“The man who is worthy to be king… the only one who can lead this kingdom… is Rhett…”

  The room was so silent that the words echoed across the Great Hall. And for a moment, it felt as if time had frozen. Amara’s heart pounded in her chest, and tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at Rhett. His jaw was clenched, the muscles twitching as he fought to maintain control. His expression was unreadable—except for his eyes. Those pools of hazel burned with a fire that wasn’t his dragon’s, but his own. The sight of it nearly broke her.

  A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd, growing louder as the nobles turned to one another in disbelief. Amara’s trembling hand reached out, brushing lightly against his. She hesitated for only a moment before taking his left hand firmly in hers. To her surprise, he didn’t resist. Perhaps he was too stunned—or too furious—to stop her. Slowly, she lifted his hand and slid the King’s Ring onto his middle finger.

  Scales rippled across his skin, interacting with the ring. Gasps filled the room, and the whispers died away as every eye stared at Rhett, waiting for his reaction. But he said nothing. Rhett stood motionless, glaring at the ring on his finger, as if it were a shackle.

  Sensing the uneasiness in the room, Julian stepped forward. He placed a firm hand on Rhett’s shoulder and raised his son’s left arm high, displaying the ring for all to see.

  “Amara has chosen!” Julian announced, silencing any remaining murmurs. “Rhett Viriou, your dragon prince and Duke of Onlon, has been named King of Sylvaris. May the kingdom prosper under his reign!”

  For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, applause began to break out among the nobles. Hesitant at first, it soon grew into a roaring cheer as glasses of wine were raised in celebration. Yet, not everyone was in a joyous mood. While the crowd cheered, a few nobles began slipping quietly toward the exits.

  “It’s time,” Reece whispered as he leaned close to Emmett. “We must go to Drurus now before Rhett locks you away.”

  Emmett’s head lolled slightly, his face dazed and confused by all the commotion.

  “We’re… going to see Cerys now?” The prince questioned in a hoarse voice.

  “Yes,” Reece nodded, wrapping an arm around Emmett’s shoulders to help him stand. “We need her help.”

  “The throne…” Emmett murmured.

  “That’s right,” Reece encouraged quietly as they tried to slip into the crowd. “The throne. It was meant to be yours before they took it from you.”

  “Emmett?” A voice called out, stopping the two men in their tracks.

  Reece glanced over his shoulder, unsurprised to see Rhett approaching. Despite the excited crowd in the Great Hall, Rhett had noticed his younger brother leaving with the Earl.

  “Are you feeling alright?” Rhett questioned, furrowing his brows as he looked at Emmett’s pale face.

  “He is fine, Your High—” Reece hesitated, catching himself before bowing his head slightly. “I mean, Your Majesty. Emmett has requested to leave.”

  “To rest in his chambers?” Rhett pressed as his younger brother looked to the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

  “He wants to go to Drurus,” Reece answered calmly. The Earl ignored the curious stares of nearby nobles, who undoubtedly strained their ears to catch every word.

  “Drurus?” Rhett echoed with a frown. “Why?”

  Reece opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, Emmett shifted, pushing away from the Earl to stand on his own. Though he was unsteady, he straightened his shoulders and faced Rhett.

  “Because I want to!” Emmett snapped loudly, drawing the attention of more onlookers. “Or are you going to use your new position to keep me trapped here, too?”

  The words struck Rhett like a wall of stone. His lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. He searched Emmett’s face for some hint of understanding, something to grasp onto—but all he saw was bitterness and hurt. The hall suddenly felt suffocating for Rhett. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the unwanted ring pressing into his palm.

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  “Go, then,” he said at last in a low, strained voice. “I won’t stop you.”

  Emmett hesitated, surprised by his brother’s lack of fight. But when Rhett remained silent, Emmett turned back to Reece, who quickly wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. Together, they went toward the doors at the end of the hall.

  Rhett didn’t move. He stood rooted in place, his gaze locked onto his brother’s back. The nobles’ whispers grew louder, but he ignored them all.

  Hurt… Anger… Betrayal…

  The emotions twisted in his chest like a knot. Slowly, he turned his head until his gaze landed on Amara. She stood only a few feet away, staring back at him.

  This was her fault.

  She was the reason Emmett was leaving. She was the reason the ring now felt like an iron cuff on his hand. She was the reason he was king.

