I haven’t been to the west tower since visiting the little girl who once occupied it.

In her place now lies a woman. A queen. A mother—perhaps partially even to me.

I set a quick pace across the plush carpet, content to avoid the many curious looks that follow. Servants smile politely; Imperials stare shiftily. Glancing at one of the many windows lining the hall, I attempt to catch of glimpse of my reflection.

Instead, my feet falter. My throat dries. My vision blurs.

I have yet to visit his grave. Yet to force myself to stare at the patch of dirt he’s buried beneath.

The small cemetery stretches beyond the window, tucked against an intimate corner of the castle. Decades of kings, queens, and their lineage have been laid to rest beneath the soft grass. Carved stones sit atop each grave, marking what decaying body lies beneath.

The breath I take is shallow, rattling in my chest.

Several pairs of watchful eyes prickle my skin, and I straighten at the feel. Because I am their king. I am not mad. And I will not cause a scene.

Tearing my eyes from the fresh, upturned dirt that now swallows my father, I quicken my pace down the hall.

Head high. Back straight. Eyes clear.

In the days since my eye-opening conversation with Gail, I’ve visited the willow tree and apologized to Ava for missing her birthday. Hell, I apologized for more than just that. I likely looked every bit the mad king as I mumbled to the roots twining beneath my feet.

That’s when Calum found me, reminded me of those three B’s. At the thought, I bury a hand into my pocket, finding the cool box beneath my fingers. I run the pad of my thumb over the velvet absentmindedly, recalling the much-needed coaching Calum has offered.

“Look the part of the king, even if you don’t quite feel it yet. For the sake of your plan, your people.”

I round the corner, finding an equally packed hall filled with prying eyes. My hand tightens atop the box, finding courage in the three B’s it represents. Blowing out a breath, I stride evenly through the throng of servants and Imperials.

Head high. Back straight. Eyes clear.

I don’t have the chance to wonder whether I look kingly enough before I’m standing beneath the looming stairwell that climbs up to the west tower. This wing of the castle is reserved for the infirmary—otherwise known as isolation.

Steps creak beneath my feet, groaning against my weight. Trekking up the multiple winding stories has me quickly winded.

Damn, am I really this out of shape?

I suppose my lack of endurance shouldn’t be shocking after being holed up in my study for so long. But I’m panting by the time I reach the worn door at the top of the stairs.

My fist lifts, readying to rap my knuckles against the wood.

I hesitate.

There is a reason I have yet to visit the queen. She is my mother in name alone, and I suppose part of me always despised her for not being the woman who died giving birth to me. For not being the woman I so desperately wish I could have met.

But Father loved her greatly, and she him. It is the reason she is so ill in the first place—grief. At least we have those two things in common.

Until I find the courage to face father’s grave, I will sit beside his wife’s deathbed.

I knock. The door swings open.

I’m met with shocked looks from several physicians. They don’t bother asking why I’m here. Only one patient occupies this tower.

Within a matter of seconds, I’m being ushered across the room, passing crisp beds blanketed with dust.

No one has been up here in years.

Even when Kai and I tore each other up in the sparring ring, the injuries were hastily fixed by Eli in our bedrooms. Because this wing of the castle is reserved for the wounds that run far deeper than a Healer can reach.

My eyes trace a particular cot tucked into the corner; its linens folded neatly. I distantly wonder whether Kai has seen that bed without Ava’s body to occupy it.

“Kitt!”

Tearing my eyes from the cot, I find brown ones warm at the sight of me. “Jax,” I say, forcing a smile. “I didn’t know you were up here.”

The grin he returns is far brighter than my own, contrasting against his dark skin. “I didn’t think I would see you here. Or, uh, anywhere.”

I watch the sadness settle onto his features and am desperate to eradicate it. “Sorry about that, J. I’ve been a lot busier than usual.”

He nods, shifting on his gangly limbs. “Yeah, I bet.” Then he throws a glance at the occupied bed behind him. “She’s been asking about you.”

I clear my throat. “Do you come up here often?”

