Tristan sat outside his tent, scraping a whetstone across his sword. He ran the stone along the blade slowly, keeping his hand steady for even sharpening. The fire beside him was dying out, casting a low light across his weapon. Tristan frowned as he glanced at the flames, wishing he could add another log to the fire. However, they couldn’t afford to attract too much attention with them being camped out in a flat, open space.

  For four days now, he and Ashur have led a portion of Sylvaris’s army from Estoneshire toward Odlem. Now, with just a day’s travel left, no forests or hills could conceal their movements or camps. Because of this, everyone had to keep their fires low and reduced to nothing but embers.

  Across from him, Tristan could hear Ashur pacing. Back and forth, his boots stomped into the dirt, kicking up dust that darkened the air even further. Without seeing his face clearly, the young lord knew that the prince was anxious about Rhett. He had flown south to Ruggeweyn days ago, however, he should have returned by now. Tristan knew it. Ashur knew it.

  “Careful, Ashur,” Tristan teased as he sharpened his sword. “If you keep pacing like that, you’ll accidentally dig a trench so deep we’ll have a new river by morning.”

  Ashur halted mid-step and turned to the young lord, glaring at him.

  “How are you so damn calm?” He gestured at Tristan. “Rhett should be here by now. Aren’t you even the least bit worried that something might have happened to him?”

  Tristan finally set the whetstone aside, resting his sword against his knee as he looked up at Ashur.

  “Of course, I’m worried,” he admitted quietly. “But I can’t afford to show it.”

  “Why not?” Ashur demanded with furrowed brows.

  Tristan gestured toward the camp around them, where soldiers sat in clusters, eating, sharpening their weapons, or sleeping.

  “Because they’re watching us,” he said simply. “Whether you realize it or not, soldiers look to their commanders for strength. If we act like frightened children, so will they. And if they start believing we’ve already lost before we even set foot on the battlefield, then we’re as good as dead.”

  Ashur’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing as he sat across from Tristan.

  “You’ve never been to war,” the young lord continued gently. “Never led men into battle. If they sense weakness in us—especially with our unaccounted-for king—it won’t take long for some to start deserting. Or worse, for entire companies to abandon the fight, thinking there’s an empty throne waiting for the taking. So yes, I’m nervous. But I can’t let them see it. And neither can you.”

  Ashur let out a frustrated sigh before running a hand through his wavy black hair.

  “Yeah, well, next time I see Rhett, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind for making me worry so much.”

  “I’d pay a good coin to see that,” Tristan smirked as he returned his attention to his sword. “You, yelling at Rhett like an angry wet nurse—”

  Before he could finish, the sound of beating wings went through the night air. Both men’s heads snapped up to the sky, searching for the shadow of a dragon.

  “Did you hear that?” Tristan questioned as he set aside his weapon.

  “Hard to miss,” Ashur muttered as he stood to his feet.

  The sound grew louder and closer until a large shadow flew over the camp, momentarily blocking out the stars. Some of the soldiers reached for their weapons, unable to tell who the dragon was this late at night. However, Tristan and Ashur knew who it was based on his size alone.

  The dragon circled once before descending, kicking up a gust of wind that sent dust and embers swirling. Tristan and Ashur went through the camp, assuring the men that all was well as the massive beast landed with a thud. By the time they finally got to the dragon, Silas was gone, and instead, Rhett stood before them. The young king rolled his shoulders, shaking off the fatigue from his long flight.

  Ashur stopped short of Rhett, crossing his arms as he glared.

  “About damn time,” he said flatly.

  “Good to see you too, Ashur,” Rhett smirked, arching a brow at the prince’s harsh tone.

  Meanwhile, Tristan remained silent as he looked over Rhett in the low light. His friend was in one piece, with no visible wounds or signs of distress. That didn’t necessarily mean nothing had gone wrong, but at the very least, he was back.

  “You couldn’t have sent us a letter? A sign? Anything that you were going to take so long to get back? Next time, I swear, I'll...” Ashur's voice trailed off, unable to continue berating Rhett.

  “I believe you promised to give him a piece of your mind,” Tristan reminded the prince in a rather loud whisper.

