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L arylis had never hated being king more than he did now. He understood what Mareleau needed to do. Understood the importance of his duties in defending Vera’s shores. But why did necessity and duty have to stand in such stark contrast with his heart? Why was the best solution to be separated—however briefly—from his wife and child?

He climbed the stairs to the keep, his pace brisk to catch up with Mareleau. Then he found her. Gone was her haughty anger, her fierce demeanor. Instead, she sat slumped on the top step, shoulders hunched, head lowered. He rushed the rest of the way up and crouched on the step below her, bringing them face to face.

“Mare, what’s wrong?” He winced at the question, for he knew what was wrong—everything. Everything was wrong.

She lifted her face, her cheeks wet with tears. When she spoke, her voice was small. “My neck hurts.”

His eyes darted down to the collar. The skin around the puncture was red and inflamed. His heart fissured at the sight of it, but where cracks had formed, tenderness flooded in. It left no room for bitterness or anger. Only love and logic. The two things he treasured most.

“The Forest People will help you,” he said, and he hoped it was true. It had to be. He’d seen them wielding vines as weapons at Centerpointe Rock. Stifling Mareleau’s magic or teaching her how to build magical wards around her powers had to be possible.

Being separated from Mareleau and Noah no longer seemed like something to rail against. It still tore him up to think of being away from them, of Noah experiencing a single day where his father wasn’t present or involved, but he could accept it now. He could let her go, knowing she’d find physical relief from her current pain. He could return to Vera and rally his forces, knowing he was defending their home. Noah’s future.

His heart, necessity, and duty were aligned after all.

She sniffled and attempted to dry her eyes. “I hope so.”

He shifted onto the step beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. She started to lean toward him but released a hiss of pain.

“I can’t even lean into you,” she said, and that brought on a renewed flood of tears.

Larylis folded himself around her as best he could without disrupting the collar, caressing her back, stroking her hair. For several long moments, she simply cried. He was grateful for the late hour and the fact that most—if not all—the wedding guests had already departed. Mareleau would be embarrassed if anyone else saw her this way. She always put on such a proud facade around others. She’d even done so with him, acting cold and haughty whenever they’d been forced to interact during their three-year estrangement. He’d witnessed firsthand just how readily she wielded her outer composure as a shield.

But shields could break, and hers had borne its brunt of emotional warfare the last few days. She needed this release of tears, this moment where she could safely crumble. He was determined to give it to her. To make it last as long as she needed. And if anyone dared intrude, if someone so much as stepped foot at the base of the stairs, he’d impale them with a glare so dark they’d leave in an instant.

Luckily, no unwanted interlopers found them, and soon Mareleau had cried her fill. He was about to extend his hand and offer to escort her to her suite when she blurted out a question that had him rooted in place.

“Did I force you to fall in love with me?”

He blinked at her, unable to find any strand of logic or reason in her question. Her cheeks were dry now but her eyes were distant, and she pointedly refused to meet his gaze. “What do you mean?” he asked.

She pursed her lips before answering. “I mean my magic. Did I use my magic on you to make you fall in love with me? Did I…conjure a glamour that made me desirable?”

He remained dumbfounded. How could she consider such a thing?

She spoke again, her words becoming increasingly rushed. “Now that Cora has told me that my…my magic trick is real, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve used it in ways I wasn’t aware of. I’ve ended unwanted engagements with it. I’ve made men think I was ugly, clingy, or annoying—whatever would cast me in an unfavorable light—which I always thought was just me acting. But it wasn’t just acting. It was a glamour. And if I can create a glamour to make men dislike me, then I can?—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he said, his tone firm. He returned to his previous position, facing her on the step below. He wouldn’t make her turn her head just to meet his eyes. Instead, he gave her no other place to look, filling her vision as he crouched before her. Tenderly, he gathered her hands in his. “You didn’t cast a glamour to make me fall in love with you.”

Tears glazed her eyes. “How do you know?”

“Because,” he said, allowing his lips to tilt at one side, “if you recall, I didn’t like you at all when we met. We bickered all the time. I insulted you in ways I’m embarrassed to recall all these years later.”

She emitted a shaky laugh that was half tangled in a sob. “I insulted you worse.”

He returned the laugh. “Yes, the flirtations of fifteen-year-olds leave much to be desired. Yet isn’t that proof enough? Our first kiss was in the middle of an argument. Would I have pressed my lips to yours while you were hurling insults at me if I hadn’t been completely and utterly smitten with you?”

“That sounds like proof that I did use magic on you,” she said, yet there was humor in her tone. “Who in their right mind would have kissed a prickly woman like me?”

“Someone who loved you, petals, thorns, and all.”

She chuckled. “Of all the men who’ve ever had the nerve to compare me to a flower, I never expected you to be one of them.”

“Honestly, I saw your thorns long before I saw your petals. Before and after that sweet stretch of time when we first fell in love, you only showed me those thorns.”

It harkened back to the nickname he and Teryn once gave her: Thorn Princess. Larylis had uttered the moniker disparagingly on many occasions, but in his secret heart of hearts, he’d carried a feeble hope he’d feel even the slightest prick of her ire. If that was all he’d ever get from her, he’d take it.

“I loved those thorns,” he whispered.

Her expression softened. She shifted her hands, no longer limp beneath his, and clasped his palms.

