“This is unacceptable!” Molly Rose exclaimed, clenching her fists before planting them firmly on her hips. Her voice echoed through the hall as she glared at the guards blocking her path. “I am the lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty, and this is her younger sister. There is absolutely no reason we should be denied entry into her chambers!”

  “I-I am truly sorry, my lady,” one of the guards stammered apologetically. “But His Majesty has explicitly ordered that the queen not receive visitors.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you heard?” Molly Rose snapped. She stepped closer, trying to make herself as intimidating as possible, even though both men were taller than her. “It sounds like you might have a hearing problem.”

  “I assure you, my lady,” the other guard interjected with a frown. “These instructions came directly from His Majesty’s own mouth.”

  Molly Rose’s eyes narrowed as she reached for the small bag tied to her waist.

  “Do you want money? Is that it? I can give you several gold kings if it will get us past that door.”

  She began rummaging through her purse, ready to bribe the men, but before she could produce the money, a gentle hand on her shoulder pulled her back. Stella gave her a reassuring nod before stepping forward to address the guards.

  “Good sirs,” Stella began calmly, offering a sweet smile. “You must understand our concern. Her Majesty is far along in her pregnancy, and leaving her alone for too long is unwise. For the safety of not only her but the twins she carries, we kindly request that you allow us to check on her. We only need a moment to ensure she is well, and then we will leave.”

  The guards exchanged uneasy glances. It was clear they were torn, each one debating the consequences of their decision. The thought of disobeying a direct royal command and incurring Rhett’s wrath—or worse, facing his dragon—was terrifying. Yet the possibility of something happening to the queen and her unborn children under their watch was equally daunting. After several tense seconds, both men shook their heads reluctantly.

  “We’re very sorry, my lady,” one said regretfully. “But we cannot allow anyone to enter without His Majesty’s permission.”

  Molly Rose opened her mouth as she prepared to berate them further. However, a deep voice spoke out behind them before she could speak.

  “What is going on here?”

  The women turned as two men approached. Tristan walked ahead, carrying a pillow with a thin crown resting on top. Julian was not far behind with a deep frown.

  “Crown Father,” Stella greeted, using Julian’s new title with a dip of her head. “The guards refuse to let us enter to check on Amara.”

  “Under orders from His Majesty,” Molly Rose added with a dramatic huff, crossing her arms.

  “And what exactly were His Majesty’s instructions regarding visitors?” Julian questioned, looking to the guards as his expression darkened.

  The guards stiffened under the former king’s gaze, darting their eyes nervously between each other. Neither seemed eager to speak for fear of what might happen.

  “Did Rhett take your tongues too?” Julian demanded harshly.

  “No, Your—Crown Father,” one of the guards stuttered, struggling to find the right title. “But… uh… His Majesty… ordered that Her Majesty not receive any visitors.”

  Julian’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin.

  “And as your former king, I am now giving you a direct order—open those doors.”

  “I… we can’t,” the second guard replied nervously.

  Julian nodded slowly, as if accepting his answer, before taking several steps forward. He had a calm expression, but the men by the doors tensed up as he got closer. When Julian stood within arm’s reach of the guards, his eyes flashed deep red, and black scales rippled over his hand. Without warning, he lashed out, grabbing the closest man by the throat and yanking him forward. The guard gasped, his hands clawing at Julian’s grip as he was lifted slightly off the ground.

  “You will open those doors,” Julian snarled with a low, guttural growl that seemed to echo through the corridor. He looked between the man he held and the other guard, who stood frozen in terror. “I may no longer wear the crown, but I still have a dragon—and if you don’t obey me, I will take you both outside and let Draven feast on you. So, what will it be?”

  The guard in Julian’s grasp wheezed, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear.

  “Open… the… door…” he rasped out.

  “Good answer,” Julian smiled before shoving the man backward, sending him stumbling into the wall.

  The second guard wasted no time, rushing toward the door. He fumbled with the latch, nearly dropping the key before finally opening the door and stepping aside.

  Julian brushed by them without another word, though a puff of steam remained where he had stood. Stella and Tristan followed close behind, though the Countess paused just long enough to offer the guards a pitying look before entering the royal apartments. Molly Rose took Elara’s hand, leading her inside, but not before shooting the men a smirk.

