The council chamber was warm, the afternoon sun streaming through the high windows.

Aeron stood at the head of the table, a report in his hand. His voice was steady. His posture was rigid. His face was pale.

Seren watched him from her seat. Something was wrong. She had felt it through the bond for weeks; a dull ache, a creeping fatigue that he refused to acknowledge. But today was different. Today, his hands trembled.

“—and the eastern provinces have requested additional funds for road repairs,” Aeron continued. “I recommend we approve half now and revisit the remainder after the harvest assessment.”

Lord Pemberton nodded. Lady Ashworth frowned. The debate began.

Aeron set down the report. He reached for his water glass. His fingers missed.

The glass shattered on the floor.

“Aeron?” Seren was on her feet.

He turned to her. His eyes were glassy, unfocused. “I’m fine.”

Then he collapsed.

Chaos erupted.

Kael caught him before he hit the ground, lowering him to the stone floor. Theron shouted for the healers. Council members surged to their feet, voices overlapping in panic.

Seren knelt beside him, her hands on his face. “Aeron. Aeron, look at me.”

His eyes fluttered. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re on the floor.”

“The floor is comfortable.”

“Aeron.”

He tried to sit up. Kael pushed him back down. “Stay. The healers are coming.”

“I don’t need—”

“You need.” Kael’s voice was sharp. “You haven’t slept in weeks. I’ve counted.”

Aeron closed his eyes.

Bryn arrived within minutes.

She checked his pulse, his pupils, his breathing. Her face was grim. “Exhaustion. Severe exhaustion. He’s been running on empty for months.”

“I have meetings,” Aeron murmured. “Reports. The kingdom doesn’t stop—”

“The kingdom will stop if its king dies.” Bryn’s voice was flat. “Bed rest. Minimum one week. No council meetings. No reports. No negotiations. Sleep. Eat. Recover.”

Aeron’s jaw tightened. “I don’t have time—”

“You’ll make time.” Seren stood. “Or I’ll tie you to the bed myself.”

Kael snorted. “I’ll help.”

“So will I,” Theron added.

Aeron looked at his brothers, at his wife. “You’re all against me.”

“We’re for you.” Seren knelt again and took his hand. “There’s a difference.”

The bed rest did not go well.

Aeron lasted four hours before he tried to sneak back to the council chamber. Kael caught him in the corridor and carried him back, slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

“Put me down.”

“No.”

“I am the king.”

“You’re an idiot. There’s a difference.”

Theron was waiting in the chambers. “The council has adjourned for the day. Lord Pemberton is handling the trade negotiations. Lady Ashworth is managing the budget. Nothing is on fire.”

“Yet.”

“Yet.” Theron shrugged. “If something catches fire, we’ll handle it. You’re not allowed to leave this room.”

Aeron sat on the edge of the bed, his posture rigid. “I’m not tired.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“I hate all of you.”

“We know.”

Seren found him staring out the window.

The sun was setting. The city was quiet. His reflection in the glass was pale, hollow-eyed.

“You should be sleeping,” she said.

“I should be working.”

She sat on the bed behind him. “Come here.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re a grown man who refuses to take care of himself. Come here.”

He didn’t move.

Seren sighed. She stood, walked to him, and took his hand. She led him to the bed and pushed him down onto the mattress. Then she sat on him.

“Aeron.”

“I’m sitting on you.”

“I can see that.”

“You’re not getting up until you sleep.”

He stared at her. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is love.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then his shoulders sagged.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted. “To stop working. To rest. To think.”

Seren shifted off him and lay beside him, her head on his chest. “Afraid of what?”

“Of him. Our father. The war. Every decision I’ve made that could have gone wrong.” His voice was raw. “When I’m working, I don’t have to think about any of it. The reports, the negotiations, the endless details—they fill the spaces where the memories live.”

“Memories of what?”

“Of his face. When he told me I would never be enough. When he looked at Kael and Theron and saw soldiers, not sons. When he looked at Elowen and saw nothing at all.”

Seren’s throat tightened. “Aeron—”

“I should have protected them. Kael. Theron. Elowen. I was the oldest. I should have stood between them and his cruelty. Instead, I just… survived. I let them survive on their own.”

“You were a child.”

“I was the heir.”

Seren propped herself on her elbow and looked at him.

“Your father was wrong. About you. About your brothers. About Elowen. About everything. You are enough. You have always been enough. You are a good king, a good brother, a good mate.”

His eyes glistened.

“And the decisions you made—the ones that could have gone wrong—they didn’t. You kept the kingdom together. You ended a war. You passed the charter. You opened the institute. You did all of that while carrying the weight of a father who never loved you.”

She touched his face.

“You’re allowed to rest, Aeron. You’re allowed to stop. The kingdom won’t fall. Your brothers won’t falter. I won’t leave.”

He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair.

“Stay,” he whispered.

“Always.”

She lay beside him, her hand in his hair, stroking slowly.

His breathing deepened. His muscles relaxed. The tension that had been coiled in him for months began to unwind.

“I love you,” he murmured, half-asleep.

“I love you too.”

“The kingdom can burn for all I care. As long as you’re here.”

“The kingdom won’t burn. I won’t let it.”

He smiled—a small, exhausted smile. Then his eyes closed.

Seren watched him sleep.

He woke at dawn.

The bed was warm. Seren was still beside him, her hand on his chest. He had slept for twelve hours…the longest stretch in months.