Sybil’s POV
The morning sun streams through my chamber windows when the knock comes. I'm already dressed, having barely slept, my mind replaying last night's disaster over and over until the memories blur together into one endless nightmare.
"Come in," I call out when the knock at my door comes, expecting Maren with breakfast I won't eat.
But it's Kyrell who fills the doorway.
We never brought up our interrupted kiss. I keep telling myself it’s just never the right time with everything going on… But the truth is much more complicated—I’m simply not sure I’m ready to acknowledge what’s between us.
The air feels different now, awkward yet thrilling, like standing too close to lightning and knowing one wrong move could make it strike.
"Your Majesty." His voice is formal, but his eyes aren't. "I have news."
"Good news or bad news?"
"That depends on your perspective." He steps inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "King Leander has granted you a permission for a nursery visit. Brief, controlled, but permitted."
My breath catches. "When?"
"This afternoon, after the midday meal." He crosses the room, stopping closer than necessary. "But there are conditions. You'll make no accusations. You'll hold them, love them silently, and then you'll give them back. Can you do that?"
My hands start shaking before I can stop them. "I don't know…"
"You have to know, Sybil." His voice turns firm, almost harsh. "Because if you break down again, if you make another scene, Leander won't give you a second chance. This might be the only time you get to touch them before we leave Reaton."
"I know. I know that, I just…" My voice cracks. "What if I can't let go? What if holding them makes it worse instead of better?"
He crosses the remaining distance between us, his fingers brushing my cheek—testing, asking permission for something neither of us has named. The touch burns through me, anchoring and unsettling simultaneously.
"I know this might destroy you," he says quietly, his voice dropping lower. "But you have to survive it. You have to be strong enough to walk away, because your sons need you whole. They need their mother to reclaim them, not to shatter trying."
I lean into his touch without thinking, and for a heartbeat we're frozen like that. Caught between what happened and what we're both too afraid to discuss. His thumb strokes across my cheekbone, and I see his gaze drop to my lips before snapping back up.
Then he steps away, duty and propriety pulling us apart like they always do.
"I'll escort you to the nursery," he says, his voice returning to something more controlled. "My father will be there as well. We won't let anything happen to you."
"I'm not worried about what will happen to me. I'm worried about what I'll do."
"I know." His expression softens. "But I have faith in your strength, even if you don't."
Our walk to the nursery feels endless. Leander escorts me himself, appearing without warning to lead the way. Duke Phideus trails behind us, Kyrell beside him, guards keeping discrete distance.
The message is clear: Leander doesn't fully trust me.
Doesn't trust that I won't try to run with the babies. That I won't make another scene, that I won't prove myself as mad as everyone claims.
We don't speak as we walk through corridors I once knew like my own heartbeat. But I'm acutely aware of him beside me. The man who destroyed me, who chose to believe lies rather than fight for truth, now walks beside me like a stranger wearing a familiar face.
The nursery door opens, and afternoon sunlight floods out. I see two cradles positioned near the windows where the light is best.
Both babies are awake—one solemn and watching the room with serious gray eyes, one babbling happily and waving tiny fists at nothing.
My sons.
A nursemaid is there, straightening suddenly when we enter. She curtsies nervously.
"Leave us," Leander says quietly. "Wait outside."
She flees without meeting my eyes as I approach the cradles slowly, my breath catching with every step.
"You have fifteen minutes," Leander says from behind me. "That's all."
I nod without turning around. Fifteen minutes to memorize everything about them, to hold what was stolen from me. To love them loud enough that some part of them remembers even after I'm forced to let go.
I lift Cassiel first, the solemn one. The moment his weight settles in my arms, my body responds instantly—every cell in my body screaming that this is my child. Mine.
"Hello, sweet boy," I whisper, bringing him close to my face. "I'm here, Ma'ma is here…"
He blinks at me with those serious gray eyes—my eyes—and makes a small sound that might be recognition or might be nothing. But I choose to believe.
I memorize his weight, the exact warmth of him, the way his tiny fist curls near his mouth. I shift his swaddling carefully, checking for the birthmark on his arm and… There. The four-pointed star, familiar and undeniable.
"I see you," I whisper against his soft hair. "I see exactly who you are."
Then I place him gently back and lift Kai, the squirmy one who grabs immediately at my hair with enthusiastic fists. He babbles at me, loud and insistent, as if scolding me for taking so long to visit.
"I know," I tell him, my voice breaking. "I know, sweet boy. I'm sorry, Ma'ma is so sorry…"
He pulls my hair hard enough to hurt, and I laugh through my tears. My heart breaks and mends simultaneously, shattering and reforming with every second I hold him.
Throughout it all, I feel Leander watching from the doorway. I don't look at him, but I sense his presence—analytical, searching. Trying to find truth in how I hold them, how they settle in my arms.
Whether Cassiel calmed when I picked him up, whether Kai's babbling intensified at the sound of my voice as if some part of him remembers the womb where he lived for nine months.
But too soon, far too soon, my fifteen minutes are over.
"Time, Lady Rosetta," Duke Phideus says gently, using my old name.
Putting Kai back is agony. Every instinct screams to hold tighter, to run, to refuse. But I force my arms to loosen, my hands to release. I place him in his cradle with infinite care, tucking the blanket around him even though my hands shake so badly I can barely manage it.
"I love you," I whisper to both of them. "More than anything in this world. And I will come back for you. I swear."
I turn away before I can change my mind, before the maternal instinct can override everything else and make me do something irreversible. Leander stands in the doorway, watching me with an expression I can't read.
As I approach, he steps aside to let me pass. But Duke Phideus doesn't follow immediately. He lingers, speaking quietly with the guards about something. The corridor feels suddenly empty—just Leander and me, standing too close in a space that feels too small.
"Thank you," I manage, my voice raw. "For letting me see them."
He studies my face, and for just a moment, that analytical mask slips. I see something underneath—confusion, doubt, maybe even pain.
Then his hand reaches up, unconscious, perhaps driven by old memory rather than conscious thought. His fingers brush my face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear with unexpected gentleness.
The gesture is so familiar it stops my heart.
He used to do this all the time when we were happy. Fix my hair, touch my face, find excuses to maintain physical contact. The intimacy of it, the achingly familiar tenderness, makes time freeze completely.
We stand there, caught in a moment that belongs to who we used to be. His fingers linger against my cheek, his blue eyes hold mine with something that looks almost like longing.
Then awareness crashes back and his hand drops like I've burned him.
Leander steps away, his voice returning to formal coolness. "You maintained composure, and I appreciate your restraint. That's... that's all I wanted to say."
Then he's walking away quickly, nearly fleeing down the corridor, leaving me standing there near the nursery and with the crushing weight of everything I just held and lost again.
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