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“Maybe not,” Erik concedes. “But you could try. It can’t be worse than watching her fade away in front of us.”

Inside the lab, Mathew leans close to Maya, his hand lingering on her shoulder as he points to something on a computer screen. Her head tilts toward his, their faces mere inches apart. The easy intimacy between them makes my blood boil.

“He’s in love with her,” I growl, unable to keep the possessiveness from my voice.

Erik follows my gaze. “Of course he is. She’s brilliant, beautiful, and broken in ways that make certain men want to fix her.”

“She’s not a project.”

“No, she’s your mate.” Erik sighs. “But she doesn’t remember that, does she? All she remembers is that you pushed her away.”

Before I can respond, Maya looks up, her eyes meeting mine through the glass. For a heartbeat, something flares between us—the connection that never truly died. Then her expression closes off, and she deliberately turns her back to me.

Message received.

“I have work to do,” I mutter, needing an excuse to leave before I do something foolish like break down the laboratory door.

“Griffin...” Erik’s voice stops me. “A word of advice from someone who’s been watching this disaster unfold: don’t wait too long. She’s slipping away, and I don’t just mean from you.”

His words follow me down the corridor, echoing in my mind with each step.

The next morning,I rise before dawn, restless after another night of fitful sleep. The palace is quiet as I make my way to the kitchens, nodding to the few servants already at work. I gather ingredients without really thinking, falling into the familiar rhythm of cooking that has always centered me.

Eggs whisked with cream and herbs. Bread sliced and toasted golden brown. Fresh berries arranged carefully on a plate. It’s a simple breakfast, but substantial—the kind that nourishes rather than merely satisfies.

A young kitchen girl watches me with wide eyes, clearly shocked to see her king preparing food himself. I give her a small smile, and she curtsies nervously before scurrying away.

When everything is ready, I place it all on a tray and make my way through the palace and the gardens. I know exactly where to find her. It’s where she goes every morning instead of eating breakfast.

The remains of her mother’s cottage stand in stark silhouette against the morning sky, blackened timbers reaching up like skeletal fingers. Maya sits on a stone bench nearby, her slender form huddled in a thick sweater despite the mild morning air. She stares at the ruins, her face expressionless, lost in memories I can’t access.

I approach slowly, careful not to startle her. “Good morning.”

She doesn’t look up. “Go away.”

“I brought breakfast.” I set the tray on the bench beside her, keeping a respectful distance.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat, Maya.”

Her eyes finally meet mine, and they are dull with exhaustion. “What I need is for you to leave me alone.”

I study her face, noting the changes that worry me more each day. Her scent has changed subtly, a sour note threading through her natural lavender fragrance.

“I can’t do that,” I say quietly.

“Why not?” Her voice lacks its usual fire. “It’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Leaving me alone?”

The barb strikes true, but I don’t flinch. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve a lot worse.” She turns her attention back to the cottage ruins. “But I don’t have the energy to give it to you.”

I sit down on the bench, careful to leave the tray between us as a buffer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Will you go away if I say no?”

“Probably not.”