Rhett stood outside, staring at the greenhouse from a distance. The morning air was cold as it blew past him, but he barely noticed. He had been standing there for what felt like hours, lost in his thoughts with his hands clenched at his sides.

  He needed to go to the toolshed to get a shovel, but that meant walking past the greenhouse… the place where Amara had been attacked.

  It had been several days since it happened, long enough for the blood to dry. But he knew that even the faintest hint of Amara’s scent would break him. It would add to his already guilt-ridden heart, suffocating him further.

  He should have protected her.

  He should have listened to the witch’s warnings.

  Instead, Amara had suffered alone, and they had lost their unborn twins.

  “Your Majesty?”

  Rhett tensed up, and his entire body snapped to attention at the unexpected voice. He turned, noticing James, who stood a few feet away, watching him cautiously.

  “I’m sorry,” James said quietly. “For what happened to the Queen… and the little princes.”

  Rhett’s heart slammed against his chest, and his pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out James’s words. Without thinking, he moved closer, closing the distance in an instant. His hands grabbed the front of James’s cloak, and with a growl, he shoved the man back, slamming him against the wall.

  James’s eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t resist. He simply raised his hands in surrender.

  “What part did you have to play in this?” Rhett demanded with a snarl. “Two of your former companions attacked Amara. So tell me, James—how did you help them?”

  James flinched at the accusation, but he didn’t struggle.

  “I didn’t know,” he said quickly. “I swear to you, I had no part in it. I heard her screams and ran for help. That’s all.”

  Rhett’s fingers tightened for a moment before he abruptly let go, shoving James away. He pressed a trembling hand against his chest before letting out a shaky exhale.

  “Eena’s wrath…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

  James straightened his back as he adjusted his cloak. He looked at Rhett warily, then, in a poor attempt at lightening the mood, he gave a small smile.

  “To be fair,” he murmured. “I did once try to help get you killed. So I suppose it makes sense that you’d be suspicious of me.”

  Rhett glared at him, but James only lifted his hands in apology before his expression fell.

  “But I meant what I said. I had nothing to do with this. I didn’t help Myles or Willie. But I am sorry. Because if I hadn’t been speaking with Liza in front of the castle, I might have gotten to the greenhouse sooner—perhaps fast enough to stop Willie before he hurt her.”

  Rhett let out a slow, weary sigh before leaning against the wall. James’s apology had caught him off guard, and though he hated to admit it, it helped ease some of the doubts.

  “No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “The only one to blame is me.”

  “Why would you say that?” James frowned.

  “Because I was warned,” Rhett admitted as his shoulders sagged. “In my dreams… over and over again, I was shown what would happen. But I ignored it. I even told the witch who was giving me those nightmares to leave me alone.”

  James took a deep breath through his nose before crossing his arms as he stared at the king.

  “Well, I don’t know anything about dreams or warnings,” he murmured. “But I do know that the only ones we can really blame are Myles and Willie… and anyone who helped them.”

  At the sound of their names, Rhett’s hands curled into fists. He had been so overwhelmed by everything—the loss of his sons, the grief, and Amara’s request for an annulment—that he had nearly forgotten about them.

  “Do you know anything about the search?” He questioned as he turned to James. “Have the soldiers found them?”

  James tilted his head slightly, furrowing his brows in confusion.

  “Search?”

  “Yes.” Rhett’s frown deepened. “The search for Myles and Willie. What have the guards found? Where did they go?”

  “There was no search,” James stated with a shake of his head.

  “What do you mean, no search?”

  “Because they never made it off the castle grounds,” James explained. “Myles and Willie were caught before they could escape. They’ve been in the dungeons ever since.”

  Rhett stood frozen in place. He had assumed they were out there, running free and evading justice. But no—they were here. Beneath his feet..

  “Do you want to see them?” James questioned when he noticed the shift in the king’s expression.

  The temptation was strong. Rhett could go to them. He should go to them. He wanted to see the terror in their eyes and to make them feel the agony they inflicted on Amara. However, there was something more important that Rhett needed to do.

  “No,” he murmured, forcing his hands to unclench. “I need to dig the grave for my sons.”

