The king's breath stilled.
Silence fell upon the chamber like a heavy curtain.
King Garron did not answer at once. His gaze drifted, burdened with a truth he could not escape. Never had he denied Niel, nor doubted him—but this… this was a path that led only to sorrow.
For he knew his daughter's heart.
It belonged to another.
Aidan.
The name alone carried weight.
Commander of the royal armies, a warrior forged in strength and fire—a man destined for greatness. Garron had long seen in him the makings of a king.
Yet Niel, too, was dear to him. Faithful. Brilliant. The healer who had stood beside the queen in her most fragile hours.
Both men were pillars of his kingdom.
Both were bound to him in loyalty.
And both loved the same woman.
But a heart could not be divided.
At last, the king exhaled slowly, the decision heavy upon his tongue.
"I will speak with the princess."
Yet even as the words left him, he knew the truth they could not change. Airy had already chosen. Long ago, she had turned all others away, her heart given wholly to Aidan.
Niel's hope stood against a fate already written.
With that weight upon his soul, King Garron turned from the chamber.
The palace corridors felt colder than before as he walked, his footsteps echoing like distant thunder against the stone walls. Torches flickered along his path, their flames unsteady—as if even they sensed the burden he carried.
He had faced wars without hesitation. He had judged men, commanded armies, and carried the fate of kingdoms upon his shoulders.
Yet this…
This was a battle he could not win with strength alone.
When he entered the queen's chamber, she was already watching him.
"You've spoken with him," Queen Angelina said softly, her voice calm, though her eyes searched his face.
Garron closed the door behind him, sealing the world away. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, with a quiet breath, he spoke.
"Niel has asked for her hand."
The queen's expression faltered—just for a heartbeat.
"And?" she asked.
Garron shook his head slowly. "He believes it is hope he carries… but it is not. It is a storm." He moved further into the room, his gaze distant. "He loves her. Truly. I have never doubted that."
"Yet you hesitate," she said.
"I do more than hesitate," Garron replied, his voice tightening. "I fear what comes next."
The queen turned slightly, her gaze drifting toward the tall windows where night pressed against the glass.
"Because of Aidan," she said.
"Yes," Garron admitted. "Because of Aidan… and because of her."
Silence settled between them, heavy and knowing.
"She has already chosen," the queen said at last.
Garron nodded. "Long ago. She gave her heart where it will not return easily." His jaw tightened. "If I grant Niel hope, I risk breaking him. If I deny him… I may lose him all the same."
"And if Aidan learns of this?" she asked quietly.
Garron's eyes darkened.
"Then the balance I have fought to keep may shatter entirely."
Beyond the chamber walls, the kingdom slept—unaware of the fragile thread upon which its peace now hung.
Garron exhaled slowly, as though the weight of his crown had never felt heavier.
"I will speak to her at dawn."
But even as he said it, both he and the queen knew—
Dawn would not bring peace.
Only choice.
Queen Angelina stood in silence, her expression calm, though her thoughts moved swiftly beneath the surface.
At last, she spoke.
"My king… the princess is still under our command," she said gently. "We can delay her union with Aidan—for a time. A year, perhaps. In that time… we may guide her. Persuade her to consider Niel."
Garron's gaze sharpened, though he did not interrupt.
"She would not openly defy us," the queen continued. "But we must ask one thing of Niel in return…"
She paused, her voice softening, though her words carried quiet weight.
"He must not fall in love."
For a moment, the chamber fell utterly still.
Then, to her surprise, King Garron let out a quiet breath—almost a laugh, though it held no true amusement.
"In love?" he repeated, a faint, tired smile touching his lips. "That is a battle already lost, my Angelina."
He turned slightly, his eyes distant, as though seeing something far beyond the chamber walls.
"He has already given his heart," Garron said. "He called our daughter his heart in human form."
The queen said nothing.
For in that moment, they both understood—
This was no longer a matter of command, or duty, or even choice.
It was something far more dangerous.
And far more fragile.
Something no crown could ever control.