Sebastian’s voice broke through the turbulence of my mind. “We’ll land in an hour,” he reassured, his hand enveloping mine as our royal jet ascended into the heavens. Below us, the Mediterranean shimmered like a thousand sapphires, the warm browns of our destination fading into the distance. I nodded, though it felt more like a reflex than a promise. Less than fifteen minutes had passed since we were thrust out of the door, but my heart raced ceaselessly, fueled by the anxiety that had gripped me the moment his phone rang. My dad had fallen, shattering his wrist in the process. It was compounded by the cough that had racked his frail body before he lost his balance. Rowan had called with a steady voice, reassuring me that the doctors deemed it merely a cold, but that didn’t soothe my restless nerves. I needed answers. I wanted to hear from the medical team confronting the storm my dad raged within—his dementia igniting his agitation and making him combative, a chaotic dance that would surely intensify now that pain gripped him. “I shouldn’t have left him,” I murmured, the guilt churning inside me like a storm cloud. “Don’t do that,” Sebastian said softly, squeezing my hand and pulling me closer. “He was improving before we left. He has caregivers watching over him constantly. You deserve this break, Bellamy. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. He would have taken a tumble regardless of where you were.” “Maybe,” I replied, my gaze fixed out the small oval window, longing for home even though we were just leaving. “I just hate that I wasn’t there for him.” “I understand,” Sebastian turned to meet my eyes, his depth of care shining through. “But you’ll be with him soon, and he’s in good hands. That's why we kept our honeymoon close.” The weight of his words made me shift gears in my brain as I absorbed his compassion. “I’m sorry we had to cut our honeymoon short.” He brushed his fingers tenderly along my cheek. “Bellamy, we’ll create a lifetime of vacations together. Your father’s comfort comes first.” “Sebastian, he’s more than just sick. I’m not just talking about the cold. Each day, he slips farther away from me. And now this injury. He won’t comprehend that he’s hurt. He won’t understand he must take it easy. If he becomes agitated, I hate to say it, but I wouldn’t want the kids around him. It's not safe, and I just can’t bear the thought of them having those memories.” “I know,” he said, his tone serious yet calming. “But let’s hold off on crucial decisions until we see him ourselves. Besides, he’s surrounded by professionals.” He toyed with my hair, then brushed his lips against mine, a fleeting but electrifying connection. “You look incredibly beautiful when you’re worried about our children.” “I’m always worried about them.” Even as warmth bloomed in my chest at the thought of his words—“our children”—I sensed something deeper in his voice. A tension, a flicker of concern I noticed when he was on the phone with Rowan. “What aren’t you telling me?” His expression faltered, a frown forming on his lips as he let out a heavy breath. “There’s been movement on Desta.” My heart raced. “Movement? What does that mean?” I gripped his hand tighter, memories flooding back. Desta was the infant who had been kidnapped years ago, a tragedy that had reshaped both our lives. Sebastian’s father had perished trying to protect her, leaving Sebastian to wear the crown far too soon. Although he and Rowan had tirelessly searched for her, the quest had always felt hopeless. “The police were called to a house on the southern Italian border of Messalina. Apparently, there was a rundown cottage where teenagers had gathered to party. When they raided the home, a blanket was found.” “A blanket?” I echoed, brows knitted together. “It’s Desta’s baby blanket. It’s… well, it’s infamous now, at least in the circles we spread information about her disappearance. The description we shared was widely known, and Rowan confirmed it’s identical. It’s been sent to a lab for DNA testing.” I was rendered speechless, shock freezing me momentarily. “Oh my God, Sebastian.” Tremors ran through me. “But no woman was found, right? Just the blanket?” His icy blue eyes held a fiery intensity. “Just the blanket. But we’ve deployed a team to investigate the cottage for clues. The press has caught wind of this, but I want to keep our involvement under wraps until we have clarity. We need to understand whether this is the breakthrough we’ve been hoping for, or yet another dead end. Desta's remains were never located. There exists a chance she’s still alive.” Astounded, I leaned back against my seat, thoughts swirling. “When will you know if it's her blanket?” “It is her blanket,” he asserted, unwavering. “It absolutely has to be. Our family crest marks it in gold and silk. It’s not something anyone would dare recreate, especially after she went missing with it.” Clearing his throat, he guided our joined hands to his lap, drawing my focus back to him. “Rowan is struggling.” “How do you mean?” “His search for Desta is unrelenting; he’s dedicated himself more than anyone else. Rowan was only twelve when he awoke our father during the intrusion instead of alerting the guards. Ever since, he’s blamed himself for our father's death, along with Desta's abduction.” My heart sank for him. “Poor Rowan. I had no idea.” “Only the three of us carry that burden. But she has been absent from our lives for far too long. This could lead us nowhere.” “Or it could be the beginning of finally uncovering the truth,” I said, glimmering hope flickering