The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 58

Chapter 58: The Weight of a Queen’s Gaze

The silence stretched as the Queen of the Elven Empire stepped forward.

Aeloria El’Leather was a presence unlike any other.

Where Zareth carried his noble lineage with a mix of rebellion and quiet burden, Aeloria embodied it completely.

She was grace, she was power—she was the weight of an entire kingdom in the form of a woman.

Ed, despite all he had been through, felt something unfamiliar coil in his chest as she approached.

Not fear.

Not intimidation.

Something heavier.

Something that made him feel small in a way he couldn’t quite understand.

Her lavender eyes locked onto him, scanning, reading, analyzing.

Not with hostility, but with something much worse.

Curiosity.

Concern.

And something that looked dangerously close to understanding.

Then, finally—

“You saved my son.”

Her voice was smooth, refined, every syllable carrying the weight of someone who was used to being listened to.

Yet there was no coldness in it.

Only certainty.

Ed swallowed.

He had been expecting something else.

Praise, maybe. Or skepticism.

But not this—this quiet, steady acknowledgment.

“I… I guess,” he muttered, shifting under her gaze.

Zareth frowned beside him. “You ‘guess’? You literally—”

Aeloria raised a hand, and Zareth fell silent.

It wasn’t a demand, wasn’t even a gesture meant to be commanding.

But it worked.

Her eyes remained on Ed. “Tell me.”

Ed hesitated.

Something about the way she said it—so simple, so absolute—made it impossible to refuse.

And so he did.

Not the full truth, of course.

Not about how he had fought in a way no child should be able to.

Instead, he painted himself in simpler strokes.

A boy without a home.

A boy who had to survive however he could.

A boy who had been in the right place at the right time when Zareth needed help.

He shows himself as a helpless orphan child.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Ed said, his voice quieter now.

“I was just… there. And I couldn’t let him die.” Ed said.

Aeloria listened without interruption, without so much as a flicker of emotion betraying her thoughts.

But when Ed was done—when his voice trailed off into something close to uncertainty—she finally moved.

Slowly, she knelt.

It was such a simple thing.

And yet, for a Queen, for someone of her status, it felt impossibly grand.

She was now at his level.

Looking at him, not down at him.

“You speak as though your life is of lesser value than my son’s,” she said, her tone unreadable.

Ed flinched slightly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Didn’t you?” Aeloria asked.

He had no answer.

Aeloria studied him for a long moment.

“How old are you?” She asked.

Ed hesitated. “…Ten.”

The Queen’s expression didn’t change, but something in her gaze softened—just enough for him to notice.

“A ten-year-old child,” Aeloria murmured, as if testing the words. “Living alone. Fighting alone. Surviving alone.”

Ed didn’t reply.

Because what could he even say to that?

He had heard similar words before—pitying, dismissive, laced with disbelief. But none of those people had ever understood. None of them had ever cared.

And yet, as he sat there, battered and exhausted, the Queen of the Elven Empire took his situation seriously.

That was dangerous.

Because it made something tighten in his chest.

He had fought for his life for seven days in a city he knew nothing about. Wounded, alone, without a single person to turn to. He had survived by pushing forward, by not stopping, by making sure no one saw him at his weakest. He had done what he always did—adapt, endure, keep moving.

But now—

Aeloria reached forward.

Ed didn’t flinch, but his body tensed as she brushed a stray lock of hair from his face.

The touch was light. Careful. Intentional.

“You must have been very strong,” she said. “To endure that.”

Her voice was still calm, still composed. But beneath it, something lingered.

Something quiet.

Understanding.

Like she knew what it meant to endure.

Like she had seen it before.

Ed’s throat tightened.

He had no memories of a mother. No memories of a father in this life.

And yet, sitting there, under her gaze, he felt—

Warmth.

Recognition.

Acknowledgment.

He hated how easy it was to let his guard slip. How easy it was to let the exhaustion, the hunger, the isolation—everything he had bottled up—press down on him now that someone saw him.

Zareth shifted uncomfortably. “Mother…”

Aeloria didn’t look at him. Her attention remained solely on Ed.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Ed blinked. “What?”

“You saved my son’s life,” she said. “You protected him when you had no reason to. That is not something I take lightly.”

The air around them seemed to still.

“So, tell me, Ed—what is it that you want?”

For the first time in a long, long time—

Ed hesitated.

Because he didn’t know.

What did he want?

His hands curled into the fabric of his borrowed clothes, his mind racing for an answer.

Security. Stability. A place where he wouldn’t have to fight for every scrap of food or sleep with one eye open.

But saying that out loud—showing that kind of vulnerability—was dangerous.

Instead, he let the silence stretch, let uncertainty flicker across his face. He needed Aeloria to believe him, to see a lost child grasping for something he couldn’t name.

And it worked.

Before he could respond, her voice cut through his thoughts.

“If you have no answer,” she said gently, “then stay here. With us.”

Ed’s breath caught.

Zareth, too, looked up in surprise.

But the Queen remained as calm as ever.

“You have nowhere else to go,” she said. “You have no home, no family, no certainty of what tomorrow will bring.”

Her lavender eyes softened, just slightly.

“But here—you will not have to fight to survive. You will not have to wonder if you’ll wake up alone. You will not have to fear the night.”

‘Plan successful,’ Ed thought.

But even as he acknowledged it—even as he knew this was the best option he could have hoped for—

That warmth in his chest didn’t quite fade.

It was like something beneath him was asking for love….