  Rhett’s jaw tightened as he fought to contain himself, but the sight of her shattered the last thread of his control. He stormed toward Amara, and without a word, he grabbed her wrist.

  “Rhett!” Amara gasped as he roughly pulled her with him. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re leaving,” he growled, not sparing her a glance as he dragged her toward the side door of the hall.

  Amara struggled to keep up with him, especially with his hand so tight around her wrist. But after a moment, dark green scales formed across his knuckles and palm, loosening his grip just enough that it was no longer painful.

  Careful, Rhett, Silas hissed in his mind. She’s carrying our children! If you are not gentle, you could hurt her or them.

  Rhett’s jaw clenched at his dragon’s words. But in that moment, it didn’t matter if Silas was right. It didn’t matter if their heart and soul fought against what was happening—Rhett’s fury was like wildfire, consuming his thoughts and reasoning.

  He led Amara through the palace halls, ignoring her protests and the occasional stumble in her step until they reached a smaller sitting room. The door slammed shut behind them as Rhett let go of her wrist, stepping back to pace the room.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Amara?” He demanded in a booming voice.

  Amara placed one hand on her stomach, wincing while the other rested on the back of a chair.

  “Rhett, I—”

  “You put that damn ring on my finger,” he cut her off, gesturing at the offending jewelry with a glare. “You made me king, Amara! Me! When you know I didn’t want this!”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “The ring needed to be placed on a dragon.”

  Rhett stopped pacing and turned to face her with fire in his eyes.

  “There are hundreds of dragons across the world! You could have named any one of them king!”

  “That’s not how it works!” She snapped back as her legs trembled beneath her.

  “The hell it isn’t!” He shouted. “You put the stupid ring on a finger, and that’s it! You’re done!”

  Amara opened her mouth, breathing quickly as she tried to keep herself calm.

  “Rhett, you don’t understand—”

  “No, you don’t understand!” He roared loud enough that the room seemed to shake. “You had a choice! I wanted to live a quiet life with you and our children, where I could put you first without worrying about anything or anyone else. But you threw that all away. And for what? Because I’m the closest dragon? Because it’s convenient?”

  Tears brimmed the edges of Amara’s eyes as she slowly lowered herself into a chair.

  “It’s not about convenience,” she whispered. “It’s about who is worthy.”

  The word sent Rhett into a blind rage.

  “Worthy?!” He bellowed. “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t want to be king! Worthy doesn’t matter when I didn’t have a damn choice, Amara!”

  “Rhett…please,” she begged as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  That’s enough, Silas said firmly. Can’t you see she’s in pain?

  Rhett swallowed hard as he finally stopped to look at Amara. Her cheeks were red, her hands trembling against her belly, and tears freely fell from her eyes. He let out a deep breath as he released his fists at his sides. The fire in his chest hadn’t gone out, but the sight of his wife made it difficult to continue to be angry.

  “You don’t understand what you’ve done,” he muttered in a softer tone. “You’ve chained me to this throne, Amara. To a life I never wanted.”

  “I understand that… I understand more of this than you do,” she whispered. “But you’re never going to listen to me, are you?”

  “What’s there to listen to?” Rhett questioned coldly. “There’s nothing you can say that will change anything now.”

  His gaze dropped to his left hand toward the ring she placed there. The sight filled him with another wave of anger. He reached for it in an attempt to yank the ring off, but Silas stirred once more, creating scales that locked the band in place.

  The defiance from his dragon only added to Rhett’s frustration. His hand trembled as he pulled harder, but the ring didn’t budge. With a growl of defeat, he dropped his hand before shifting his anger back to Amara. But instead of unleashing it on her again, he forced himself to turn away.

  “You’ve made your choice, Amara. I hope you’re ready to live with it,” he said bitterly.

  “Rhett, wait!” Amara called out to him desperately. She tried to push herself to her feet, but her swollen ankles wobbled beneath her, and her legs gave out before she could fully stand. He paused in the doorway at hearing her struggle, but he didn’t look back. As Rhett stepped into the corridor, he pointed to a nearby guard.

  “You! Take Amara to her bedchambers and ensure she remains confined until I say otherwise,” he commanded.

  The guard’s eyes widened briefly before he bowed.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “And another thing,” Rhett growled, his tone rising. “She is to receive no visitors. Not her lady-in-waiting, not her sister—no one.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard repeated nervously, glancing briefly toward the room where Amara still called for her husband.