Ophelia had been spending more and more time up in the room with Malthace. She felt more peaceful there than anywhere else—safe from the uncertain world outside the door. Ophelia would talk to her mother, sing, and sometimes read. More often she’d just sit there, gazing at her, as if waiting for her to speak.

But, as the shades of evening drew on, Ophelia knew that Lorelle’s lessons would be drawing to a close. Lorelle—sweet, darling Lorelle—the child who could not be more different than the mother that bore her. Lorelle was stubborn, loud-mouthed, and infinitely clever. Most of the time she used that cleverness for good. Lorelle was a voracious learner that attended closely to her studies. She was bright and curious and looked at the world as if it had been made just for her to explore.

But Lorelle also used her wits for her own devices. She could play her father like a fiddle and reduce her mother to tears with nothing but a few carefully placed words. Lorelle was proving herself to be a natural witch, though the elder who’d been tasked with instructing her had remarked that the young princess was a bit of a know-it-all (though she didn’t use those words—she wouldn’t dare).

Ophelia found herself dreading seeing her child. She loved Lorelle—she did—but her daughter was infinitely exhausting and Ophelia easily exhaustible. She wrung her hands together as she went down to the room where it was said Lorelle was waiting.

Taking a deep breath in the entry, Ophelia opened the door.

“My love, how ha—” Ophelia froze, seeing Akagi waiting with Lorelle at his side. She didn’t move, expression fixed in surprise.

It was all too much.

Ophelia was swallowed up in Akagi’s arms. The feeling of warm familiarity was almost enough to bring her to her knees. She held onto him, clinging to him as if she were a sailor lost at sea. Ophelia started to tremble. When he parted, her hands would still cling to his jacket unless he pried her fingers from it.

Too much. Of everything.

Ophelia couldn’t make her hands move. Couldn’t give voice to the words on her tongue. For a moment, she just stared at him, listening to Lorelle as she bounced happily beneath them. Finally, Ophelia found her voice.

“Lorelle, can you give us a moment, please? There’s a maid outside that can take you for some sweets.” Lorelle would, no doubt, protest. Her father was all she wanted in this world; not cakes or cookies. It would be up to Akagi to settle her. Ophelia just stared.

Ophelia swallowed hard, trying to gather herself before speaking again. She could feel the reservoirs of tears sitting behind her eyes, ready to break into a cascade at any moment. Eventually, she just shook her head against Akagi’s chest before tilting up her chin to look at him. Her wide hazel eyes were like those of a doe caught in a hunter’s sights. There was a red mark on her face from where the witch cursed her on the streets; faint, but visible.

“No.” The whispered word was enough to break the floodgates open, tears falling down her cheeks in rapid succession.

Ophelia felt her chest starting to tighten. Breathing was becoming more difficult, and she found herself longing for the quiet cocoon of her mother’s room. Where nobody asked her questions or needed her to think, say, or do anything. Where there was nothing but silence.

But Akagi was too warm to let go of.

“There was—a woman—” Ophelia choked out, trying to slow her breathing, “In the marketplace. She attacked me. I don’t know why. Cassian has confined me—to the palace. To keep me safe.” Ophelia clung to Akagi a little more tightly.

Ophelia nodded, face pressed against his chest like a frightened child huddling against the storm. Just which question she was answering might be unclear, but the reality was she was answering all of them. Yes, she’d been seen by a physician, and released with nothing but minor bruises and an unsightly blemish on her face. Yes, she was hurting, more than she’d ever thought possible. And yes, yes, she’d like anything that could make it stop.

“I’m—” Ophelia’s breath hitched as she choked back a sob, “So sorry, Akagi.”

“I—” Ophelia looked up at him with eyes as wide as all the ocean; clear but infinite in their depth. She wrapped her thin fingers around the stone, instantly feeling its cool calm wash over her. The tension in her shoulders relaxed as her breath exited her body as if she were to deflate entirely.

“Lorelle…the children…” Ophelia blinked back tears, “They’re too much for me, Akagi. It’s all too much.” She tipped her chin up as it quivered, “I can’t give you more. It’ll kill me, I know it will.” There was a thin paranoia to her voice, stretched like thread ready to break.

“I—I just don’t want—”

To fail.

She choked out the words through wheezing breaths and tears. To be a mother, a future queen, it was all she’d be trained to be. Ophelia had built her entire identity around being loved, first by a kingdom and then by a man. And how he had loved her. He’d loved her patiently, without restraint, with a warmth that so many girls in Nevermere could only dream of.

Ophelia wrapped her arms around him, shoulders slumping in both shame and relief. “I love you, my prince,” She whispered, “Endlessly, I love you.”