Faster!

  For probably the hundredth time, that word echoed through Silas’s mind, but he didn’t argue with Rhett. It didn’t matter that the dragon was already pushed to his limits, or that his wings burned from exhaustion. Silas would flap harder, flying just a little faster.

  All through the night, the dragon had been soaring over the skies of Sylvaris toward Onlon. Toward Amara. With each second that passed, with each grueling hour of flight, Rhett only became more anxious to see her. He felt guilty—so incredibly guilty—for what he had done to Amara.

  How long had it been since he had laid eyes on her? It was the night of the New Dawn Gala, which at this point, felt like a lifetime ago. But in reality, it had been just over a month.

  I avoided her for a month… Rhett murmured in his dragon’s mind.

  Silas had begged to visit her before Emmett’s declaration of war came in, before their life spiraled into chaos. Rhett had nearly given in because the pain in his heart had become unbearable. But then the war came. Then his father’s death. And everything else—his grief, his sense of duty as a king—had made it easy to ignore the pain of their separation.

  But now nothing could silence it. Nothing could stop the knife that was twisting in his stomach.

  He had blamed her. Amara. The woman he loved more than anything. He had cursed her for taking away their future, for making him a king when all he wanted was a quiet, happy life.

  In truth… I was the one who ruined it.

  Rhett swallowed hard, fearing there would be no way to make it up to her. What if she was already gone? The thought took over his mind, pulling him further and further into the depths of despair.

  What if Amara and our children were taken from us? He questioned painfully. Rhett had lost his father. Lost his brother. What if he lost them, too?

  They’re alive, Silas stated firmly, unwilling to allow their meshed mind to spiral out of control.

  You don’t know that, Rhett argued weakly.

  I do, Silas rumbled. I feel it in my bones. In my soul. Amara is waiting for us. With the twins in her arms. Safe. Whole.

  Rhett wanted to believe him, to trust in that impossible hope. However, dread had settled in the pit of his stomach. It ate at him, along with his guilt and regret. It fed his fear for what might await them at his castle.

  Faster!

  The demand wasn’t just for Silas; it was for himself. For every mistake, every wasted second, every moment he had left her alone. If Amara was still alive when they got to her, he would never leave her again.

  The moment the castle came into view, the dragon flattened his wings against his body, diving toward the courtyard. Silas skidded to a halt on the ground, shaking the trees and rattling the cobblestones beneath him. Within seconds, Rhett’s human form was running barefoot across the yard.

  There were no guards. No servants. No signs of life outside. The fear intensified, tightening in his chest with each heartbeat.

  “Amara!” He shouted desperately as he stormed through the entrance.

  However, once he was inside, Rhett came to a sudden stop. At the base of the staircase stood a middle-aged woman with bright violet eyes—a witch. After staring at her for a brief second, he looked behind her toward the stairs. Rhett moved to run past her, but she stepped into his path, raising a hand.

  “Rhett, stop. You need to—”

  He ignored her, trying to get up the stairs.

  “Amara!” He yelled again.

  As his foot touched the first step, an invisible wall slammed into him. Rhett’s legs gave out, and suddenly, he fell backward, hitting the stone floor with a hard thud. The wind was knocked from his lungs, but still, he tried to stand.

  The witch sighed, stepping forward until she stood over him. She looked down at the young king with a slight frown. It wasn’t cruel or unkind, but it was firm.

  “You will stop and listen to me before I let you go upstairs.”

  Rhett shook his head, staring up at the woman with wide, tear-filled eyes.

  “No—please. I need to know if she’s alive. I need to know if my children are alive. Please!” His voice cracked as he spoke, but he continued to beg.

  The witch hesitated, and she couldn’t stop the look of pity that she gave him.

  “I will tell you,” she said slowly, her tone softer now, gentler. “But you need to calm down. Can you do that?”

  Rhett took in a deep breath, but it barely made it to his lungs. His entire body was shaking now from fear and exhaustion. He wanted to fight, to break free of her magic and tear through the halls until he found them—but he knew he couldn’t. After a hesitant exhale, his shoulders sagged as he finally stopped fighting. His trembling hands went to the floor, resting beside him.

  The witch stared at him for another minute before reaching for a basket set off to the side. She reached into it, pulling out a folded tunic and trousers.

  “Here,” she murmured, holding them out to him.

  Rhett barely glanced at her, but he reached for the clothes. He dressed silently, sniffling and wiping away the tears that fell down his cheeks. Once the tunic was pulled over his head, the witch spoke again.

  “Amara is alive.”

  Rhett released the heaviest sigh of relief that his body could muster. His legs nearly gave out as he gripped his chest. His heart was still racing, but now he could breathe for the first time since he had left Drurus.

