Amara moved beneath the covers, wincing as her eyes adjusted to the bright light coming in through the tall windows. Her hand reached out across the bed, but Rhett wasn’t there, and instead, all she felt were the cold sheets. He had been gone for some time, long enough for his and Silas’s warmth to disappear.

  She sighed softly, looking at the empty side of the bed. They had arrived in Casshire late in the night—well past midnight. The streets had been dark and empty, with no one outside to celebrate the king and queen’s arrival. Amara had been grateful for that. After nearly a week of traveling, returning home for the first time in months without fanfare seemed like a blessing.

  Finally, after a few minutes of lying there, Amara sat up, glancing around the room. It was a large bedchamber, filled with different shades of gold and blue. She and Rhett were staying in what had once been the late Queen’s chambers. According to Rhett, the rooms had sat empty for years after her death.

  However, before they left Dunstead, he had sent a messenger pigeon ahead, requesting that their furniture be moved down from their suite on the third floor. It wasn’t a permanent change, just temporary until something else could be figured out.

  But for now, the Queen’s rooms would have to do for their needs. It was at the end of a corridor, which offered them privacy—something both Amara and Rhett appreciated, especially now that they had Lilibeth.

  Across the room, through a few doors, was the old nursery—the same one used by Rhett and Emmett when they were babies. It was one of the reasons Rhett had chosen to use his mother’s old rooms. The nursery allowed them to keep Lilibeth close, while also giving Libby and her family a private room all to themselves.

  Amara hadn’t been against it when Rhett suggested they not return to their newly renovated apartments. It had been redone with them and the twins in mind—a place meant for love and growth. But it held too many painful memories, ones Amara wasn’t ready to deal with.

  She slipped out of bed, pulling on a silk robe and tying it around her waist before crossing the bedchamber. She went through one set of doors, which was a small sitting room—likely once meant for children to play in. Walking through one more door, she entered the nursery.

  Everything was bright and warm, with sunlight spilling in through two open windows. Molly Rose and Elara sat on a set of chairs by the cribs. The newly named Duchess had Lilibeth cradled in her arms, the baby fast asleep with her mouth parted slightly.

  “Well, look who’s finally awake,” Elara teased quietly.

  Amara sheepishly smiled as she moved forward to check on her daughter.

  “Why didn’t anyone wake me?” She inquired curiously.

  “Because Rhett ordered us not to,” Molly Rose replied, tilting her head. “He said to let you rest as long as you needed.”

  Amara’s smile softened at this. Of course, he had… She barely slept the last few nights, insisting on nursing or caring for Lilibeth herself. This was to give Libby and her family a chance to be together, and not to wake with every cry or whimper. Libby had assured her it was no trouble, but Amara had wanted to give her and Archie space—time together to reunite after so long apart.

  “Has she been fed?” Amara questioned, suddenly realizing how painfully full her breasts felt from not nursing Lilibeth for a while.

  “Libby took care of her earlier this morning,” Molly Rose nodded. “Though, knowing the little princess, she’ll be hungry here shortly.”

  Amara nodded before glancing around the room. There was no one else besides her sister, friend, and daughter.

  “Where's everyone else?”

  “Skye took them on a tour of the palace,” Elara answered. “Claire and Liza just went down to the kitchens to grab lunch for us.”

  "While we wait on them, why don't we go get you dressed?" Molly Rose suggested, glancing at Amara's robe and nightgown.

  The young queen agreed with a nod, helping her friend up from the chair before heading back into the bedroom. Once inside, however, they quickly remembered that nothing had been unpacked. Of course not—it had been late when they arrived, and everyone was far too tired to do more than crawl into bed.

  “Well,” Elara sighed, kneeling beside the first chest and undoing the straps tying it shut. “I suppose we’ll have to dig if you want something other than a nightgown.”

