[POV William Whirikal, King of Whirikal]

  The corridor leading to Miah’s private chambers felt, that night, longer and more suffocating than usual.

  I had walked those same marble halls and ancient tapestries hundreds of times: after exhausting war councils where the kingdom’s map seemed to shrink, after endless audiences with fork-tongued diplomats, and even on those rare nights of victory when wine flowed through the castle’s veins. Yet this time, every step weighed as if I were wearing an invisible armor forged from ten years of silence, questionable decisions, and buried remorse. The echo of my own boots against the stone sounded like a verdict.

  I stopped in front of the sandalwood door. My hand—the same one that signed death sentences and peace treaties without trembling—hesitated before touching its surface.

  For the first time since I had taken the crown after my father’s death, I did not know how to knock. I could not enter as the supreme ruler of Whirikal, nor as the commander-in-chief of the northern armies. I had to enter as a husband who had hidden a painful truth, and as a father who had failed at the most basic task of nature.

  I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cold air of the corridor, and knocked softly.

  "Come in."

  Miah’s voice came from the other side, den with a weariness that could not fully conceal her innate elegance. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The room was submerged in a welcoming gloom, lit only by the glow of an oil mp and the dying fire in the firepce. Miah was seated by the window, watching the snow fall over the royal gardens. On the table before her y a small open cherrywood chest. In her hands, she held with almost religious delicacy a pale blue ribbon, embroidered with silver threads that had lost some of their original shine.

  I recognized it immediately. It was the ribbon Leah used to tie her hair when she pyed in the gardens of the eastern wing. Her favorite.

  Miah looked up when she saw me. For an instant, her eyes reflected surprise at my te visit, but that spark was quickly repced by a wounded caution that cut deeper than any reproach from an enemy.

  "William… did something happen at the border? Or is it about the council?" she asked, trying to maintain her composure.

  I closed the door behind me, sealing off the outside world.

  "It’s not about the kingdom, Miah. It’s about us. And I couldn’t wait until morning to tell you."

  I moved slowly until I stood before her. Miah set the ribbon down on the table, but her fingers remained brushing it, as if she feared that stepping away would cause the st trace of her daughter to vanish into the air.

  "You know already, don’t you?" she whispered, and I saw her eyes instantly moisten.

  I nodded, my throat tightening.

  "Yes. I know. Ronan and the Tower mages have finished the analysis."

  Her hands trembled slightly, wrinkling the silk of her dress. "Then…?"

  "The proof is authentic, Miah. There is no margin for error—no political doubt, no suspicion of illusion magic. The artifact reacted to her essence, the blood resonance records match point by point… The young woman who stood before us… Leah… is our daughter. She always was."

  Miah closed her eyes and released a breath that felt as though she had been holding it for a decade. She did not cry immediately. First came a dense silence, an absolute void filled with everything we had not said since the night we decided to reduce the search. Then her breathing broke into a muffled sob.

  "So it was true…" she whispered, her voice shattered. "All this time, she was out there… suffering, waiting, while we—"

  I knelt in front of her, ignoring protocol, royal dignity, and the stiffness of my own back. I took her hands in mine; they were ice-cold.

  "It’s true. And I was the one who doubted her the most. I was the one who, blinded by duty and fear of deception, shut the door in her face the very first day she returned to Whirikal. I was the one who treated her like a dangerous stranger."

  Miah opened her eyes, now flooded with tears that streamed freely down her cheeks.

  "I did it too, William. Don’t carry all the bme alone. When I saw her in the great hall—so composed, so different from the ten-year-old girl I remembered—I was afraid. I was so terrified it was an illusion, that my heart would break again, that I chose to believe she was an impostor. I denied my own daughter an embrace."

  "We were afraid to face the truth that we abandoned her," I admitted, the weight of shame burning in my chest. "Accepting that it was truly her meant accepting that we failed as her protectors."

  Miah leaned forward, resting her forehead against mine. The scent of jasmine in her hair mixed with the smoke of the firepce. There we were—the two sovereigns of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world—reduced to two parents broken by remorse.

  "We closed the door of her home to the one person who fought through hell to return to it," she said between sobs.

  "And yet," I added, tightening my grip on her hands, "she did not return seeking revenge. She did not demand titles, nds, or gold. She came with dignity, asking only to be acknowledged. She just wanted to come home."

  That was when Miah truly broke down, burying her face against my shoulder. Her tears soaked the embroidery of my royal tunic. After what felt like an eternity, she pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, revealing a determination only a mother can possess.

  "I want to do something, William. Words aren’t enough. I need to give her something that tells her we’re sorry—something that eases this regret that’s burning me alive."

  "What do you have in mind?" I asked, ready to move mountains if she asked it of me.

  Miah looked again at the blue ribbon on the table, then at a small gold ring with an aquamarine gem resting inside the chest.

  "I thought of giving her a gift. Something that is hers by right, but also something personal. Something to remind her that even though the world broke for her, we always kept her pce here. But…" her voice faltered, "nothing seems enough. No jewel, no dress, no title can compensate for ten years of captivity."

