He let out a slow breath and looked to his soon-to-be queen. They still technically needed to marry. Everything became so godsdamn rushed once his father passed, but she was his wife all the same.
In the low candlelight, Elowynne looked ethereal. The gold coronation gown clung to her in all the regal ways it should, and the rubies in her hair shone with every subtle movement.
She was gorgeous. Everything he never thought he’d ever have or deserve.
But the way she stood there in silence began to unsettle him.
Was she afraid? Truthfully, she had every right to be if she was. Everything had happened so fast, and now they were left to pick up the pieces of a kingdom bleeding behind closed doors. A kingdom that was still so foreign to her, even though he recalled how much she admitted to loathing her own.
Atlas knew he didn’t deserve her loyalty, but gods help him, he needed it.
“I know this isn’t how you imagined our reign would begin,” he said before clearing his throat. “And you’ve been stronger than I’ve been through all of this.”
He slowly moved toward her, searching her face as she stood entirely still. “Is everything alright, Wynne?”
She continued to stare at him, not saying a word.
Atlas reached for her, sliding one arm around her waist, the other hand rising to rest lightly against the back of her head. When he pulled her close, she didn’t resist, but she didn’t melt into him either.
He rested his chin atop her head. “I don’t want you to fear me,” he murmured. “Not ever. Not because of what I had to do. I know what’s said about my blood, about the Rowe name. But I’m not him. I’m not my father.”
Laughter slipped from her, and he froze as the sound gave off a soft echo. It wasn’t her usual laugh, certainly not the one that broke free when they were teasing each other. This one was lower, silkier, like it was wrapping itself around his throat.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Elowynne finally said. “Why would I be?”
Before he could respond, she stepped out of his arms, putting space between them.
“You just don’t seem like yourself,” he said cautiously.
Elowynne turned fully then, her expression unreadable as her eyes held his. “Your brother,” she changed the subject. “Why do you think he lied?”
Atlas didn’t answer right away. Draevyn’s betrayal still hadn’t settled properly. The chaos of that night, the memory of Esmyra bleeding, the fire, the screams, his brother rushing to her side to help…
“I don’t know,” he said, the words stiff. “I trusted him with my life. I still don’t understand what changed. Maybe Esmyra did something to him… manipulated his mind or something.”
“She didn’t.” Elowynne’s words were clipped, as if taking offense.
“I know she’s not elven, but she has other ways. Other powers beyond our understanding.” Atlas sighed. “Or maybe… Maybe he reallydoeslove her.”
Elowynne’s body jolted, and she took a step back, looking like she was physically struck. “What?”
Atlas’s brows furrowed. “I mean, he’s said it several times, but I just can’t fathom how the man could fall so deeply for a fucking monster,” he said. “But maybe it’s true, and he does love her. And that’s why he let her go.”
She scoffed, sucking in a breath. “Draevyn doesnotlove her.”
“Since when is that what you believe, Wynne?” Atlas cocked his head to the side as he studied her. She was acting so strange, so unlike herself. “And this wouldn’t be the first time a man chose love over honor.”
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Someone as honorable as Draevyn would never risk everything for someone like her.”
“That’s also how I felt, but it appears I don’t know my brother as well as I assumed,” Atlas admitted, stepping close enough that her breath warmed his collarbone. “Because that’s exactly what he did.”
He exhaled, shaking off the storm of thoughts. The fire crackled in the hearth, the echo loud in the silence between them.
“But enough of this,” Atlas said, giving her a soft smile. “Will you come to bed with me?”
With a glint in her eye, she placed her hand in his, letting him lead her toward the bed.
The maroon velvet curtains around the canopy rustled as he sat on the mattress staring up at her. He watched her in the dim firelight, struck again by her elven beauty. The way her hair fell, the curve of her cheek, the line of her neck. But there was a stiffness to her movements, acting as if they hadn’t shared a bed several times before.