  Amara chuckled and moved toward one of the larger trunks near the foot of the bed. Meanwhile, Molly Rose settled herself into an armchair with the baby, moving slowly and keeping one hand under her belly. Though she didn’t say anything, Amara could tell she felt sore and probably strained.

  As the young queen lifted the heavy lid of the trunk, she glanced over her shoulder.

  “How are you feeling, Molly Rose?”

  “There’s a bit of tightness in my lower belly,” the Duchess sighed, shifting Lilibeth to her other arm. “There’s a bit of cramping every now and then. But nothing awful, just… uncomfortable.”

  Elara paused, looking up from the chest she was going through.

  “Should I go get Stella?”

  “No need,” Molly Rose shook her head. “She’s already looked me over. Said it’s likely just the strain from all the travel. A few of her older maids agreed—nothing to worry about unless it worsens.”

  “So, I’m assuming you’re not going to Apathle?” Amara inquired, raising a brow.

  “No… Tristan’s nervous I’ll go into labor on the road, and honestly… I think he’s right. Besides,” she paused, chuckling to herself. “I don’t think he’s ready to leave Rhett’s side. Not for a while.”

  Amara nodded, not surprised at all. Everyone she interacted with who had gone to war with Rhett seemed enthralled by her husband. While she was in Dunstead, several men told her of his bravery and selflessness. He put others first, and went without if that’s what it took to keep his soldiers fed and rested.

  With a soft sigh, she continued looking through the trunk, which was mostly filled with Rhett’s clothes. But when her hands brushed against something made of glass, she paused. She lifted a bundle of his tunics, surprised to see two glass jaws beneath them.

  “Strange,” she murmured, lifting them carefully before taking them to a side table. She placed them down gently, turning them in the sunlight.

  Once she noticed, Elara came over, leaning down to glance at the jars. One had a grayish-black, powdery substance, like ash from a fireplace. The other had a blue-green hue, which sparkled slightly in the light.

  “What are these?” She inquired curiously.

  “I’m not sure,” Amara shrugged, staring at the jars. “But I don’t want them getting broken. I’ll ask Rhett about them once he comes back.”

  “Could it be the ashes from the Drurus dragons?” Molly Rose questioned as she watched the women. “He did have them tucked away, after all. Like maybe he wanted to hide them.”

  “I hope not,” Amara frowned, dropping her hands to her sides. “I wouldn’t want a memory of Arnav nor any of his horde here in Cuthbert Palace. And if you’re right, and it is their ashes, I’ll toss the jars out myself.”

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  Molly Rose and Elara nodded, agreeing with Amara, though not wanting to press the subject further. Arnav, Kendra, Cerys, and even Anwen were sensitive subjects that only sparked anger or sadness. The less they talked about them, the sooner their names could be forgotten with time.

  Amara stepped back, went to another trunk to search for her clothes, and did not give the jars another glance.

  After several minutes of searching, Elara finally found one with neatly folded gowns. She pulled out a dark purple dress, a fresh chemise, and a set of laces.

  Just as she was tying the last of the ribbons on the back of the gown, the door to the private sitting room opened, and Claire and Liza walked into the bedchamber.

  “Oh good, you’re up,” Liza said with a grin, carrying a silver tray with food in her hands. “We’ve brought lunch. I’m sure you’re starving.”

  “Actually…” Amara murmured before rubbing her tender breasts. “Let me wake Lilibeth first. I want to see if she’ll nurse. If not, I might need to express some milk before it gets too painful.”

  Claire and Liza nodded in understanding and moved toward the low table between the couches, setting down the tray. The smell of the food filled the air, but Amara turned her attention to Lilibeth, who was still in Molly Rose’s arms.

  The Duchess handed the baby over, and Amara took her daughter carefully, cradling the warm little bundle against her chest. She sat on the nearest couch, lowered the front of her dress, and gently began waking the baby by stroking her cheek and squeezing her tiny hand.

