As Rhett stepped out of Amara’s chambers, he wasn’t surprised that a crowd had gathered in the corridor. All the talking ceased at his appearance, and everyone turned to look at him. The first person to move was Molly Rose. She didn’t hesitate, brushing past him without so much as a glance before disappearing into Amara’s room. He sighed, not surprised by her reaction. If anything, he had half-expected her to slap him first.

  Noticing the others were waiting to go in, Rhett stepped aside and began walking down the corridor. He looked briefly at Elara, Finley, and Riley, but when he passed Amara’s father, Rhett’s gaze immediately dropped to the floor. He couldn’t face Westin. Not after everything he had done. Not after breaking the promise he had made—to protect her, to make her happy. In fact, it felt as if the complete opposite were true.

  The young king kept walking, avoiding the gazes of everyone else, until feet suddenly appeared in his line of sight. He stopped, slowly looking up to see Stella and Kieran standing before him.

  “Tristan is doing well,” Rhett stated before they could speak. “He hasn’t been injured, and he’s fought bravely. You should be proud.”

  Without another word, he moved to walk past them, convinced they weren’t happy with him. But just as he made it a few steps, Stella spoke up.

  “Rhett…”

  He flinched at the sound of his name, bracing himself for anger or blame. But instead, to his utter shock, Stella stepped forward and embraced him. A moment later, Kieran followed, wrapping his arms around the young king.

  Rhett held his breath and his entire body tensed at the unexpected warmth. He had thought he had no more tears left to shed, but standing there, held in their arms, he crumbled. Like a child being soothed after a nightmare, he trembled in their arms, overcome by everything that had happened.

  “We are so, so sorry, Rhett,” Stella murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “We tried our best to keep Amara safe, but we—”

  “No,” Rhett interrupted with a shake of his head. “Neither of you is at fault. I’m the one to blame. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t sent Amara to Onlon.”

  “And what would you have done? Kept her in Casshire?” Kieran questioned as he crossed his arms. “Do you really think those two men wouldn’t have found a way to get to her there? At least here in Onlon, she was far from the fighting. We had plans in place to get her to Vespera if something happened to you. If she had been in Casshire, getting her out of the kingdom would have taken longer—been more dangerous.”

  Rhett opened his mouth to argue, but Kieran didn’t give him a chance.

  “Even in the heat of the moment, you thought of her safety. You made the best choice you could with the time you had.”

  Rhett clenched his jaw, struggling to see it that way. He wanted to believe Kieran was right, but guilt had already dug deep into his heart and soul. Rather than argue, though, he merely gave a small nod. Stella sighed softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

  “You need to rest,” she said. “I’ll bring you some food in a little while.”

  Rhett didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and continued down the corridor, moving slower this time. He hesitated when he reached the staircase that split the hall in two. With a glance over his shoulder, he noticed that Stella and Kieran had entered Amara’s chambers. No one remained to watch him.

  Rather than head toward his own bedchamber, Rhett turned and descended the stairs. The castle was quiet, but the guards who had been missing earlier were now in their places, standing at attention as he passed. He headed toward the back of the castle, where an old temple used to be. But now, it was the Sanctum of Rest, the place where the dead were brought to be cleansed and prepared for burial.

  And there, standing in front of the double doors, as if she had known he would come, was Gwendolyn.

  “You want to see the twins, don’t you?” She inquired with a slight frown.

  Rhett swallowed hard, nodding once.

  “I need to see them.”

  “Rhett…” the witch hesitated. “That’s not the way to remember them.”

  “But, I need to see them,” he insisted. “Please. Just once before they are buried.”

  For several seconds, she stared at him. Then, with a sigh, she relented, pushing open the door. Inside the Sanctum, the air was cool and smelled of burning incense. The room was lit up with several torches on a wall, illuminating the single table placed in the middle. Upon it rested a dark wooden box.

  Rhett struggled to breathe as he stopped beside the table. Gwendolyn went to the opposite side, resting her hands on the lid. She didn’t open it immediately. Instead, she reached inside, adjusting something Rhett couldn’t see before slowly lifting the lid.

  Inside lay two tiny, still bodies. The twins were curled on their sides, facing one another as if they had just fallen asleep together. A golden baby blanket with white dragon designs covered their small bodies—all except for one of the twins’ arms resting on top of it. Their faces were uncovered, revealing rounded cheeks and tiny noses.

  They were perfect…

  Except they weren’t breathing.