inside me. “I can’t help but wish it is.” His lips brushed mine softly, igniting a warmth that masked my worry, but then he deepened the kiss, exploring as I pulled away. “Enough, Your Majesty; I’m too worked up for that right now.” He smirked, trailing his lips along mine teasingly. “I like you worked up.” “Not that kind of worked up. I’m on edge, and it unsettles me.” Sebastian gathered me close, his arms enveloping me in a cocoon of security. “I can sense that, my queen. But rest assured, your father is in capable hands and he will be alright.” Doubt clawed at my insides. My father’s injury was one piece of the puzzle, but this new development regarding the blanket felt too ominous to ignore. I never believed in curses, but an unsettling feeling crawled beneath my skin, a sense of impending doom amplifying my anxiety. I had to push through it—the notion that something was lurking beyond the surface, ready to strike. I had been levelheaded in crisis before, compartmentalizing my fears, facing challenges head-on. That strength had always served me well, and now I had to summon it again. “What’s your next appointment?” Sebastian interrupted my spiral of thoughts, shifting the focus as we began our descent. I was eager to find out what awaited me back home, excited for the embrace of the children, Althea’s warmth, Rowan’s presence. “Two weeks from now. There’s an ultrasound and some blood work scheduled. Despite my youth, they’re doing genetic screenings at this stage in my pregnancy.” I paused, uncertain. “I don’t want to know their gender.” “Really?” he replied, surprised. I knew he had been eager for that information. “I want it to be a surprise. It feels like a special moment we’ll only get to experience once.” “What about the nursery?” “We can keep it gender-neutral for now and customize it later, if we choose.” With a playful glimmer, he tangled his fingers in my long dark hair and captured my lips again. His kiss was laced with passion, a tangible promise. “I've had three children, and I knew their genders each time. But this is your first, and I want it to be everything you've dreamed of. We’ll wait for the surprise.” “Thank you.” Gratitude washed over me as I turned to gaze out. The landscape of Messalina grew larger, the snow-capped peaks echoing the winter we had left behind. “Come here.” Sebastian drew me close once again, wrapping his arm around me, holding me against him. “Je t’aime. C’est pour toujours. Tu m’as libéré.” His words danced through my heart like a soothing lullaby. They were the same words he had whispered to me when he first professed his love. From the gruff beast he had been, he had transformed into a wonderful partner, one whose heart was a tapestry of nuances I was still discovering. He offered me a sanctuary, making me feel cherished and secure, his touch electric yet calming. I relished the incredible warmth radiating between us, allowing it to soothe my frayed nerves. Sebastian also wrestled with his thoughts, though he wore the mask of a perfect king. The new revelations had shaken him, as they should. I could only hope this journey would guide him and Rowan toward healing rather than despair. As the jet touched down, anticipation filled the air. Less than ten minutes later, we passed through the grand iron gates and into the tangled greenery of the palace grounds. The day was splendid. A canvas of pale blue stretched overhead, cool yet inviting, and the magnificent palace stood as a sentinel against the majestic Alps. As soon as my feet touched the gravel driveway, the palace doors burst open, and three little figures came dashing toward us. Phaedra led the charge, her sisters Sabrina and tiny Zayer close on her heels. Even at his tender age, Zayer already bore the promise of his father’s stature. I crouched down, arms wide open, and immediately felt the weight of three young bodies launching into my embrace. “Queen! Princess! My little prince! I’ve missed you all so terribly,” I exclaimed, showering them with hugs and kisses. “Gentle with Bellamy’s belly,” Sebastian chimed in, and I playfully retaliated by sticking out my tongue, making Phaedra giggle. “Don’t ruin my squeezes,” I pleaded. “As if you haven’t hogged them long enough?” he quipped, tossing Zayer into the air, only to grasp him again, all while lavishing the girls with affection. The warmth spread through me, a beacon of happiness illuminating my heart. His love for his children had always been a lifeline for him, grounding him through years of turmoil. “We missed you,” he said, enveloping each child in loving embraces. The way he spoke—“we”—filled me with joy, for now I was considered part of their family in a way that transcended mere titles. Just six days had passed since our wedding, and before that, I had only been their nanny. Yet now, officially their stepmother, there was no division. “Papa!” Phaedra called out, her voice brimming with excitement. “It’s Friday! Can we cook dinner and watch a movie like we always do?” When I exchanged looks with Sebastian, Althea and Rowan emerged from the palace, their expressions serious and tense. “Of course, darlings,” I replied, forcing a smile despite the turmoil inside. “But first, I need to check on my father.” “Grandpapa fell,” Sabrina said, eyes wide with sympathy. “He got hurt. Phaedra says it's a broken bone, and that’s why he has the plaster on his arm.” “I know, sweetie. But don’t worry. His wrist will heal, and he’ll be better soon.” I hoped. As I stood, Althea enveloped me in her warm embrace, prompting an emotional surge. “You’re