  “Would you like help?” James inquired.

  Rhett hesitated, unsure if he wanted the company when he started digging. But after a moment, he gave a small nod.

  “Could you get me a shovel? I… I can’t bring myself to go to the toolshed.”

  “Of course!”

  Without any hesitation, James turned and jogged down the path toward the toolshed. Rhett remained where he was, staring at the ground beneath his feet. Minutes later, James returned, holding the shovel in both hands. He didn’t speak as he offered it to Rhett, who accepted it without a word. Then, together, they walked through the snow toward the northern gardens.

  They climbed up a small hill, where over a month ago, Rhett and Amara had placed stakes, marking where they would plant their unity trees. From here, they would have a view overlooking Hilhom Lake. But now, it wouldn’t be just their trees that would be placed there.

  Their sons would rest here, too.

  Rhett knelt in the snow, just a few feet in front of Amara’s stake. Slowly, he pressed his palms against the frozen ground. Scales rippled across his hands and arms, creating heat that melted the snow. Once the area was clear, Rhett pushed himself upright and picked up the shovel.

  The grave didn’t need to be large. The coffin was small—too small. However, with every piece of dirt he moved, the weight of the shovel grew heavier and heavier.

  His sons would never take their first breaths. Never feel the warmth of the sun. Never hear their mother’s voice.

  The ache in his chest grew, and before he could stop them, tears slipped down his face. They burned against his skin, but he kept digging. He had to. No matter how much it hurt, this was the only thing he could do for his sons.

  When the grave was finally finished, Rhett let out a shaky exhale before wiping a hand over his face. He stepped back, staring down at the dark, open ground before him.

  “Go let the others know it’s done,” he whispered hoarsely.

  James nodded solemnly and turned toward the castle, leaving Rhett alone. For a moment, the king simply stood there in silence. Then, he turned toward the bench that sat between the stakes. He knew Amara wouldn’t be able to stand through the burial—not with her injuries.

  With a quiet grunt, he lifted the bench and moved it to face the grave. He stared down at the wood for a second before sitting down and burying his face in his hands.

  Minutes passed in silence before the doors to the castle opened. One by one, people came outside, making their way toward the gravesite. Some glanced at Rhett with sympathy, while others merely bowed their heads respectfully before finding a spot to stand.

  At last, Westin appeared, carrying Amara in his arms.

  Rhett stood instantly at the sight of her. A wave of grief washed over him, threatening to crush him, but Rhett forced himself to move. Silas had heated his cloak, and Rhett quickly removed it, draping it over the bench so Amara could be warm.

  When Westin reached the bench, he gently set Amara down. She didn’t look at Rhett or even acknowledge him. But as soon as she was seated, she took the edges of his cloak and pulled it tightly around herself.

  It was a simple action.

  And yet, it made Rhett’s heart stutter with hope.

  But he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to push the hopeful thoughts away. Just because Amara accepted his warmth didn’t mean she forgave him.

  It wasn’t long before two guards approached, carrying a small coffin between them. They stopped beside the grave, waiting for the ceremony to begin. The last to arrive was the High Priest of Onlon and Gwendolyn, who carried a tray of offerings for the Gods.

  Silence fell over the gathered crowd as the priest stepped close to the grave and raised his hands.

  “Today, we gather to lay to rest Prince Elliott and Prince Bennett. Two souls taken before they could see the sun or feel the wind on their skin. Their time on this world was brief, but they will not be forgotten. Once the Creators have embraced them, their souls will continue on into their next life here on Altyria.”

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  There was a pause before the priest motioned for all to bow their heads.

  “Creators, we pray to you, begging that you watch over these beloved souls. May you guide them with warmth and cradle them with love. May you carry them across gentle tides and lift them high into the stars. And may you grant those who remain behind the peace they need to rest their hearts.”

  As the prayer came to an end, the guards carefully lowered the tiny coffin into the grave. The priest turned to Gwendolyn and gave her a small nod. She stepped forward, kneeling beside the grave as she began placing the offerings inside.

  First, she set a small sunstone on the coffin for Eena, the Goddess of the sun and life.