  Ashur glared at the young lord before grumbling something under his breath. Tristan only smiled before looking back at Rhett, but he turned more serious when he noticed the king’s expression.

  “What happened?”

  “Ruggeweyn is refusing to fight… for either side,” Rhett stated, feeling exhausted as he walked toward the camp.

  Tristan and Ashur frowned, exchanging glances before hurrying to keep pace with him.

  “So what, they’re just going to sit there and wait to see who wins?” Tristan questioned, motioning toward their tents as they weaved through the camp.

  “Quinn said he wants to establish Ruggeweyn as its own kingdom,” Rhett replied with a scowl. “And honestly, I can’t blame him. From his perspective, neither side cares about him or his people. He’s putting them first—which, to a degree, I can respect.”

  Ashur scoffed, shaking his head.

  “Whether or not he has the right is irrelevant. Ruggeweyn is part of your kingdom. Are you seriously going to just let them walk away?”

  “I’d rather they didn’t, but I won’t waste lives forcing them to stay, either,” Rhett sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It would only lead to more unnecessary bloodshed. However, I did ask Quinn for one thing: if we survive this war and defeat Drurus, he has to allow me the chance to win his people back.”

  “How diplomatic of you,” Ashur murmured, unimpressed.

  Rhett let the comment slide, too tired to argue. As they passed through the rows of tents, soldiers bowed or offered quick salutes to their king. He acknowledged them with curt nods but kept moving.

  When they reached their tents, Tristan stepped inside his and emerged moments later with a bag, tossing it toward Rhett. The young king caught it before pulling out a clean set of clothes.

  “So, if Ruggeweyn refused to fight, what took you so long,” Tristan inquired, crossing his arms as he leaned against a nearby post. “It shouldn’t have taken you four days to fly there and back.”

  Rhett pulled on a fresh pair of trousers before answering.

  “I went to Riven.”

  Both men stared at him.

  “You what?” Ashur questioned, blinking in surprise.

  “I enlisted Zayn and Yasir’s help against Drurus.”

  Tristan let out a low whistle.

  “No kidding. And they actually agreed?”

  “After hearing what happened to my father and Emmett? Yes. They’re sending two hundred men through the Ironclaw Pass—a narrow mountain road that connects Riven to the edge of Drurus and Sylvaris. Ashur, once we’ve taken Walford and are ready to march on Jux, you’ll fly to the pass and signal the Riven soldiers that it’s time to move. While we strike Drurus’s army from the south, they’ll hit them from behind and take them by surprise.”

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  “That… might actually work,” Tristan stated as he rubbed his jaw. “And with Onlon’s men pushing down from the north, we should have more than enough soldiers to force Arnav’s army back into Drurus.”

  “Not just force them back,” Rhett corrected. “We’ll have enough to push into Drurus itself.”

  “Wait…” Ashur interjected with raised brows. “Are you saying we’re invading them back?”

  Rhett sighed heavily as he grabbed a blanket, shaking it out before dropping it onto the ground outside Tristan’s tent.

  “I don’t have much of a choice,” he admitted, sitting down. “Zayn is invading Drurus from the south in a matter of days. He expects us to advance from the east to keep pressure on Arnav. If we don’t, he’ll see it as a betrayal.”

  “So what’s the endgame here?” Tristan questioned as he stepped forward. “We invade Drurus, but where do we stop?”

  Rhett laid back, draping an arm over his eyes.

  “When Arnav and his family are dead,” he said simply. “Now, both of you, let me sleep. I’ve had maybe a few hours of rest since leaving Casshire, and I’d like to be somewhat alive when we ride through Odlem in the morning.”

  Ashur scoffed but said nothing while Tristan chuckled under his breath, kicking dirt over the embers of their campfire.

  “Fine,” the young lord relented. “Get some sleep, Your Majesty. We’ll wake you if the world starts burning.”

  Rhett only grunted in response, already half-asleep.

  Stirring in his sleep, Rhett inhaled deeply, catching the scent of honey and salt in the air. It was familiar and comforting all at the same time. He took another slow breath, letting the warmth settle in his chest. That was when he noticed the heat pressed against his side. His eyes fluttered open, causing him to wince when the light hit his sleepy eyes.