  As the door shut behind them, Molly Rose glanced around the entertaining room, scanning every corner before turning right and heading down a long corridor. Soon, they reached the double doors leading to Amara’s bedchamber. Without hesitation, Molly Rose pushed them open.

  Amara lay across the massive bed, still in her white ball gown. The fabric was wrinkled and uncomfortable, clinging to her body. Her dark hair had fallen loose from her updo, tangling around her tear-streaked face. Her entire body shook with muffled sobs as she buried her face into a pillow, oblivious to their arrival.

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  “Ami!” Elara called out, rushing forward without a second thought. She was at her sister’s side in an instant, with Molly Rose following close behind.

  Meanwhile, Stella circled to the other side of the bed. She sat gently on the edge, brushing tangled strands of hair away from Amara’s flushed face. Julian and Tristan lingered in the doorway, staring into the room with concerned expressions. After a moment, Tristan stepped in, setting the pillow with the crown down on a nearby table.

  “Are you hurting anywhere?” Molly Rose questioned gently, taking Amara’s trembling hands in her own and giving them a gentle tug. Amara hesitated but allowed herself to be pulled upright.

  “Just my heart.” She wiped her puffy eyes with trembling fingers, leaning into Stella’s soothing touch as the Countess tucked stray strands of hair behind her ears. Slowly, her gaze lifted, looking at the group gathered in her chambers.

  “What… what are you all doing here?” She murmured in confusion. “I thought Rhett said I wasn’t allowed any visitors.”

  “He did,” Elara grumbled, settling on the bed beside her sister with a huff. “Molly Rose practically yelled at the guards until she was blue in the face.”

  “You did?” Amara raised an eyebrow as she turned to her friend. Molly Rose shrugged nonchalantly, brushing imaginary lint off her sleeve.

  “It’s nothing worth mentioning.”

  “So… how did you even get in?” Amara inquired curiously. “Did Rhett change his mind?”

  “No,” Julian replied, stepping further into the room. “Draven and I forced the guards’ hands.”

  “Oh…” Amara’s shoulders sagged as she pulled her hands from Molly Rose’s, folding them in her lap. “Then you should leave. Rhett is furious with me for naming him king. There’s no sense in any of you adding to it or getting into trouble yourselves.”

  Julian’s frown deepened as he moved to the foot of the bed.

  “You let me handle my son, little dragon,” he said firmly. “I won’t let his temper dictate what’s to be done with you. He’ll regret this once he’s calmed down.”

  “There’s no point,” Amara whispered as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. Her composure crumbled as she dropped her head into her hands. “I’ve ruined everything. I’m sure he hates me now.”

  “Rhett could never hate you, darling,” Stella assured gently while rubbing Amara’s trembling arm. “He’s just—”

  “He’s angry,” Tristan interrupted. “No... Scratch that. He’s beyond angry.”

  “You’re not helping!” Molly Rose snapped as she shot him a glare.

  “But he’s right,” Amara murmured. “I’ve never seen him so furious... or so hurt… than when I placed that ring on his finger.”

  “Why did you do it?” Julian questioned calmly, though he couldn’t help how his brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not saying you had no right—of course you did—but Rhett made it clear he didn’t want to be king. What changed?”

  Amara hesitated, looking down at her hands as her fingers twisted her dress anxiously. She had tried—many times, in fact—to tell Rhett the truth about the witch and the ring, but he’d always shut her down, unwilling to hear anything about the crown. Eventually, she stopped trying, knowing deep down what she had to do. Instead, she had spent weeks preparing herself for the fallout, but now that it was here, it felt unbearable.

  After a long silence, she finally met Julian’s gaze, hoping he would at least listen to her. Even if Rhett didn’t care, Amara desperately wanted someone to know the truth behind him becoming king.

  “When I first got the ring, a witch began visiting me in my dreams. She’d speak in riddles, but over time, I started to piece together what she meant.” Amara paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. “The ring has this…magical aspect. Essentially, it takes the worthiness and qualities of the wearer and spreads it across the kingdom. Sometimes, this is a good thing; sometimes, it’s bad. Like, if the king is kind, wise, and selfless, Sylvaris will prosper. But if he’s selfish, cruel, or corrupt—”

  “The kingdom descends into chaos,” Julian finished grimly.

