I learn from Aunt Petunis for a while before I say abruptly. "I am tired and I want to see my husband."
"Your husband will need to undergo the scouring," Petunis says, without turning. "Before he is permitted to move freely within these walls."
"It is not necessary," I say.
She turns then. "The protocol exists for a reason?—"
"It is not necessary," I repeat. “And he will move freely wherever he wishes.”
"You may not--"
Before she can finish her protest I answer her calmly. "I am the Queen Heir, Aunt Petunis. So, in fact, I may."
Something moves across her face. Anger. Then something quieter. Harder.
Respect.
When I return to Colsar’s rooms, he isn’t there.
Fear hits fast, tightening in my chest before I can stop it. For a moment, I am certain something has gone wrong. That he has worsened. That I left him too soon.
Then Syle’s voice slips quietly into my mind.
“We’re in the north courtyard. Behind the gazebo.”
Relief hits just as hard. I turn and move quickly, the lingering panic pushing me faster than I intend.
I find them gathered in the sunlight.
Colsar sits on a stone bench, Uralish beside him. Syle leans against the wall behind them, Enovar beside him, the two of them deep in what appears to be a quiet argument about something that does not matter. It is such an ordinary scene that it almost feels unreal after everything.
“Uncle,” I say, nodding to Uralish. “Cousins.”
I do not wait for more. I cross straight to Colsar and sit beside him, my hand already reaching for his arm.
“You should not be up,” I tell him quietly. “You need rest.”
“The fuck he does,” Uralish cuts in. “You healed him. Now he needs his strength back. He needs to run his beast. I’ll take him tonight.”
I glance at Colsar despite myself. He looks… stronger. Not just healed. Changed. His hair has grown longer, falling past his jaw, his shoulders broader than I remember. He has shaved, the sharp lines of his face clearer now, more defined.
More dangerous.
“Why the rush?” I ask.
Uralish’s expression hardens. “Because, Queen heir, you are not going to stay pregnant forever. And if you want your child to live, you need to get out of here before you give birth.”
Syle’s voice follows, quieter but no less firm.
You have avoided this long enough, Asharin. Your husband is here. Now the conversation happens.
“I don’t even know where we would go,” I admit.
Uralish exhales sharply. “You failed to mention your husband rules an entire realm.”
I turn to Colsar. “Is it not overrun with undead?”
“The mountains are,” he says. “But Shalvar itself still stands. The wards hold. The Sovereign’s castle is heavily protected. There’s even an escape passage beneath it. A boat that leads straight to the Western Reach.”