  "It won’t," I admitted with brutal honesty. "Nothing we do can erase the past. But it doesn’t have to be enough right away. What matters is that from today on, we never fail her again. The best way to atone for our mistakes is to protect her future with the same ferocity with which she protected her own identity."

  Miah nodded, strengthened by my words. "When did you invite her to return to the castle for good?"

  "In a week."

  Miah frowned, maternal instinct fring instantly. "Why wait? She should be here right now, in her room!"

  "Because it isn’t entirely safe yet, Miah," I replied with the gravity of a king. "There are factions among the nobility who benefited from the succession being in doubt. There are those who fear that Leah has returned ‘changed’ by the demons. I need to cleanse the court before she sets foot here. I want her return to be a triumph, not a political battlefield where she becomes a target."

  Miah pressed her lips together, understanding the bitter logic of the pace. "Then we will have to be stronger than ever."

  "I promised her she would return with her siblings, with Eliot, with all of us. That this would be her home again—not just politically, but as our daughter."

  Miah wiped away the st of her tears and gave me a sad but hopeful smile. "Thank you, William. Go and do what you must. I will prepare that gift for her. Even if it’s small. Even if it isn’t enough."

  I left her chambers with my heart heavy from my wife’s pain, but with a steel resolve I had not felt in years. The father had had his moment; now it was the King’s turn.

  The great audience hall was overflowing. News of an emergency royal summons at midnight had spread like wildfire. High-ranking nobles, ashen-faced counselors, and generals with hands resting on their sword hilts filled the space, weaving a murmur of suspicion and conspiracy.

  I ascended the steps to the throne and stood before them. I did not sit. I wanted them to see me as the judge of their fate.

  "Silence," I commanded.

  The hall fell so quiet that the crackling of the torches against the walls could be heard.

  "I have called this meeting to announce a matter of vital importance to Whirikal’s future," I began, my voice carrying an authority that allowed no challenge. "My daughter, Princess Leah Whirikal, lives. She has returned to the kingdom after a decade of unjust captivity."

  A violent wave of murmurs swept through the hall. I saw faces of genuine relief—but also pallor, narrowed eyes, and hands clenching into fists beneath finely decorated tables.

  "The proofs of identity have been verified by the Royal Tower and the Guild Master. Her authenticity is indisputable. In one week, Leah will officially return to the castle to recim her pce within the royal family. Any doubt cast upon this matter will be treated as a direct offense against the crown."

  I did not wait for questions. I did not seek their approval. I turned on my heel and left the hall at a brisk pace, followed by my personal guard.

  I had not reached halfway down the corridor leading to my private offices when I was intercepted. Two nobles—Duke Aris and Count Valerius, both old allies of my father and men of immense political weight—stepped into my path with bows that could barely be called respectful.

  "Your Majesty," Aris said, his voice smooth as velvet yet ced with venom. "With all due respect to your joy as a father… we believe this decision is extremely dangerous for the kingdom’s stability."

  I stopped short, feeling my blood begin to boil beneath my skin. "Expin yourself, Duke."

  "The princess’s return raises concerns," Valerius interjected, stepping forward. "She spent ten years with the enemy. Who can guarantee her mind was not shaped by them? Her presence will destabilize the current heirs. The more conservative factions will not accept her easily."

  Aris leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Perhaps the most prudent course for Whirikal, for the sake of social peace, would be… to eliminate the problem before it grows. A tragedy on the road, a sudden illness… the people would understand."

  Something inside me broke beyond repair. The mask of diplomacy shattered. I turned slowly toward them, and the look I gave them made Valerius step back, going pale.

  "Eliminate… my daughter?" I repeated, my voice dropping to a dangerous tone.

  "For the good of the kingdom, sire," Aris insisted, unaware he was digging his own grave. "Sometimes a monarch must sacrifice what he loves most—"

  "Guards!"

  The shout thundered through the corridor.

  Two soldiers of my elite guard appeared instantly, their spears striking the floor in perfect rhythm.

  "Escort these men to their residences and pce them under constant surveilnce," I ordered. "And you—" I pointed to my most loyal subordinate, a captain of intelligence, "I want a thorough investigation into Duke Aris and Count Valerius. I want every alliance they’ve forged, every coin they’ve moved, and every word they’ve spoken in the darkness of their basements over the past months. If they have conspired against my blood, no dungeon will be deep enough for them."

  The nobles tried to protest, their once-arrogant faces now twisted with panic.

  "Your Majesty, this is a misunderstanding! We were only concerned for your safety!"

  "Leave before I decide surveilnce is not enough!" I roared.

  When the echo of their hurried footsteps and the guards faded away, I stood alone in the vast corridor. I looked toward the great window overlooking the city, where I knew Leah, Liselotte, and Chloé rested under a fragile calm.

  I clenched my fists, feeling the cold of the royal ring against my finger. I was no longer the man who hesitated. No longer the king who sacrificed his family for a fictitious peace.

  "No one," I whispered into the darkness of the corridor, with a resolve that would shake the foundations of Whirikal. "Absolutely no one will stand in the way of my family’s reunion."

  I had failed once, and the price had been ten years of darkness. There would not be a second time.

  Even if I had to purge the entirety of Whirikal’s nobility, Leah would come home.