  Next, she placed a bundle of sage in the grave for Pheena, the Goddess of earth and nature.

  After that, it was a vial of seawater, an offering to Avion, the God of seas and storms.

  Then, a feather as white as snow was given to Nisana, the Goddess of the wind and sky.

  Lastly, an old stone with a prayer carved into it was placed for Otarr, the God of wisdom and craftsmanship.

  “May these offerings bring the princes blessings in their next life,” the priest stated as Gwendolyn stepped back. “And now, it is time for their bodies to return to the earth, and their souls to be given back to the Creators.”

  A guard moved forward, reaching for the shovel to cover the grave. But Rhett was already stepping past him, holding the tool tightly in his hands.

  “I’ll do it,” he said firmly.

  The guard hesitated before giving a small nod. Rhett approached the grave, biting the inside of his cheek as he looked down into the hole. The first scoop of dirt was the hardest. It hit the coffin with a thud that sent a shiver through him. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep going.

  Each time he lifted the shovel, his arms trembled—not from exhaustion but from grief and guilt. In the back of his mind, Silas was saying quiet prayers for the princes.

  May their next life be happier…

  May they never know pain…

  May they never know sorrow…

  The grave was filled, bit by bit, until finally, there was nothing left but a mound of dirt. Rhett stepped back and handed the shovel to a waiting guard. He wiped his wet cheeks with the back of his hand, but the ache in his chest was still there, heavier than before.

  One by one, those gathered stepped forward, whispering prayers before turning back toward the castle. However, Rhett remained. He stood there, unmoving, staring at the ground that now held his sons. He had thought the hardest part would be digging the grave.

  But standing there, knowing it was done…

  That was much worse.

  After several long minutes, Rhett looked around, realizing he was no longer surrounded by mourners. It was just him and Amara now.

  His chest tightened. He had assumed Westin would have taken her inside by now, back to the warmth of the castle. But instead, she remained on the bench, wrapped in his cloak. She didn’t speak. She didn’t wipe the tears falling down her face. She just sat there, staring at the grave.

  Rhett clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to go to her. To take her in his arms and whisper every apology that his broken soul could find. To kiss away her tears, to press his forehead to hers, to tell her that somehow, in some way, he would fix this—though he knew deep down he never could.

  Perhaps she wants to grieve alone? Silas suggested.

  Rhett sighed, agreeing with his dragon. Maybe Amara needed space away from others… or more specifically, space from him. Hesitantly, he turned to Amara, but then his entire body stiffened.

  She was looking at him.

  Not at the grave. Not at the sky. At him…

  His heart raced anxiously, and he struggled to breathe. But then, Amara suddenly broke down into sobs—choked, heart-shattering sobs.

  Before he could react, she moved the cloak aside and held out her arms… reaching for him. Rhett’s vision blurred as his body moved instantly. He crossed the distance in a heartbeat, barely aware of the tears slipping from his eyes. As soon as he reached her, he pulled Amara to his chest, lifting her from the bench so that they could stand together and cling to one another.

  “They’re gone,” Amara sobbed into his chest, gripping onto his tunic.

  “I know,” he choked out, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. His grip tightened around her carefully, staying mindful of the wounds. “I know, little dove. I’m so sorry… so very sorry.”

  Her cries intensified, shaking them both. Rhett felt the warmth of her tears seeping into his shirt, but he didn’t care. She was breaking apart in his arms, and he had no way to put her back together.

  “I should have kept them safe,” she whispered in a broken voice. “I should have—”

  “No,” Rhett interrupted. “No, Amara. It’s not your fault.”

  Her body trembled violently against him, but she didn’t argue. She just wept, and for the first time in months, Amara was in his arms again.

  But it didn’t feel like healing.

  It felt like they were drowning together.

  After several minutes of holding one another, when their tears had finally dried, Amara pulled back. Rhett helped her sit back down on the bench, carefully adjusting the cloak around her to keep her warm. Then, with gentle fingers, he reached up and wiped away the last of her tears from her cheeks. But to his surprise, Amara grabbed his hands, pulling them away from her face.

  “We need to talk,” she murmured.

  Rhett’s heart dropped. Her voice might have been soft, but it made his stomach twist with anxiety.