going to make me cry,” I whispered, battling my own overwhelming feelings. “He’s okay,” Althea reassured softly. “The doctors have him sedated for now since he’s tried to tear off his cast. But, thankfully, he doesn’t need surgery.” “That’s a relief,” I replied as I caught sight of Sebastian and Rowan speaking in low, urgent tones off to the side. “Did something else happen?” I muttered to Althea. Her grave expression intensified. “They found the pajamas Princess Desta was taken in. With blood on them.” My breath caught in my throat, and I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle the gasp. “Oh God, that’s awful.” Sebastian hoisted both girls into his arms, one resting on each hip. “Come on now. Let’s head inside. It’s chilly out here, and I want to hear all about the trouble you’ve caused while we’ve been away. And don’t bother lying, Sabrina—I know trouble is your middle name.” The girls erupted into stories, excitement bubbling. I lifted Zayer, who tucked into my side as we all made our way into the inviting warmth of the palace. “Do they know if it’s her blood?” I whispered to Althea, concern lacing my voice. She shook her head. “No. They just discovered it beneath the mattress of a broken crib. This cottage…” She shuddered, shaking her head again. “Mon dieu. It’s a wreck. But it's becoming clear this is where Desta was first taken after her abduction.” “Althea…” I trailed off, unable to finish my thought. “Rowan isn’t handling this well, and I sense Sebastian won’t either.” “No. I can imagine how difficult this is for him.” Emily and Javier, the head of security, greeted us in the main parlor, exchanging warm hellos. Yet, I was anxious to see my father and Emily could see it written on my face. “Let me take Zayer for you,” she offered. “Thank you!” I planted a kiss on Zayer’s head before setting him down. He accepted Emily’s hand, and I dashed up the stone steps leading to the guest wing where my father resided. Outside his room stood a doctor in scrubs, leaning against the wall, her phone pressed to her ear. When she spotted me approaching, she quickly hung up and moved to intercept me. “Your Majesty,” she said with a curtsy, a formality I wasn’t used to. I was an American, and now I was the queen of Messalina. I extended my hand. “Hi. I’m Bellamy.” She blinked, momentarily taken aback, before regaining composure. “I’m Dr. Leigh, but call me Jocelyn. I’m overseeing your father’s case from an orthopedic standpoint. I’m working closely with his regular neurologist, Dr. Franks.” “How is my father?” I demanded, bypassing pleasantries. “He’s…comfortable,” she eventually replied after a pause. “He’s been quite disoriented and combative; confusion is natural given his condition, especially after a significant episode. The cold he has isn’t helping.” “How long will he need to be sedated?” She shifted again, revealing the weight of her answers. “It’s hard to say. We prefer not to sedate for extended periods, as medication complicates cognitive functioning. We’re hopeful we can find a light sedation that calms him while keeping him alert.” A lump formed in my throat, but I nodded resolutely. “I just want him as comfortable as possible. I know he’s slipping away, and I've accepted that, but…” I let out a sigh, staring at the ceiling as tears prickled my eyes. “I’m not ready for the next phase of this.” Her hand gently gripped my shoulder, grounding me. “No one is. He’s your father. I watched my own struggle for years. It’s never easy. But what I can tell you is that your expectations are reasonable. We can ensure he’s comfortable and mellow, but that’s about all we can offer.” “Thank you for your honesty,” I said, my voice choked with gratitude. “May I see him?” “Of course.” She smiled softly, stepping aside to allow me access to my father’s room. As I turned the knob, I was instantly struck by the warmth that enveloped the room, far too hot for the old stone walls of the palace. My father lay asleep, a white cast on his left hand, stretching to his wrist and forearm. Thank goodness, it wasn’t his dominant hand. He looked so serene in this moment that for a fleeting second, I envisioned him merely resting, as he had so often after my mother died when we were traveling through Europe, seeking solace amidst our chaotic lives. It had just been the two of us, navigating tiny apartments, grappling with grief and the unknown. I had yearned for stability and normalcy, but my father had shunned it, running scared from anything that could remind him of her absence. It wasn’t until I was seventeen and ready for university that I’d picked Messalina for our fresh start. Now here we were, worlds apart from where we began. I perched on the edge of his bed and took his hand, my heart sinking at how icy it felt even in the stifling warmth of the room. “I love you, Dad. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.” The words spilled out, and in that moment, I glanced at my small bump—the world didn't know about it yet. “I can’t wait for you to meet your new grandchildren. Picture that joy! We just need to get through this, and then everything will be alright again.” It was a wish wrapped in hope, a prayer cast into the ether, spoken desperately from my heart. Just then, the door creaked, and I turned to see Sebastian framed in the doorway, his expression rigid. He looked unwell, worry lines etched on his face, his pallor betraying an uneasiness I couldn’t shake. The intensity of my prayer deepened—please, let him find solace, let both of my pleas be answered without leaving us drowning in despair.