“On that point, we agree.”
We walked. Slowly, because my body demanded it and because the forest at night was the closest thing to privacy we’d had since everything fell apart.
“I need to say a few things,” I said. “And you’re not going to want to hear them.”
“That’s usually how it works with you.”
“I failed.” No preamble or measured phrasing. “As your mate. As their king. The man responsible for every lycan in Veyndral.”
She didn’t interrupt. Just watched me with those dark eyes that saw through every defense I’d ever built.
“Solomon’s father was in captivity while I sat on a throne and felt bored. Your mother died protecting a lycan my realm should have rescued.”
The wound in my chest burned with every breath but the one inside it was worse.
“And Percival’s parents. They were on the first expedition two hundred years ago. The Order killed them both.”
Mira stopped walking.
“What?”
“He found out from Farmon. Three days ago.”
Her face went through a transformation I’d seen before. Grief into horror into fury that went deeper than personal loss.
“Two hundred years.” Her voice was quiet. “This has been going on for two hundred years. Before my father or my mother. Before any of us.” Her hand pressed flat against her stomach.
“Yes.”
“And Percival grew up alone because of it.”
I watched the scope of what we were fighting settle over her in full. A legacy of violence that stretched back centuries.
“I came to the human world because I wanted to feel alive,” I continued. “Not because my people needed me. Because I was numb. And while I was pretending to be ordinary, the Order was experimenting on lycans in a basement forty miles away. I missed all of it because I’d stopped paying attention.”
“That’s not entirely on you.”
“Enough of it is.” I stopped walking, turning to face her. “I chose duty over you because I thought the crown justified it. The Order didn’t win because they were stronger. They won because their king was absent.”
“The rejection. The council’s ultimatum. I chose the crown because choosing you felt selfish.” My voice dropped. “But you are my people, Mira. You and the three heartbeats inside you. And I will spend the rest of my reign making sure I never forget that.”
The forest held its breath.
“I have never knelt,” I said. “Not as king. Not for any council, any treaty, any kingdom. Two hundred years and my knees have never touched the ground.”
She searched my face. “You’re not serious.”
I went to my knees.
The wound screamed. The forest floor was cold and damp against my shins but I held her gaze from below and let her see what a king looked like when the crown stopped mattering.
“We swore we’d never hurt you. We swore we wouldn’t repeat what Hudson did.” The words came out rough. “And then we chose a kingdom over our mate and left you alone. The reasons don’t change the result.”
Her chin trembled. The armor that had kept her alive for years, buckling.
“Get up,” she whispered.
“Not until you hear me.”