  Rhett blinked back tears as he reached out a trembling hand. He brushed his fingertips over the small, pale hand, struggling to maintain his composure at the softness of the baby’s skin. Choking back a sob, he moved upward, gently stroking their dark blonde hair—almost like his—before touching each of their cheeks.

  “They were boys,” Gwendolyn murmured, watching him closely. “Amara named them Elliott and Bennett.”

  Those were the names from his dreams… Hearing them only added another blade to his heart. Rhett let out a shaky breath before turning his attention to the blanket. He moved to pull it back, to see them, to see the damage done to their bodies. But before he could, Gwendolyn reached out, stopping him.

  “You don’t need to see what’s beneath there,” she said firmly.

  He looked up, meeting her gaze. Rhett wanted to argue with her, but he couldn’t. Even Silas didn’t want that image of their sons burned into their mind. Finally, after a moment, he nodded, letting go of the blanket.

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  Trying to lighten the mood, Gwendolyn spoke up again.

  “I’ve gathered the offering for the Gods already. I chose the best items for the little princes. And I’ve even cut a little bit of their hair, so that Amara could keep a piece of them with her.”

  “Thank you,” Rhett whispered as he continued to look down at the babies—his sons. He wanted to memorize every detail of their faces. Then, after a long silence, he looked up at the witch. “Would they have had dragons?”

  Gwendolyn hesitated at first but eventually nodded.

  “They would have been identical—dark green with black wings.”

  Rhett closed his eyes briefly, exhaling slowly as he imagined what they would have looked like. They would have been strong and fearless creatures, looking like dark emeralds soaring through the sky. However, he would never get a chance to watch them fly, hear them laugh, or see them smile. All he would have of the twins was what remained in the box in front of him.

  After a moment, he glanced back up at Gwendolyn.

  “How many children would we have had?”

  “I won’t answer that question,” the witch frowned.

  “Why not?” Rhett questioned. “You said you can’t change fate directly, but this won’t change anything.”

  “Because it’s a future that will never happen, Rhett.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “And knowing a future that could have been… it’s a heavy burden to bear.”

  “Then let it be my punishment,” he chuckled bitterly. “If I had listened to you in my dreams, if I had made different choices, none of this would have happened. I should know exactly what I lost.”

  Gwendolyn’s expression softened, but there was still a sadness in her gaze. She sighed, shaking her head.

  “If I tell you, you can never tell Amara. It would break her—more than she already is.”

  “I won’t say a word,” Rhett nodded immediately.

  There was a long pause. Then, gently, the witch replaced the lid on the twins’ coffin, sealing them away once more. She lifted her gaze to meet Rhett’s.

  “You would have had four boys,” she finally answered. “…And a little girl.”

  “Five children?” Rhett gasped in a whisper before shaking his head in disbelief. “That many is unheard of among dragons… unless you’re fated mates.”

  Gwendolyn tilted her head slightly as she raised her brows, as if confirming his statement. But Rhett was already looking back down at the coffin, running his fingers over the wood one last time.

  With a sigh, the witch reached out, motioning for him to move toward the door.

  “You should go rest,” she instructed. “We will be burying the princes tomorrow.”

  Rhett nodded, though he wasn’t ready to leave his sons. Reluctantly, he turned away, leaving the Sanctum. He went up the stairs toward his chambers, but as he reached the corridor, he stopped. Amara’s door was down to the left, and he was so close to her that he could smell her honeyed scent. Rhett hesitated, debating whether he should go to her. He wanted to see her, to apologize again. But he knew she wanted to be alone…away from him.

  With a heavy sigh, he turned away and went to his own chambers. They were dark, with not even a fire lit in the hearths. Rhett didn’t even bother lighting a candle or going to the bed. Instead, he lowered himself onto the floor, pressing his back against the wall. Pulling up his legs, he wrapped his arms around them, resting his forehead against his knees.

  I failed them… he whispered into his mind.

  Elliott and Bennett would never take their first breaths, never know the warmth of their mother’s arms, or the sound of their father’s voice.

  And Amara… He had promised to protect her and make her happy. But all he had done was bring her pain. She had lost her children, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

  Rhett clenched his jaw before forcing himself to let out a deep exhale. He didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in his guilt and regret, but at some point, exhaustion took over. His body was worn out from days of marching and flying. And for the first time in forever, Rhett slept.

  A nudge against his leg woke Rhett up from his sleep. He inhaled quickly, struggling to focus as the light from the windows blinded him.

  “You need to eat.”