  Once his vision focused, Rhett immediately recognized the room. He was in the king’s chambers in Apathle. Turning his head, he found Amara beside him. She was already awake, watching him with a small smile. His gaze lazily went from her face down to her collarbone until it stopped at the sheet that barely covered her chest.

  “Good Morning, little dove,” he murmured.

  “I’ve missed you,” Amara sighed, sitting up slightly, causing the sheet to fall to her waist, revealing more of her to his hungry gaze.

  Rhett smirked before reaching out to cup her cheek, stroking the smooth skin with his thumb.

  “I was here all night,” he reminded her.

  “I know,” she replied, leaning into his touch as her smile faltered slightly. “But you weren’t in my dreams.”

  “Where was I?” Rhett inquired with furrowed brows.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted with a small shrug. “But you sent me away. It felt like I hadn’t seen you in weeks.”

  “Good thing it was just a dream,” he assured her, tilting his forehead against hers. “I’d never send you away—unless it was to protect you.”

  Amara let out a quiet hum before moving her head and pressing her lips against his. Rhett responded instantly, deepening the kiss, but before he could pull her fully against him, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back onto the bed.

  Rhett chuckled as Amara straddled him, and he gripped her hips to hold her steady.

  “You’re a tease, little dove,” he murmured, gripping her tighter.

  Amara smirked, trailing her fingers over his arms as Rhett slid his hands higher, pressing them against her breasts.

  “You’re impatient,” she tsked.

  “Just eager,” he corrected with a low growl, squeezing her roughly in protest. Amara gasped in response but didn’t pull away.

  “Close your eyes,” she instructed.

  Rhett arched a brow, clearly enjoying the sight of her on top of him.

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Please…” she whispered.

  With a sigh, he relented, shutting his eyes. Rhett felt her shift, curling a hand around his cock, guiding the tip toward her slit. However, the moment he expected to feel her warmth, everything vanished.

  The heat. The weight. The scent of honey and salt.

  All of it was gone.

  Rhett’s eyes snapped open as he bolted upright, finding himself in a different room.

  “Amara?” He called out in a hoarse, panicked voice. “Amara!”

  “I’m right here,” Amara’s voice drifted into the room.

  Rhett turned his head just as she stepped through the doorway. She moved slowly, with one hand cradling her very pregnant belly and the other pressing into her back. Once she approached the bed, Amara lowered herself onto the edge, brushing her fingers through his damp hair.

  “What’s wrong?” She murmured. “Did you have a nightmare?”

  Rhett’s gaze lingered on her, still dazed from the remnants of his dream. It had felt so real… he could still almost taste the salt in the air. His hand pressed into his forehead as he tried to make sense of it.

  “I guess I did,” he admitted, looking back at her.

  Amara tilted her head slightly as she studied him.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I… don’t think there’s much to say,” he frowned. “It was about you and me. You were straddling my hips one second, and the next, you were gone.”

  “Oh, I see,” she smirked. “It was a nightmare because you weren’t able to have sex with me.”

  Rhett narrowed his eyes, unimpressed by her amusement.

  “You know that’s not true,” he pouted, causing Amara to only chuckle some more at his expense. With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed his hand and pressed his palm against her belly.

  “I know,” she assured him.

  One of the twins kicked against his touch, and with a small smile, Rhett leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her stomach. His free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, but just as he tilted his head to kiss her lips, a splash from the other room caught his attention.

  “Why are they filling the tub?” He questioned with furrowed brows.

  “My back and hips are aching,” Amara sighed, shifting slightly. “It’s why I’m up so early. When I told Skye, she insisted I soak in a warm bath with oils and herbs to relax my muscles.”

  “Do you want me to come in and rub your shoulders while you soak?” Rhett inquired, raising an eyebrow as his fingers went up and down her arms. “I could even get in with you and heat the water with Silas?”

  “I fear you might have ulterior motives, my good husband,” she replied, narrowing her eyes playfully.

  “Maybe I do,” he smirked as his hand went under the hem of her nightgown, stroking her leg. Amara gasped lightly when his thumb pressed into her inner thigh.

  “Then perhaps you should wait here,” she countered, pressing her hands against his chest and gently pushing him back onto the bed.

