The echo of Gareth's broken sobs followed Arthur and Isolde down the palace corridors, but neither looked back.
Arthur's arm remained possessively around his queen's waist as they walked, her body pressed close to his side.
Now, it simply was.
"The guards heard everything," Isolde murmured, her voice steady. "Word will spread through the palace within the hour."
"Good," Arthur replied. "Let them know exactly where power lies in this kingdom."
Through their bond, he felt Isolde's pulse of approval at his ruthlessness. The woman beside him had evolved too—no longer the careful queen walking political tightropes, but a partner ready to wield power without apology.
They reached the royal chambers in silence, but the moment the doors closed behind them, the careful composure both had maintained shattered like glass.
"Arthur." Isolde's voice broke on his name as she turned in his arms, her hands frantically mapping his face, his shoulders, confirming he was real and whole.