  The room fell into a tense silence. All eyes darted between Julian and Amara, but no one dared to speak. They knew the truth about Julian’s reign, how it had been anything but peaceful—border disputes, attempted coups, assassination plots, and the People’s Rebellion. If the ring reflected its ruler, then it certainly mirrored Julian’s flawed nature accurately.

  “I never realized how much damage I caused as king… not until you came along, little dragon,” Julian said softly, breaking the silence. “I still remember the day Rhett shifted in the city. You came to me, furious, and told me what being a king truly meant. You said it wasn’t about lording over the people but leading them. About showing them that I was their protector—”

  “Not just their ruler,” Amara finished as she met his gaze. The memory of that day was etched deeply into her mind, as vivid as if it had just happened. “I wish I could say I regret how I spoke to you, but I don’t. You were a selfish ruler.”

  “And you were right to call me out on it,” Julian nodded with a smile. “My view on the kingdom changed. Not instantly, but slowly over time after that.”

  “I’m sorry to cut in, but why Rhett?” Tristan questioned with furrowed brows. “I know he’s a good leader and all, but was no one else able to rule instead? Was no one else good enough?”

  “Apparently not,” Amara replied with a small shake of her head. “It wasn’t just about being good enough—they also had to be a dragon shifter. And yes, I could have named plenty of other dragons out there. But according to the witch, Rhett was the one I had to choose. I can’t fully explain why because I don’t entirely understand. But I know the Creators chose me to name Rhett King.”

  “Why, though?” Tristan pressed, his frown deepening. “Rhett would have been crowned king if Julian had made the choice. Right?”

  “You’re not wrong,” Julian interjected, narrowing his eyes as he studied Amara with a tilt of his head. “So why would it need to be you?”

  Before Amara could respond, Stella spoke up.

  “Rhett changed when Amara came into his life. That’s why. The Rhett I knew two years ago wasn’t remotely as compassionate or caring as he is today. So that must be it—his love for Amara made him more suitable for the throne.”

  “That’s correct,” Amara murmured as her chest began to ache painfully. “The witch—Gwendolyn—said it was the only way to ensure Sylvaris would prosper. But it feels cruel, doesn’t it? The Creators brought him and me together, only to force me to shatter his heart by putting that crown on his head."

  Stella reached out, wrapping her arm around Amara’s shoulders and pulling her close.

  “It’ll be alright, darling,” she assured. “Rhett just needs a few days to cool off. He’s always been fiery, but his anger never lasts long.”

  “My mom’s right,” Tristan added, nodding in agreement. “Rhett can hardly stand to stay away from you, Amara. He won’t stay mad for long. He might be furious now, but deep down, he knows you wouldn’t have done this without a good reason.”

  Amara let out a shaky sigh, leaning into Stella’s comforting embrace.

  “I hope you’re right,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  “They are right, little dragon,” Julian said softly.

  Amara merely nodded, too tired to argue anymore, even though she struggled to believe that Rhett could so easily forgive her. Julian let out a deep sigh when he noticed how exhausted she looked.

  “You should rest,” he suggested before remembering why he had come in the first place. “But first, there’s something that must be done.”

  Amara’s brows furrowed in confusion as Julian stepped back, turning toward Tristan. The younger man straightened as Julian motioned toward the small pillow he had set aside earlier. The young lord nodded, picking up the pillow carefully and holding it out to Julian. The former king gently took the crown that rested on top before turning back and walking over to the side of the bed.

  “Amara,” he began, holding the crown up in the air. “By naming Rhett as king, you have ensured the future of Sylvaris. But every king needs a queen, and you, my dear, have done more for the kingdom than most do in a lifetime. You have sacrificed, endured, and risen above things that would break lesser souls. And for that, Amara, I name you Queen of Sylvaris.”

  Carefully, Julian placed the crown on her head, letting it settle against her disheveled hair. Tears welled up in Amara’s eyes as the former king leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.