  This was it… she was going to leave him.

  Still, he nodded and took a step back, giving her space. His now-empty hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  Amara lowered her gaze to her lap before touching the marriage bracelet on her left wrist. She twisted it in silence until she finally took in a deep, shaky breath.

  “I don’t want to get an annulment,” she said at last.

  Rhett froze, and for a moment, he wondered if he had misheard her. But his heart thundered against his chest as her words finally sank in.

  She didn’t want to leave him…

  A slow, stunned smile spread across his face, and before he could stop himself, he stepped toward her, reaching out. But Amara lifted a hand, stopping him.

  “There are going to have to be changes,” she said firmly. “And things you must agree to before we continue this marriage.”

  Rhett swallowed the lump in his throat, but he nodded quickly, lowering himself onto his knees in front of her.

  “Of course,” he whispered. “I’ll do anything if it means I can keep you, little dove.”

  Amara’s hands tightened around each other on her lap before she let out a deep breath.

  “The first thing,” she began. “When you get ready to choose an heir… I want you to at least talk to me first. Before you announce anything.”

  Rhett furrowed his brows, but he answered her without hesitation.

  “I’ll do more than that. Rather than just getting your input, you’ll be helping me along the way.” He reached up, squeezing her knees gently. “The decision won’t be mine alone to make—it’ll be ours. Together.”

  Amara nodded, feeling relieved by his answer. Encouraged, she shifted slightly, moving her hands closer to where his rested.

  “Next,” she continued, quieter now. “If you ever change your mind about wanting a child of your own… I want you to tell me first. Before you go to another woman.”

  “I would never—”

  “Promise me,” she interrupted, fighting to hold back tears.

  Rhett sighed, hating that she thought he would willingly go to another’s arms. But he understood, too. This request wasn’t just about children—it was about trust. About knowing where she stood in his life.

  “I promise,” he said, brushing his fingers against hers. “I will tell you if I ever have the desire to find another.”

  Amara swallowed hard but nodded before hesitantly curling her fingers around his.

  “What else?” Rhett inquired as he squeezed her hands gently. “What other promises or assurances do you need? Because I will give them all to you now.”

  “I don’t want to stay here anymore,” Amara whispered, biting her lower lip. “I can’t… I can’t lay in that bed one more night, not with the nursery next to it. It breaks my heart every time I look at that door… And… I don’t want to stay in this castle anymore.”

  Her voice cracked on the last word, and before she could wipe her tears away, Rhett was already reaching for her, brushing his thumbs against her cheeks.

  “I… I know there’s a war going on,” she murmured. “But is there somewhere else I can go? Please?”

  Rhett’s heart clenched because he hated that she had to ask. Hated that the place meant to be her home had become a place of unbearable pain.

  “I can send you to Vespera,” he suggested, taking her hands in his. “Kenna and Mathias will take great care of you.”

  “How far away is their palace from where you’ll be?” Amara inquired hesitantly.

  Rhett thought for a moment before answering honestly.

  “It’s far. By carriage, Aston is about a week from our borders. But there are plenty of dragon shifters there,” he added quickly, trying to reassure her. “If something was wrong, they could fly to me immediately.”

  “I don’t want to be that far from you,” she admitted in a whisper.

  He exhaled slowly before nodding. He didn’t want her that far away either. He furrowed his brows, thinking of another option.

  “How about this?” he started softly, watching her expression carefully. “We’ve pushed Drurus out of Jux and followed their army into their own kingdom. You can stay at Emmett’s castle. It’s as close to me as I can safely keep you—without putting you in armor and on the front lines.”

  “Is it safe being that close to Drurus?” She frowned.

  “Well, we’ve left about two hundred Vesperan soldiers in the city to guard the Drurus prisoners,” Rhett explained. “Noah and Matteo are staying there too, acting as messengers. They’ll keep an eye on you; if anything happens, they’ll protect you.”

  Amara was quiet for a minute as she looked down at her lap. Finally, she nodded.

  “Then I’ll go to Jux.”

  Relief washed over Rhett. He smiled slightly, bringing her hands to his lips and pressing a kiss against her palms.