  Lilibeth stirred with a whimper, shifting slightly before letting out a loud cry. Amara quickly guided her to her breast, whispering soothing words to the baby. A moment later, to the young mother’s relief, Lilibeth latched on and began nursing eagerly.

  With the baby feeding contentedly, the others sat around the low table, helping themselves to the food. Claire passed around plates while Liza poured cups of warm apple cider. They soon started discussing things that had happened in the palace during the months they were gone—changes made to the household staff, new things in the kitchens, and a few funny stories.

  Amara, though, only half-listened. Her attention was on Lilibeth, watching her intently. When the pressure lessened on the first breast, she gently moved the baby to the other, thankful that Lilibeth was still hungry.

  Once Lilibeth had finished feeding and let go of the nipple with a soft sigh, Amara adjusted her gown and gently burped the baby. Claire came over with a small bassinet from the nursery, placing it beside the couch. When the little princess had settled down, Amara wrapped her in a gold blanket before placing her in the bassinet. The baby wiggled for a minute before eventually closing her eyes.

  Moments later, the bedchamber door opened again, and Rhett stepped inside. Everyone except Amara stood to curtsy to their king, but he hardly seemed to notice. His gaze found his wife immediately, and a smile spread across his face. He approached her, leaning down to kiss her softly. Then, he turned his attention to Lilibeth, reaching into the bassinet to stroke her cheek.

  Rhett glanced over his shoulder at Molly Rose and gave her a small nod. The Duchess caught his meaning without him needing to say a word. Rising to her feet, she gestured for the others to follow her. Claire and Liza stood, gathering the emptied cups and dirtied napkins, but leaving the food behind.

  Once the door was shut, Rhett turned back to Amara, scooping her into his arms. She gasped, grabbing onto him tightly as he sat down on the couch before placing her in his lap.

  “How did you sleep, little dove?” He questioned before inhaling the honeyed scent of her hair.

  “Well enough,” she murmured. “Still a little tired, though. When did you wake?”

  “Sometime after dawn,” he answered, reaching down to grab a piece of dried fruit from the tray. He took a bite, chewing on it before giving Amara the other half. “When I couldn’t go back to sleep, I went to my study. I had letters piling up on the desk, so I figured I might as well see if anything was urgent.”

  “Was there?” Amara inquired before Rhett fed her another bite.

  “Most were from other kingdoms offering condolences, support, or aid,” he shrugged, leaning back slightly to see more of his wife. “All kind gestures, but a little too late. However… there was a letter from Vespera. It arrived two days ago.”

  “And?” She tilted her head, curious about what they sent.

  “Marius accepted the role of Vassal King. He asked for two weeks to settle his affairs and pack up his household before he and his wife, Solenya, come to Casshire.”

  “I sent a reply this morning—told him to take all the time he needed,” Rhett continued. “Then I wrote to Jesup so he and Aliyah were kept in the loop.”

  Amara nodded as her fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. However, after a minute, she glanced toward the side table.

  “While we were searching for my clothes, I came across two jars,” she murmured, gesturing to them with her head. “What’s in them?”

  “The one on the left is my father’s ashes,” he answered quietly, staring at the jars. “The other… that’s Blaise’s.”

  “Oh, Rhett—I’m so sorry,” Amara gasped, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t have touched them if I had known.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I need to bury them in my mother’s gardens, and had intended to do it today, anyway. Do you want to come with me?”

  “Of course,” she nodded without any hesitation. “I’ll ask someone to watch Lilibeth—”

  “No,” Rhett interjected gently, glancing at the bassinet. “I’d like her to come too.”

  “Then we’ll take her,” Amara whispered before kissing his jaw.

  She stood, scooping up Lilibeth into her arms as Rhett gathered the two jars. They left the Queen’s chambers and made their way through the palace. The halls were still mostly empty, with only a handful of nobles having returned to court. It would take some time, perhaps a month, if not two, before the palace was as full and busy as it used to be.

