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“I love you, Arwin,” she whispered, and just as his face brightened with a beaming smile, just as he took another step to grab her, she added, “I am just not in love with you.”

What? The pressure in his chest became unbearable, suffocating the goodness in him one more time. He couldn’t keep his eyes on her one more second, so he looked down at the dirty ground. What was the use of this? Why did she need to come here and tell him that? What was the fucking need?

“I think you should know; the wedding has been moved.”

Wedding? Right… “Already regretting it?”

“It will be sooner.”

He closed his eyes tightly.

“Arwin, I am pregnant.”

Arwin’s gaze flitted to Rionach, hoping that she was bluffing, but the seriousness and distress in her face was evident. She was pregnant. How far along was she? His large rough hands clasped Rionach’s arms. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”

The distraught in her eyes shifted, leaving way for a surprised gasp. “No. It’s—”

“Don’t you dare, Rionach. Don’t you dare say it is his. You were in my bed the same fucking day you cheated on me.” He fought the desperate sob that dared to escape him. His grip tightened as he ignored Rionach’s pained wince. “That is my child! I will not allow you to marry someone else if you are carrying my child!”

“Arwin, you are hurting me!”

With a snarl, he released her. The future queen of the Sky Kingdom shouldn’t have bruises… He moved his hands to his hair. Fire burned inside of him, a million thoughts running through him. Kill the king, keep Rionach close. Overthrow everything. Pray to Ouranos, pray to Eris.

“Rionach,” he began, turning away from her as she rubbed her hands over the lingering feeling of his grip. “Rionach. If that child is mine, I swear I will kill him and take you back.” His voice didn’t quiver or fault.

“It is not yours,” Rionach whispered.

“This child is mine, and so are you.”

Rionach shook her head and opened the door behind her to leave. “You are not all right.”

He wasn’t. Not when all of this was happening as fast as it was. How could he even breathe near Brontes knowing he was raising his child. How could Arwin stand by the king and queen as they present the new royal baby as theirs.

“I am leaving, Arwin. This is it.”

“Leave then,” Arwin muttered, his back still turned to her when receding steps echoed until the door closed.

Rionach was correct. He was not all right. How could he be when everything he held dear, everything he wanted, was being snatched from his very hands? The wind inside of him was rough and jagged, pulling and slipping out of himself, mimicking the inner turmoil that consumed him, wanting to escape one way or another. With a scream, Arwin fell to his knees and the house around him exploded in a gust of angered wind.

Arwin’s knees wouldn’t stop shaking. He was sitting outside the royal chamber while Brontes walked back and forth, almost wearing a hole into the rug. The news ran through the entire castle. The queen was in labor, and she had two midwives and a doula at her disposal while Arwin and Brontes had to wait outside.

At first, Brontes didn’t want to be in the same room as him. But maybe it was the way his eyes glazed over with tears, or perhaps it was the desperation to know if the woman they both loved would be all right, which made Brontes allow him to sit in the living space outside the royal chamber.

And now they were both in the same room in a horrible waiting game.

Arwin rubbed his cheeks, his body trembling with anticipation. Would the child look like him? Will it sport his gray hair, his hazel eyes? Will it be a boy? A girl?

“It’s been too long,” Brontes snarled as he turned on his heels before starting another anxious lap over the rug.

Arwin agreed. It had been too long. He couldn’t wait to see Rionach in all her glory, holding their child. Their child.

After their conversation at his mother’s house, he hadn’t said a word to her. He only saw her in the castle’s halls, walking back and forth with the chambermaids while the castle’s staff prepared for the royal wedding. A wedding that he had no choice but to attend. It was a morning wedding, and as he stood next to other high officials of the army, he couldn’t help but look at his brother with such envy. Arwin was able to contain his emotions until he saw her.

As Rionach walked down the hall, Arwin took her in. Her hair was half-pulled into a bun, her off-shoulder dress left her perfect skin uncovered for anyone to see, and how dare they see her skin. Arwin never would’ve allowed such a dress in the first place. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to see her…

As she walked past him, he could smell a faint hint of her vanilla soap, overpowered by a strong lily perfume. Her scent was off, but it was still Rionach; it was still his Rionach.

He focused on her face, her smile, so bright, brighter than he had ever seen before. She released the bouquet to grab hold of Brontes’s hand.