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“I’m Lephyrin’s prince and heir,” he muttered, “and here I am, unsure of how to even speak to my own gods-damn father.”

“Being a prince doesn’t mean being faultless.

” Elowynne gracefully lifted her hands and adjusted the prince’s cloak, smoothing out the wrinkles that lined his shoulders.

Atlas barely realized he leaned into the warmth of her touch.

“It means knowing when to ask for help and when to lean on those around you.”

Atlas’s shoulders relaxed as her words sank in. She was right. He had been so consumed by the idea of what was expected of him that he hadn’t allowed himself to lean on anyone. And until this moment, he felt as if he didn’t have anyone at all now that Draevyn was gone.

His father’s judgment, the kingdom’s expectations, the uncertainty of his brother’s fate—it had all felt too heavy to bear alone. He didn’t feel like himself, and a coldness had crept into his soul at the weight of it all.

“I’ve been a fool,” he said quietly.

“No. You’ve been human.” Elowynne gave him a subtle grin. “From what I’ve heard, your kind often make such mistakes. ”

He let out a soft chuckle at her effortless banter. In any other circumstance, he would’ve pressed his lips to hers right then, loving a woman with a sharp tongue. “It’s not that impressive considering I’m one of only two beings from this kingdom who isn’t entirely mortal.”

A brief silence stretched between them, the crackle of the fire filling the air. Atlas felt something shift within him, a small spark of relief, no longer feeling quite so alone.

He met his bride’s gaze once more. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “We’ll face whatever comes together, Your Majesty. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

For the first time since his brother’s disappearance, he felt a glimmer of hope—a fragile, uncertain thing—but hope, nonetheless. “Please don’t call me that. You’re to be my wife and queen. Atlas will do.”

Lephyrin hadn’t had a queen since his mother passed away. That was nearly two decades ago now. Knowing the title would pass on to whoever became his wife had his chest tightening, but the more he spoke with Elowynne, the more deserving she seemed.

Something sparked in her gold and green eyes. “Alright…Atlas. And you, my prince, can call me Wynne.”

Wynne . He smiled at her nickname.

Atlas reached out his hand and cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer to him, and then pressed his lips gently to her forehead.

“You should know, from what I’ve heard, the king doesn’t expect the Phoenix to return,” she said simply.

Every sense of comfort that had just settled into him shattered as he shoved out of her hold, almost sending her stumbling back. “What?!” he barked. Shadows crept in from the corners of the room as his voice rose, all sense of the comfort he just felt now gone.

Her eyes darted in all directions, sensing their presence. She swallowed. “It’s just gossip. Servant talk.”

A dark haze clouded Atlas’s vision. He spun abruptly on his heel. He restrained his fury and stormed out of his chambers, passing the guards stationed at his door as he began searching for his father.

“What in all gods do you mean Drae isn’t coming back?!” Atlas shouted at his father as he stood beside the fireplace of his bedchamber. His fists shook at his sides, shadows coiling up his forearms like serpents.

The king cleared his throat, unbothered. “What is it that you aren’t understanding, Atlas?”

“He hasn’t been seen since the night of the party, when you forced me to find a bride and all hell broke loose from you bringing your little prisoner out on display. Nobody has seen him, and now rumors have spread that you’re stating you don’t believe he’ll return. Why is that?”

“You need to learn your place, boy ,” the king spat.

Atlas moved towards him, each step deliberately slow. “My place is right where your useless ass sits in the throne room. At least it will be once you croak. Which, if you ask me, can’t come soon enough.”

The guards stationed throughout went on alert at his threat, hands placed on the pommels of their swords.

King Rowe took a step up to Atlas. “How about I lock you up alongside Blackwood, eh? Teach you something for once in your spoiled, privileged life.”

Atlas’s jaw clenched at the threat. He knew his father had done just that or something far worse to Draevyn when they were just children. While he was the heir, he wasn’t entirely willing to call him on his bluff.

He swallowed his original retort. “Where’s my brother? I know you know something .”

King Rowe’s jaw locked, his eyes drifting around the room before they shot back to Atlas with a fury-filled intensity. “Leave us,” he ordered his guards.

No one moved as they exchanged weary looks.

“Now! Everyone.” He lifted his stubby finger and pointed it in Atlas’s face, making his heart thud in his chest. “Except you. ”

The guards rushed from the room, shutting the doors behind them.

“You’re afraid of Drae. You always have been,” Atlas stated the moment the click of the doors sounded.

He no longer gave a damn if his father lashed out at him. Beat him senseless, cursed his name, revoked his title as heir—Atlas no longer cared. What he cared about was his brother.

His father’s face flushed with anger. “You know nothing.”

A cackle erupted from deep within Atlas’s chest. “You think your sons don’t speak to one another because you separated them by duty? Draevyn is the only person who understands me.”

“Understands you?” The king chuckled as he shook his head.

Shadows swirled between Atlas’s fingers. “Understands what it’s like to have a father willing to sacrifice his heirs and kingdom for the sake of power.”

“Fucking Irah, you’re just as dramatic as he is.” The king rolled his eyes.

“You stand before me here and now as if you haven’t feared him since the day his power revealed itself.”

King Rowe stormed up to his son, gripped him by the collar of his shirt, and shook him violently. Atlas’s hands balled into fists, but a grin crept up his face at his father’s abuse, knowing he finally struck the nerve he intended to.

Atlas’s shadows lingered but remained hovering just beyond the king’s flesh as a subtle threat.

“Out at sea,” the king growled.

“What?” Atlas shoved out of his hold.

“Draevyn. He’s out at sea. Searching for the lost kingdom.”

Atlas huffed out a laugh. “Why wouldn’t you just say that?” He thought about it for a moment and realized none of it made any sense. “Why wouldn’t he say goodbye?” He took a step back, anger crawling back into his tone. “And why is his crew clueless down at the docks? Who is he even with?!”

“How dare you go down to the docks unaccompanied! The people in those streets are violent and nothing but filth .” The king spat the words with disgust.

Atlas’s face twisted in revulsion. “Those are your people you’re speaking of.”

The king scoffed. “As if I give a damn. You’re just as reckless and defiant as your brother.”

He was gods-damn right about that, and Atlas couldn’t have been more proud.

“And do you know who he sails with? His ship is still in our own fucking port!” He imagined striking the king then, and it took everything inside of himself to unclench his fists and appear as non-threatening as possible.

“I do not.” A malicious grin crept up his father’s face, and he knew nothing good would come of it. “But perhaps he ran off with a beautiful woman. Or perhaps he had no choice in the matter at all.” He shrugged. “Only one person in this castle knows who he sails with for sure, and it’s not I, boy.”

Atlas’s mind spun at the riddles thrown at him as he turned toward the door.

“Give up on him, Atlas,” his father called, and his steps faltered.

He straightened his shoulders as shadows hovered around him like a dark mist. “I won’t give up on him. I’m not you.”