  They stepped outside, where a thin layer of snow was still on the ground. Being tucked away within the Nocktal Mountains, Casshire’s winter lasted a little longer, but in exchange, their summers were milder and easier to tolerate than in some of the southern regions of Sylvaris.

  Rhett and Amara walked down a winding path until they reached the smaller, more private portion of the gardens that once belonged to his mother. Here stood two unity trees—one planted by Yasmin and the other by Julian. Beneath the Queen’s tree was a single azalea bush, marking the resting place of Rhett’s stillborn sister.

  Amara stopped several feet away, looking around at the overgrown garden. Vines and weeds had taken over the space, and most of the greenery had turned brown due to the winter.

  Rhett pulled a small hand shovel from his waistband and knelt down on the ground. He dug the first hole directly in front of his father’s tree, placing the jar of Julian’s ashes inside. Then he moved not far away and dug the second hole, slightly to the left of his sister’s grave. There, he placed Emmett’s ashes. Once he covered the holes with dirt, Rhett sat back on his heels.

  “I don’t ever want to dig another grave,” he whispered as tears fell from his eyes. “Never again.”

  Amara stepped forward with Lilibeth in her arms, resting a hand gently on his shoulder.

  “Do you think their souls moved on? Even though their bodies were burned?” He questioned in a shaky voice, glancing up at her. But Rhett already knew the answer—the Creators could only take a soul from a body planted in the ground. Without that, the soul would be forced to remain in limbo, where it could never have a new life.

  “I don’t know,” Amara replied, trying to remain strong for him. “But… I would like to believe that they’re at peace.”

  Rhett closed his eyes as more tears rolled down his cheeks and soak the ground beneath him. He knelt there for a while, staring between the graves of his family and those he loved. Eventually, he wiped his face with the back of his hands, though the tears never truly stopped.

  He rose to his feet and turned to Amara, holding out his arms. Without a word, she passed Lilibeth to him. He shifted her gently in his hold until she faced the row of graves.

  “This is Lilibeth,” he said in a hoarse voice. “She’s ours now—Amara’s and mine. We’ve claimed her, and we’ll raise her as our daughter. If… if you can hear me, or see us here, I hope you’ll offer her your blessing. She deserves joy, and gentleness, and every bit of good the world can give.”

  He paused, swallowing back the emotions tightening in his throat. Then, he knelt slowly, settling onto one knee in front of his mother’s tree.

  “Lilibeth,” he said softly, glancing down at the baby in his arms. “This is your grandmother. She would have adored you. I know that with everything in me. My mother and her dragon, Indigo, would have taught you to swim, just like they did me.”

  His voice wavered as he shifted slightly to face the small, simple grave at the foot of the azalea bush.

  “And here,” he whispered. “Is your Aunt Annett. I never got to meet her, but… I’ve always felt her absence. I think she would’ve loved you too, even though I’m sure she would have married a prince halfway across the world.”

  Rhett sighed, blinking through tears, and turned toward his brother’s grave.

  “This,” he said, taking a shaky breath. “Is your Uncle Emmett. He had the biggest heart of any person I had ever known. He loved deeply, even when it hurt him. Whenever I thought I couldn’t go on, he was there, never asking for anything in return. I should have been the one to protect him, but more often, it was the other way around.”

  Rhett bowed his head as his shoulders started to tremble.

  “I will tell you so many stories about him… If ever there’s a name I never want you to forget, it’s Emmett’s. He deserves to live on, even after I am gone.”

  And then, finally, Rhett turned to the last grave.

  “This is your grandfather,” he murmured in a low voice. “He would’ve spoiled you senseless. You would have been his little shadow, I’m certain of it… He and Draven would have built the whole world around you, just to see you smile.”

  That was as far as he could go. His voice broke, unable to say anything more. He pulled Lilibeth closer to his chest, pressing a trembling kiss to her forehead as tears slid down his cheeks.

  Amara knelt beside him without a word, wrapping her arms around him. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, unsure if there was anything she could say to ease Rhett’s pain.