  Rhett let himself fall back, resting against the pillows.

  “You can watch me through the flames,” she added teasingly before disappearing toward the bathing chamber.

  Rhett frowned but did as he was told, turning his head toward the fireplace. Through the flames, he watched her shadow move through the room, stopping beside the tub. He licked his dry lips as she slowly undressed, knowing full well that she was doing it to tease him. But then, as she lifted her foot to get into the water, the sound of her falling into the tub filled the room.

  Rhett bolted upright, throwing aside the blankets as he rushed into the bathing chamber. His heart pounded against his ribs as he skidded to a halt beside the tub, reaching to grab Amara—but she was gone.

  The tub was empty. Not even a drop of water remained within it. It was dry, as if it had never been filled at all. Rhett’s chest tightened as his eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for her.

  “Amara!” He called out. He spun on his heels and stumbled back into the bedchamber. “Amara!”

  “Stop shouting,” came her familiar voice.

  Rhett turned around to find Amara stepping out from the nursery, cradling a bundle in her arms.

  “You’re going to wake the babies,” she scolded softly.

  He froze, furrowing his brows in confusion as he glanced behind him toward the bathing chamber, then back at her. His mind struggled to piece together what was happening. Amara was pregnant only moments ago. But now… now she stood there, whole, real, and holding their child.

  His lips parted, but no words came. Then, a tiny cry went out from the nursery, snapping Rhett’s attention back to her. Amara sighed and stepped forward, offering the baby she held.

  “Here, take Elliott,” she murmured. “I’ll go grab Bennett. He’s probably hungry.”

  Rhett hesitated, but his arms moved instinctively, accepting the small bundle. His body reacted as if he had done this a hundred times before, supporting the little prince’s head automatically. But his mind still questioned everything.

  This isn’t real. It can’t be.

  And yet, as he stared down at the tiny face nestled against his chest, Rhett realized he recognized the baby. He knew him, as if he had always existed.

  “Is this real?” He whispered. His fingers trembled as they brushed against the baby’s soft cheek. “Are you real?”

  Elliott opened his eyes as if to answer, staring up at him with familiar hazel irises. Tears burned the edges of Rhett’s vision, and his throat tightened. After a moment, he leaned forward and gently kissed his son’s cheek. The warmth, the softness—it all felt real. Too real.

  “Why don’t you come lay him down?” Amara called from the other room. Rhett blinked, shaking himself from the trance.

  “Right,” he murmured, glancing down at the baby in his arms. “You must be tired.”

  With slow, careful steps, he walked into the nursery. But the moment he crossed the threshold, Elliott vanished. Rhett gasped as he stumbled to a halt. His arms were suddenly empty, and in their place, only blood remained. He struggled to breathe as his gaze darted wildly around the room. Amara was on the floor, clutching her stomach as blood pooled beneath her.

  “No,” he choked out.

  The cribs—where their sons should have been—were soaked in blood. His vision blurred, and just as he ran into the room, the floors disappeared beneath him.

  With a jolt, Rhett woke up.

  He was on the ground, his body stiff and cold. His heart pounded so hard that he thought it might burst from his chest. He sat up, looking down at his trembling hands, searching for blood. But there was none—only dirt.

  “You alright?”

  Rhett’s head shot up. Tristan stood over him, his brows furrowed in concern. Soldiers moved around them, packing up their camp.

  There was no Amara… No babies…

  Rhett swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe.

  “I think,” he murmured, running a hand over his face. “My stupid dragon decided to give me nightmares instead of dreams last night.”

  It wasn’t me, Silas protested in the back of his mind. Those weren’t my thoughts…

  Rhett frowned as his hand paused at his jaw. That was… unsettling. If the dream hadn’t come from his dragon’s subconscious, where had it come from?

  Before he could dwell on it, Tristan squeezed his shoulder.

  “It’s probably just anxiety,” the young lord said. “We’re less than a week away from the first fight. Everyone’s on edge.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Rhett sighed.

  “Of course I’m right,” Tristan smirked, nudging the young king. “Come on, I’ve got your horse saddled up. Let’s get the rest of our things together and head out before the army leaves us behind.”