  The rough voice startled Rhett, causing him to look up. He was surprised to see Westin standing over him, with a plate of food in his hands. The young king quickly moved, adjusting his position to sit up straight. He watched as Westin crouched, setting the plate down before lowering himself onto the floor. Being so close to Amara’s father was unexpected and even slightly uncomfortable.

  Rhett swallowed the lump in his throat before looking down at the plate. The food was fairly simple: slices of dark bread, pieces of cheese, and a handful of dried fruit. Not the type of food that Rhett had been eating while out marching. After a moment, he turned toward the window, noticing that it was brighter now than when he had sat down.

  “What time is it?”

  “Midmorning,” Westin answered. “You’ve been asleep for about sixteen hours.”

  Rhett’s head snapped toward him.

  “Sixteen?” He repeated, stunned. When Westin nodded, Rhett ran a hand over his face. “That’s the longest I’ve slept in… in a very long time.”

  “When was the last time you slept?” Westin inquired curiously.

  “A few nights ago,” Rehtt murmured. “When we made camp, I got about three hours of sleep.”

  Westin furrowed his brows before pushing the plate closer to Rhett.

  “And when was the last time you ate?”

  “That same night I slept,” Rhett muttered hesitantly.

  “You’re the king,” Westin said with a shake of his head. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

  Rhett let out a bitter chuckle as he ran a hand through his messy hair.

  “Easier said than done… Hundreds of people rely on me, and I don’t always have the time to breathe, let alone eat or sleep.”

  With a sigh, the young man finally reached for the plate, tearing off a piece of bread. As he did, he glanced at Westin.

  “I’m surprised you’re here,” he admitted. “I figured you’d be angry with me.”

  Westin was quiet for a few seconds before finally speaking.

  “I’m not angry… I’m furious.”

  Rhett flinched, nearly choking on the food in his mouth.

  “Whatever you have to say to me… I deserve it,” he whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

  At first, Westin didn’t speak, but instead tapped his fingers against his knee. It wasn’t until several minutes later that he spoke up.

  “I understand,” he began in a quiet voice. “I understand how it must have felt when Amara named you king. How much it must have hurt. I understand the betrayal of having your own blood turn against you, declaring war all of a sudden. And I understand the pain of losing a father.”

  “And,” he continued, his tone firmer now. “I wasn't angry when I heard that you confined Amara to her chambers. I was upset, yes... But I understood what must have been going through your mind at the time. However, what did anger me was when I learned that you tried to keep her sister, her friends, and even her maids from seeing her.”

  Rhett closed his eyes for a moment, feeling shame wash over him with each word Westin spoke.

  “But do you know what made me furious?” Amara’s father questioned, leaning forward slightly. “The fact that you left without seeing her before you went off to war. If you had died, Rhett, her last memories of you would have been of your anger. She would have spent the rest of her life blaming herself, thinking she was why you left the way you did.”

  “I had to watch my daughter fall apart every day… We had to keep information from her because anything she heard would send her into a panic attack. She barely ate. She barely slept. She was a ghost of herself, and there was nothing we could do to lift her spirits.”

  As silence filled the room again, Rhett forced himself to look up to meet Westin’s gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything I’ve done. If I could take it all back, I would. I would give anything to undo the pain I’ve caused her. But I can’t. All I can do now is spend every second of my life making it up to her… if she allows me to. Assuming she doesn’t want to annul our marriage.”

  “We’ll see,” Westin huffed slightly, crossing his arms. “But understand this, Rhett—if you hurt my daughter again, I will not hesitate to take her away. Far away. And I may not have much wealth or power anymore, but I know Kieran and Stella would help. Perhaps even that empress from Vespera.”

  “Kenna would be more than happy to help Amara,” Rhett nodded seriously. “And she would tear me a new one if you asked.”

  “Good to know,” Westin murmured before rising to his feet. “You should go outside and dig the grave. The ground was too solid and cold for the rest of us to do it.”

  “Alright, I’ll do it,” Rhett agreed, setting the empty plate aside. “And afterwards, I can carry Amara down to the grave.”

  At that, Westin shook his head.

  “No,” he said firmly. “I’ll carry my daughter. And until she says otherwise, you’re not to speak a word to her.”

  Rhett’s shoulders tensed, and his first instinct was to argue. However, he knew there was no point. He had lost the right to make demands where Amara was concerned. Slowly, he lowered his head.

  “I understand.”

  Westin looked at him for a second before picking up the empty plate. Without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving Rhett alone in his chambers.