“I’ve only ever seen you,” Larylis said. “You, exactly as you are. Wicked and beautiful. Brave and cruel. Sensitive, sweet, and kind. Fierce, fiery, and bold. I’ve seen what you hide and what you present to the world. I’ve seen your love and loyalty. Your bitterness and rage. If you’ve ever cast a glamour, I’ve never seen it, Mare. Just you.”

Her face crumpled, returning to tears. “It’s so unfair,” she wailed, gesturing to the collar. “I would have kissed you just now, but I can’t lean?—”

Larylis cut her off with a press of his lips. It was a soft kiss, just a tender brush lest anything firmer make her jostle the collar, but it was what they both needed. A gentle reminder of their love. The sweetness that was forever between them, even on the darkest of days. Their relationship had seen its share of challenges, and they’d come out stronger after each one. They would get through this too.

Mareleau felt empty as she entered her quarters, but it wasn’t the bad sort of emptiness. It was a refreshing kind. She’d released so much with her tears, shed layers of frustration, bared doubts that had haunted her these last few days. Larylis’ loving words had placed a balm on her soul. She could still feel the warmth of his hands, even though he was no longer holding them.

He’d left after escorting her to her suite, for he now had travel plans to organize for his return to Vera, but he would be back tonight, to spend what may be their final evening together before they had to part ways.

She hated the thought of being away from him, but she hated the collar more. She’d do whatever it took to rid herself of the device. Even if it meant traveling by magic to plead for the aid of strangers. Strangers who had magic. Strangers who might know more about her and Noah’s role in the prophecy.

Her confidence flared as she opened the door to her bedroom, and she was able to greet her mother without betraying a hint of the emotions she’d succumbed to in the stairwell. Helena sat in a chair by the window, staring out at the night sky while Noah dozed in his bassinet, set upon a mahogany stand. Mareleau’s heart softened further as she approached the bassinet and took in her son’s peaceful face. The sight of him swept away the remnants of her woes and replaced them with a tingling warmth. She wanted to gather him in her arms and hug him to her chest, but she resisted, not wanting to wake him. He’d likely wake to nurse shortly anyway.

She approached the window and assessed the inky sky spread above the dark silhouette of mountains. “Any sign of dragons?”

Helena finally tore her gaze from the window. “No, not since they departed earlier.” Her eyes drifted down to Mareleau’s neck, narrowing on the collar.

Mareleau braced herself for the questions she knew were coming. Her mother had begged her to explain what was going on, why she wore the strange collar, why she no longer needed to stay cooped up in her room. Mareleau had given her only curt answers, mostly consisting of halfhearted promises of later , and she’d eventually need to make good on that. Yet all the bracing in the world couldn’t prepare her for the words that left her mother’s lips.

“Were you present the night your father died?”

Mareleau stiffened, her chest tightening. She swallowed the dryness in her throat and forced a casual tone. “You know I was at the camp for the signing of the peace pact.”

“Yet you were not with those who were attacked. You, Larylis, Teryn, Aveline, and your ladies were the only survivors.”

“We were the only ones who’d stayed behind while the others went out on the hunt.” Despite her attempts to sound nonchalant, a tremor racked her voice.

“So you didn’t see the rabid beast that attacked the party.”

A shudder tore through her as visions of flame and monstrous flesh entered her mind. She couldn’t bring herself to say no. Couldn’t carry on with the same story she’d allowed her mother to believe. The same story that had been released to the public. “Why do you ask?”

Helena exhaled a slow sigh, her attention drifting back to the window. “Now that I’ve witnessed dragons, creatures that shouldn’t exist, I can’t help but think of the rumors. Ones of wraiths and monsters during the battle at Centerpointe Rock. And it makes me wonder about what happened to your father. Makes me question if it hadn’t been a rabid beast at all, but something…something more like…”

Helena trailed off, jaw going slack. She looked so worn, the furrow on her brow deepening all the other lines in her face. Her skin, while normally radiant, was dull and pale. Her gray-brown hair hung long and limp around her shoulders.

Mareleau had been so distracted by Noah, by the stresses and novelty of being a new mother, by the revelations regarding the prophecy, at the unfairness of being cloistered in her room, that she hadn’t given her mother much thought. Now she realized this was one of the first times she’d seen Helena without her signature extravagant state of dress. Ever since Noah was born, she’d stayed with Mareleau, refusing to join the others when Mareleau took to seclusion in her room. She’d donned simple clothing, didn’t complain about their lack of maids, and aided Mareleau into her nursing gown each day as if she were the maid. Over the last few days, Helena hadn’t acted as the esteemed queen mother. Just…Mareleau’s mother.

A pang of guilt struck her heart.

Helena shook her head and faced Mareleau once more. “I know I haven’t been the best mother to you, and I know I’ve given you reasons not to trust me. I betrayed your love when I intercepted your letters with Larylis and had new ones forged. I abandoned you to your suitors and didn’t apologize when they hurt you or made unwanted advances. I know I don’t deserve your trust, but I’m asking you to try to let me earn it. To please not shut me out. If there’s something going on, some burden you’re carrying, something you’re not telling me…please invite me in.”

Her mother’s expression was so vulnerable, so sincere, it tore down her defenses.

It was time to tell the truth.

With a sad smile on her lips, she perched upon the bed.

“Come,” Mareleau said, patting the spot beside her. “There is much I need to explain.”