“Both.” His mouth curved. Sad. Honest. “She had ideals that would've destroyed the monarchy. But she also had the fire to remake it into something better.” He paused. “I see that same fire in you. Have for years. Terrifies me.”
“Because you think I'll burn the kingdom down?”
“Because I know you will. The question is whether you'll build something worth keeping from the ashes.”
The words settled over me. Heavy. True.
“I don't know if I can,” I admitted. “I'm not her. I'm. Broken in ways she never was.”
“You're not broken. You're grieving. There's a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Yes.” He leaned forward. “Broken things can't be fixed. But grief? Grief just needs time. And the right person to share the weight.”
I thought about Viktor. About the way he carried his own ghosts. The way we'd learned to shoulder each other's burdens without asking permission.
“I think I found that person,” I said quietly.
My father smiled. “I know you did.”
He reached into his pocket. Pulled out a ring. Small. Delicate. Gold band with a single emerald. “Your mother wanted you to have this. When you were ready.”
I stared at it. Recognized it immediately.
Her signet ring. The one she'd worn every day. The one she'd pressed into my palm that night while she bled.
“I'm not ready,” I said.
“No one ever is.” He took my hand. Pressed the ring into my palm. Just like she had. “But you're close enough.”
The metal was warm from his pocket. From his hand. From memory.
“What if I fail?” The question came out broken. Young. “What if I can't be what she needed me to be?”
“Then you fail. And you try again. That's all any of us can do.” His grip tightened. “Your mother didn't die so you could be perfect. She died so you could live. Really live. Not just survive.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“I miss her.”
“I know. So do I.” He pulled me into a hug. Held me while I fell apart. “Every damn day.”
We stayed like that until the tears stopped. Until I could breathe again without it hurting.
When we finally pulled apart, I felt lighter. Cleaner. Like something had broken open and drained.
“Thank you,” I said. “For. This. For talking to me like I'm human instead of just an heir.”
“You're my son first. Always.” He wiped at his own eyes. “Even when you're impossible. Especially then.”
A knock interrupted. Viktor at the threshold. Silent. Watchful. Eyes finding mine immediately.
“Sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty,” he said. “But we need to move. Adrian's confirmed Marcel's location.”
My father stood. Looked at Viktor. Then back at me.
“Watch over him tonight,” he said. Not a command. A plea. “Tomorrow the walls will shake. But tonight. Let him rest.”