  “And, if you’d like… we won’t come back here.”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I will want to come back. At the very least, to plant our unity trees and visit the boys. But I won’t stay in my room again.”

  “That’s fine,” he said without hesitation. “We can just share mine.”

  “Actually,” Amara murmured as she tried to avoid his gaze. “That’s another thing I want to change… I don’t want us to have separate rooms—ever.”

  Rhett blinked in surprise, but she continued before he could respond.

  “I don’t want there to be a your bedchamber and my bedchamber,” she said firmly. “I just want one. For us.”

  Warmth spread through Rhett’s chest—one that Silas didn’t cause.

  “After the fighting is done, we’ll meet with some master architects to redesign our rooms… in every castle and palace. How about that?”

  A small, genuine smile formed on Amara’s lips.

  “I’d like that.”

  Her fingers played with the end of his sleeves absently, but then she hesitated. She looked down, almost as if afraid to ask for more.

  “But I also want you to promise me something else,” she murmured.

  “Anything,” Rhett said without hesitation.

  “I don’t want you to leave me alone at night… Not when we’re under the same roof. No matter what happens, no matter how angry or upset you are, I don’t want to sleep apart from you. Please.”

  He lifted his hand, gently tilting her chin so their gazes could meet.

  “I promise you,” he said firmly. “Even if I’m mad, even if I’m hurt or frustrated—I will always come back to our room. I will always lay in our bed with you at night.”

  When Amara slowly nodded, Rhett pressed more kisses onto her hands.

  “Then that settles it,” he murmured.

  For the first time in what felt like an eternity, something settled in his heart. He wasn’t losing her. He wasn’t losing them. And he would spend the rest of his life proving to her that she made the right choice by not wanting an annulment.

  Amara gave him a small smile, but it was fleeting. Her gaze drifted toward the grave, and slowly, the warmth in her expression faded.

  “There’s one more thing I want you to do.”

  Rhett stared at her, tilting his head in confusion. But he waited patiently for her to continue.

  “I want you to kill Willie.”

  His expression darkened instantly. A low rumble went through his chest as his grip on her hands tightened. Then, his hazel eyes turned dark orange, and when he spoke again, his voice was meshed with Silas’s.

  “You didn’t need to ask that of me,” they said roughly. “We were going to kill him. Along with Myles.”

  “Good,” she whispered, satisfied by his words. But her expression didn’t change. “I don’t care about Myles. You can kill him here, and it won’t bother me. But Willie… I want you to avenge our sons. However, I don’t know if I could handle knowing anything about it.”

  She exhaled, shutting her eyes for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

  “Not because I still have feelings for him,” she clarified. “But because I want to forget everything about Willie. So, I want you and Silas to take him away—far away—and do whatever it is you plan to do. But I don’t want to know how it happens, and more importantly, I don’t want to know where it happens. Do it somewhere I will never go. I refuse to let his memory taint anything else I love.”

  Rhett nodded as another growl went through his chest.

  “I will handle it,” he vowed. “Him and Myles—tomorrow morning. I will leave before you wake, so you won’t see where I go. And… as much as Silas yearns to see you, we won’t return afterward. That way, you won’t be able to guess what direction we came from.”

  “Once it’s done, I’ll go straight to Jux,” he continued. “And I’ll send Matteo back here. By tomorrow night, you and everyone else will be on the road to Jux.”

  “Do we have to wait for Matteo?” She questioned.

  “I would prefer it if you had a dragon escort, yes,” he nodded firmly. “And as much as I want to take you myself, I have to return to the front lines.”

  “I understand,” she sighed. Her hands let go of his, but then her brows furrowed as a thought came to her. “Why wait until tomorrow morning?”

  “Because I’m a greedy man who wants to be by your side the rest of the day,” Rhett answered seriously.

  Before Amara could respond, Rhett slipped his hands beneath her and lifted her effortlessly into his arms. She let out a soft gasp, but her tension melted away as he adjusted her against his chest.

  “And,” he added, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “I want to sleep by my wife’s side, at least for tonight. If you'd allow me to?”

  “Alright,” Amara whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before resting her head against his shoulder.