Page 120 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

"Hmm," she said, tone as serious as an art critic evaluating a painting. "Not bad. But it'd look better on Mommy."

She took the wreath from my head and turned to Mia. Mia crouched down, letting her place the wreath on her head. Purple wildflowers and white daisies bloomed among her dark brown hair, glowing softly in the sunlight.

"Does Mommy look pretty?" Lily asked.

"Beautiful," I said, voice hoarser than expected. "Very beautiful."

Mia looked up and glanced at me. That look held no defense, no coldness, only a faint warmth like spring afternoon sunlight.

"Your wreath is crooked," she said.

I reached up to touch my head—empty. Lily had already taken the wreath away.

"You tricked me."

"Mm-hmm," she said, standing up and brushing grass from her skirt. "I did."

She took Lily's hand and turned toward the deeper grass. Lily looked back and waved at me. "Daddy, hurry! We found a rabbit nest!"

I stood there, watching their figures grow smaller in the sunlight. Wind blew over, bringing the scent of grass and flowers, and Lily's laughter, echoing through the air.

Then I smiled.

I set off and followed them.

That evening, after Lily fell asleep, I found Mia in the garden.

She sat on the fountain edge, barefoot, toes dipping in the water. Moonlight scattered across the water's surface, fragmenting into silvery-white points of light that swayed gently with the ripples. She held a glass of red wine but wasn't drinking, just staring at the water in a daze.

I sat down beside her. She didn't pull away or move farther. This was a good sign—a sign so small it was almost negligible, but more important to me than any diplomatic victory.

"Lily asleep?" she asked.

"Yes. Before bed, she asked if she could ride again tomorrow."

"What did you say?"

"I said as long as her mother agrees, I can be her horse every day."

Mia made a sound—whether laugh or mockery, I couldn't tell. "Don't spoil her. She's already starting to think His Majesty is her personal mount."

"She's not wrong," I said, watching the broken moon reflection on the water. "I am her personal mount. For life."

She was silent for a few seconds, then raised her glass and took a sip. Her profile looked especially soft in the moonlight, eyelashes casting shallow shadows on her cheeks.

"Zane," she began, voice light, "have you ever thought about if we—"

She stopped, didn't continue.

"If we what?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Never mind. Not important."

"It's important," I said, turning to look at her. "Everything you say is important."

She finally turned her head, looking at me. Moonlight fell in her eyes, turning them silver. She looked at me like she was looking at someone she'd once loved, hated, and didn't know whether to love again.

"If we hadn't separated back then," she said, "what do you think we'd be like?"