  “The twins, however…” the witch hesitated as her expression fell. “They did not survive the attack.”

  The world stopped.

  The air was ripped from his lungs, and his knees finally buckled. He sank back onto the floor, twisting his fingers into his hair as his body curled inward.

  No…

  No, that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right.

  His lips parted, but no sound came out. His vision blurred as his world came crashing down, drowning him in grief.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  They were gone. His children—his unborn children—were gone before they ever had a chance to take their first breath. Before he ever had a chance to meet them, to hold them. A strangled sob left his throat. Then another. And another. He sobbed until there were no tears left to shed, and all that remained was the unbearable grief.

  “How?” He finally questioned, though his throat burned as he spoke. “What… what happened?”

  The witch sighed wearily before speaking.

  “Two men came into the castle,” she began quietly. “One was someone you trusted. No one had a reason to question why he was here. The other was hidden in plain sight, so no one noticed who he was.”

  Rhett furrowed his brows in confusion as he looked at the witch, but stayed quiet as she continued.

  “They came under the pretense of delivering news of your victory in Jux. But they hadn’t fought in the battle. They had heard of the victory from someone else and took it as their chance to get close to Amara. The news was enough to get them an audience with the Earl of Apathle. However, to get past him, they claimed to have had a letter for Amara… from you.”

  “The Earl and Countess had been careful until that point,” the witch sighed, shaking her head. “They had strict rules on who could and could not go near Amara. But at the thought of you finally reaching out to your wife, the Earl saw no reason to deny them.”

  “They found Amara alone in the greenhouse,” she murmured. “The trusted man stood guard at the door while the other went inside. And then…”

  The witch faltered, as if the words were too painful to speak, even for her.

  “A sword,” she finally said. “Was plunged into her back, going all the way through her stomach.”

  Rhett’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, and for a moment, he wondered if he had heard the woman right. But as he replayed her words in his mind and imagined Amara’s pain, the room began to spin.

  This was his fault… it was all his fault.

  By pushing Amara away, he had let this happen.

  “Who?” He demanded in a hoarse voice.

  “The trusted man,” the witch said carefully. “His name is Myles. From Greenatch.”

  Rhett’s head shot up, and he narrowed his eyes at the woman. Myles? The man he had worked alongside to better the lives of commoners.

  “And the other?” He forced himself to ask, dreading to hear the answer.

  “Willie…”

  A fire erupted in Rhett’s chest at the name. Silas clawed at their shared soul, begging to be released.

  Kill him!

  Hunt him down!

  Make him suffer!

  Rhett’s dragon was becoming unhinged, filling the young man with so much wrath that he struggled to contain it. But then, everything stopped when a memory surfaced in their mind.

  The nightmares…

  Rhett was tormented for days with images of Amara disappearing, of blood soaking through her dress. Night after night, he had to hold his infant son until the moment he was taken, leaving only blood behind.

  The witch had shown him this… She had shown him everything. Rhett stood to his feet, growling at the woman.

  “You knew!”

  “Rhett—”

  “You knew this whole time!” He bellowed as he stepped closer to her. “And you did nothing!”

  The moment his feet moved, the invisible force slammed him to the ground once again. His arms felt as if they were tied to his sides, keeping him from moving. The witch approached him with one hand held out in front of her.

  “I did do something!” She shouted. “I warned you! I showed you everything in your dreams! And what did you do? You told me you wouldn’t come back to Onlon.”

  “You should have stopped them yourself!” Rhett roared as he struggled against her magic. “You knew! You knew exactly what was going to happen!”

  The witch flinched, and she struggled to keep her gaze on his.

  “You think I didn’t want to stop them?” She murmured as her lips quivered. “Every part of me wanted to interfere. But I swore an oath to Otarr, which prevents me from directly altering fate.”

  The woman paused, letting out a shaky exhale.

  “I don’t know if I would have had the strength to break my oath. But... apparently, Otarr feared what I might do, so he trapped me, keeping me far from here. I could do nothing but go to your dreams.”

  The force pinning Rhett down suddenly lifted, but he didn’t move. He only stared at the woman, swallowing the lump in his throat as he listened to her speak.

  “But if it weren’t for me, Amara would have died… she was supposed to. Thankfully, my task from Eena outweighed my oath. Because of that, I was able to stop the bleeding and save her. But it came with a cost…”

  Rhett didn’t dare to ask what it was. They already lost so much, what more was there to lose? However, the witch continued to speak, whether or not he wanted to hear it.

  “She’ll never be able to have another child. And she’ll carry two scars for the rest of her life.”