He nods, looking sheepish. “Almost every day. I… I owe it to her. She’s the one who took me in after my parents…”

I nod when he trails off, not needing him to remind me of his parents’ shipwreck on the Shallows. I’m suddenly clearing my throat again, feeling slightly awkward. Something has shifted between us, and it’s left me oddly off-balance.

I suppose that would be my fault. I’m the only one of us who’s changed. The only one who is now king.

“Well,” Jax says slowly, “I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

My hand finds his shoulder when he begins to step away. “Plagues, have you grown an inch every day since I last saw you?”

The joking tone of my voice, the glimpse of the prince he grew up with, has a smile splitting across his face. “Pretty soon I’ll be looking down on you, Kitty.”

“Oh, I hope not,” I say pointedly. “Because then I wouldn’t be able to do this.” I reach forward, hooking an arm around his neck before ruffling his short hair with my free hand.

He laughs in that boyish way I’ve missed. Carefree and wholesome. After finally untangling himself from my arms, he stands before me, beaming. The sight has my chest constricting at the reminder of what things used to be like.

But maybe there is still hope of happiness in the future.

After managing to scruff up my hair, Jax takes several long strides and slips out of the room with a laugh. Shaking my head and smoothing the blond strands atop it, I turn my focus toward the woman already watching me.

Her once sleek, black hair looks dull sprawled atop the white pillow. When I make my way to the edge of her bed, she attempts a weak smile. “Hello, Kitt.”

The voice that escapes her cracked lips is little more than a rasp. Gray eyes roam over me, looking so much like Kai’s. She clears her throat, sounding stronger as she says, “I’ve heard that you haven’t been doing too well recently.”

My smile is sad. “I could say the same about you.”

When I take a seat in the rigid chair beside her, she reaches for my hand, grasping it far tighter than I figured she was able. “Just silly rumors, then, hmm?”

She smiles, and I smile back. “Yes, just rumors.”

Growing suddenly serious, she says softly, “I didn’t think you would come to see me.”

I press my lips together, nodding slightly. “If I’m being honest, I didn’t think I would either.”

“I can’t blame you.” Her smile is sad. “I never made much of an effort to have a relationship with you.” Tears well in her gray eyes. “And for that… I am sorry.”

I swallow, unsure what to say. Thankfully, she’s speaking again before I’m forced to come up with anything. “Plagues, you look so much like him.”

My eyes crash into hers. Reaching up a shaky hand, she brushes a strand of hair from my forehead. “You are exactly what he looked like when I fell in love with him.”

“Really?” I breathe, desperate to learn more of the man I idolized.

“Really.” She laughs, though it sounds pained. “You know, we didn’t like each other very much at the beginning. My father was a trusted adviser to the king, and when your mother passed giving birth to you, I was the easiest option for him. He wasn’t obligated to spend months courting me.” She nods, remembering it all with a slight smile. “I didn’t want to marry him. Truly. It was clear that all he wanted from me was another heir. But something began to blossom between us as time went on. Love. He was different with me. Kind and caring.” Her eyes slowly meet mine. “And now, here I am. Dying because I no longer know how to breathe without him.”

“I know the feeling.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can swallow them. “I know you do,” she whispers. “You loved him very much.”

My voice cracks. “I just want to make him proud.”

She squeezes my hand. “And you will, Kitt. You will rule this kingdom for him. He believed in you, and so do I.”

“Did he?” I whisper pathetically.

She stares at me for a long moment. “He left you letters.” My breath catches, and I hold it as she continues. “Just in case something… happened to him. They are meant to guide you, tell you exactly what he would have wanted for the kingdom. I haven’t read them, obviously, but you should. I believe they are in his bottom desk drawer. Well, your bottom desk drawer.”

I had yet to open any of those compartments for the sake of my sanity. Because it hurt too much seeing a quill he held or a note he scribbled. But now…

“I’ll find them,” I breathe. “Thank you.”

She smiles. “Of course.”

I stand to leave. She coughs. I wince.

“Kitt?”

I turn back toward her frail form. “Yes?”

“Visit me again?” She swallows. “You look so much like him.”

My throat burns.

I nod.