he jumped for joy "It actually moved , I did it!" Zaliyah yelled, his face lighting up with a radiance that rivaled the sun. "I finally did it!"
He didn't wait for the tutor's praise. He grabbed his cloak and retreated into the night, his boots flying over the stone. He was bursting with the need to share the victory.
He burst into the nursery just as the nanny was preparing Sylaris for bed. He scooped the girl out of her arms, tossing her into the air and catching her with a laugh. The child's happy giggles filled the room.
"Guess what happened today?" Zaliyah asked her, his eyes bright.
Sylaris grabbed a handful of his hair, staring at him with curiosity. Zaliyah turned his gaze toward a wooden toy on the floor. He focused, his purple eyes glowing with a faint, violet light. The toy wobbled, then floated upward, hovering at eye level with the baby.
Sylaris yelled, "Dada!" and clapped her hands.
The maids gasped, watching with admiration. "Your Highness! You finally did it! Should we celebrate this goodness with rice?"
The celebration was interrupted as the twins and Thalassa entered. Iruna rushed forward, her face beaming. "Did you miss Auntie? I missed you so much!" She snatched the child from Zaliyah, spinning around in circles.
Thalassa leaned against the doorframe, a grin on her face. "Our little Zaliyah is not so weak anymore. Careful, or Malachi might start shivering on his throne."
Zaliyah rolled his eyes. "Hardly. But it's a start."
Harun stepped forward, his expression more serious. "How do you feel, Your Highness?"
"Like the most powerful man in the world," Thalassa intervened before Zaliyah could speak.
"Heaven's , Thalassa," Zaliyah snapped, though there was no real heat in it. "You are competing with Xulthas for the most insufferable person in this castle."
"How can we compete for a spot you already occupy?" Thalassa shot back, her grin widening.
Iruna and the baby giggled in harmony, while Harun rubbed his temples in embarrassment.
Zaliyah kissed the child's head one last time before retreating to his own chambers. He was hollowed out by hunger and exhaustion.
He soaked in a hot bath, the maids washing the grit of the training field from his long hair.
Once dressed in soft, white undergarments, he fell onto his bed and drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber.
He woke hours later to a tingling pain in his scalp. He opened one eye to find Sylaris sitting on his chest, her fist tangled in his hair, pulling with all her might.
"I am never catching a break from you, am I?" Zaliyah groaned, grabbing her tiny hand.
"Should I just cut it all off? Then we could both be bald with just little scoops of hair. We'd be a matched set."
The twins entered, Iruna grabbed the child from Zaliyah, Harun quickly exited to the kitchen.
I'm a few minutes he arrived with the Maids, carrying trays of food, the maids settled the food on the table and quickly left. Iruna handed the child back to Zaliyah, who settled her in the crook of his arm.
"Why do you look so fat today?" Zaliyah asked, poking the baby's pudgy thigh.
"Aren't all babies fat, Your Highness?" Iruna asked, setting the table.
"I don't know. Were you fat when you were little, Runa?"
"Yes," Iruna said as she stared at the floor.
"Father used to say I was so fat, fatter than Harun, that it drained my mother's energy whenever she had to carry me. She used to say that was the reason she hated me. That I took too much from her."
The room went cold. The jovial atmosphere vanished, replaced by a silence so heavy you could hear a pin drop. Harun looked at his sister, his eyes filled with a pained, silent grief. "Runa..."
"But I'm skinny now," Iruna continued, forcing a small, brittle smile. "It's a shame Mother isn't here to see. Maybe she'd finally like me."
Zaliyah reached out, his hand resting on Iruna's head. "I like you regardless, Runa. Even if you were fatter. Even if you turned into a worm, I'd still like you. You're mine."
Harun looked at Zaliyah with a blissful, grateful smile.
Iruna helped Zaliyah step down, the tension broke as he began to eat, the sound of his daughter feeding simultaneously filling the room.
Later that evening, Zaliyah carried the sleeping child to the high balcony. Xulthas was already there, leaning against the stone railing. He was dressed in a black silk blouse, unbuttoned at the top to reveal the sharp, chiseled lines of his chest.
Zaliyah stood beside him, with the fat child in his arms. They looked out over the Northwest, a landscape of ancient architecture and endless snow.
"It feels like the Human and Demon realms merged together here," Zaliyah muttered.
Xulthas sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "An ancestor of mine fell in love with a human woman. When they married, he brought her here. He transformed the Northwest so much that it felt like 'home' to her. He wasted centuries building this..." He spoke the word with a hint of disgust.
"The playgrounds, the theaters, the high-class boutiques," Zaliyah replied, remembering the strange sights in the town below.
"Even more than that," Xulthas said.
"For someone with a human ancestor, you definitely do not act like a human," Zaliyah noted.
"And for someone with a demon ancestor, you definitely do not act like one," Xulthas countered.
Zaliyah rolled his eyes. "I still want to talk to you about the child markets, Xulthas. I've seen the reports. I don't think it's proper. It's monstrous."
Xulthas's posture stiffened. "You refuse to stay in your place, Zaliyah. Do not meddle in these affairs. It is the way of the world here."
"No. I will not be silenced. I don't care who you are or whose castle this is. I cannot sit and watch children being exploited, whether they are demon or otherwise."
"Then you'll have to stand and watch,"
Xulthas said, refusing to look at him.
Sylaris let out a sleepy giggle, as if mocking the their stubbornness.
Zaliyah looked at the child he thought was sleeping, he rolled his eyes so hard they almost got stuck at the back of his head .
"I'll have to talk to Malachi," Zaliyah said defiantly. "Maybe he would listen to me. He seems to have a soft spot for children."
At the mention of Malachi, Xulthas's jaw tightened, his face hardening like granite.
But his expression softened as he looked over and saw Zaliyah humming a soft, melodic tune to the child. The anger in the Warlock's eyes faded, replaced by that familiar, unbidden heat.
He noticed Zaliyah shivering in the biting wind. Without a word, Xulthas shrugged off his heavy, fur-lined frock coat and draped it over Zaliyah's shoulders.
Zaliyah looked at him, surprised, and offered a smile.
"If only you cared this much about those children, Xulthas."
Xulthas stood silent, his mind a chaotic whirl of logic and burning desire. I care about you, he thought, but the words died in his throat. I don't care about poor children. I only care about you.
He reached out, his fingers catching a long strand of Zaliyah's butt-length hair. He watched it dance in the wind, slipping through his fingers like fine, white sand.
"When will you cut it?" Xulthas asked softly.
"I won't," Zaliyah said, closing his eyes. The image of Karas's face flooded his mind-the way Karas used to braid it, the way he used to kiss the ends of it.
"It's a gift. It's all I have left."
Xulthas let the hair slip away, the cold wind rushing back into the space between them.