  Rhett’s head slumped forward, and he covered his face with his hands. It was hard for him to accept the truth, but there was no way to escape it. This was his fault… And Amara’s body would bear the reminders of what had been taken from them. There was no way he could take back what he had done to her. All he could do was apologize and hope that, in time, she forgave him.

  Slowly, Rhett lifted his gaze to the witch.

  “I was wrong,” he exhaled shakily. “I shouldn’t have blamed you, witch. I—I’m sorry.”

  The woman looked down at him with a small, sad smile.

  “Gwendolyn. My name is Gwendolyn,” she corrected before looking toward the top of the stairs.

  Rhett blinked, nodding to himself before following her gaze to the second floor.

  “Would you like to see her now?” Gwendolyn inquired gently as she looked back at the young man. His throat tightened, but he nodded.

  Gwendolyn held out a hand to him. Hesitantly, Rhett took it, allowing her to help him to his feet. Before he could move, she reached up and smoothed his disheveled hair. Without saying a word, she turned and led him up the staircase.

  As they walked down the long corridor, Rhett noticed it was empty and heard no sounds or voices.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “I sent them to the other side of the castle,” Gwendolyn replied as she glanced at him. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to calm you down or not. The last thing I wanted was for you to shift into Silas and hurt someone because you were grief-stricken and angry.”

  Rhett looked down at his feet in shame.

  “I… I’m sorry.”

  The witch held up a hand, stopping him.

  “You had a right to feel those emotions,” she said gently. “You’ve lost a lot in the last few weeks. It’s only natural.”

  Eventually, they arrived at the large set of doors at the end of the corridor. Gwendolyn stepped aside, allowing him to enter alone.

  “She’s in bed right now,” the witch explained. “I’ve given her medicine to keep her pain at a minimum, but it makes her groggy and tired. Just… be patient. And if Amara asks, give her some space. I’d rather you not add to her stress.”

  Rhett inhaled deeply before nodding to Gwendolyn’s instructions. He pushed open the doors and stepped into Amara’s chambers.

  The entertaining room was quiet—almost eerily so. He walked across the room, through her study, and finally into the bedchamber.

  He paused at the doorway, staring at Amara. She was lying flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She was pale, too pale. Rhett’s chest tightened, and it took everything in him not to break down into tears again. With a deep breath, he stepped closer to the bed.

  “Little dove…”

  It was the first words he had said to her since the night of the New Dawn Gala, and it felt so good to say her nickname again. Amara turned her head slowly, meeting his gaze.

  Rhett’s knees hit the floor beside the bed, and he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. The woman he loved, the one he swore to protect, looked shattered and broken.

  “Amara, I—” his voice failed as his throat tightened. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have ever sent you away. I should have been there for you. I should have—”

  His voice trailed off before he finally shook his head.

  “I failed you.”

  Tears rolled slowly down his cheeks as he stared into her brown eyes. They were both quiet for a moment until Amara finally opened her mouth, licking her dry lips lightly before speaking.

  “I want an annulment.”

  The words hit Rhett like a dagger to his heart.

  “No,” he whispered, shaking his head desperately. “No, Amara… I will never abandon you again. Just—just give me a chance. Please…”

  Amara turned her gaze back to the ceiling, closing her eyes as she fought to hold back her own tears.

  “You need an heir,” she said quietly. “And I can’t give you children.”

  “I don’t care about that,” he replied, clenching his jaw.

  “You should.”

  “I don’t,” he insisted. “I can pass the ring to one of Mathias and Kenna’s children or grandchildren. I don’t need to have a son of my own.”

  “You need a son, Rhett,” Amara stated, her voice breaking as tears slipped silently down her cheeks. “And I don’t want to be forced to stay and watch you sleep with other women to get one.”

  “I don’t need a son,” he argued as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the bed. “And I will never take another woman. Ever. I need you, Amara. My little dove, soul of my soul.”

  Rhett paused, waiting for her to respond. But Amara was quiet, with her eyes tightly closed.

  “If you truly want to leave me, I won’t stop you,” he whispered. “But know this: I will never take another to my bed, and I will never have a child if it isn’t with you.”

  Amara opened her eyes before slowly turning her gaze to Rhett. She stared at him, and her hand twitched, as if wanting to touch him, though she never did.

  “I will think on it,” she finally replied.

  Rhett exhaled slowly. However, Amara continued before his shoulders could relax.

  “But I need time… and I need to be alone.”

  His heart ached at her request, but he nodded. Reluctantly, he leaned forward, intending to kiss her, but he hesitated when she turned her head away. Instead, he gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips and softly kissing her palm.

  “I love you, Amara,” he murmured.

  She didn’t respond, but instead closed her eyes once again. With one last look at her, Rhett stood to his feet, leaving the room before closing the door softly behind him.