I awaken in a dreamlike haze, the remnants of last night still buzzing through my veins—a delicious tremor coursing through my thighs and a flutter of joy arresting my heart. Oh, last night—how do I even begin to describe it? It was a tempest of passion, a tide of intimacy so profound that it could only be shared with someone you trust, someone you love. The lingering sparks of that electric connection embrace me for a fleeting moment, but the weight of reality swiftly crashes in, and my heart plummets. It’s still dark, the first vestiges of dawn yet to pierce the sky, but sleep eludes me. I know I need to move, to steal away from the warmth of the bed. Sebastian lies beside me in a deep slumber, blissfully unaware, and I decide against waking him. He has lived through his own turmoil, and the gift of extra sleep is a precious respite. I make my way to the shower, invigorating the flickering excitement within me. As the water cascades over my skin, thoughts swirl in my mind—my father, the children, and the winter carnival just outside Tourin that Phaedra mentioned. We had skipped the autumn festival, and I am determined to create joyful memories now. Sebastian may balk at the idea—he always does—but if he believes the curse has been lifted and we bring along trusted security, then there is no good reason to deny the children this experience. After dressing in a cozy sweater and jeans, I run a brush through my hair, add a hint of makeup, and prepare for the day. My heart quickens as I think of my father, eager to see him. Steeling myself, I tiptoe out of the room, careful not to disturb Sebastian, who deserves his rest. As I enter my father’s suite, a heaviness blankets the air, the space dark and still. He lies there, as though enveloped in deep slumber, his body relaxed but unresponsive. With a heart full of hope, I drop into the chair beside him, taking his cold hand in mine, wishing it would warm at my touch. I begin to speak, a steady stream of words spilling forth: stories of my honeymoon, updates on the children, the joyful anticipation of my pregnancy. I had told Sebastian I didn’t want to know the gender of the twins, yet in this moment, all I want is to share that information with my father—to talk of names, to dream together, even if he cannot hear me. Moments later, my phone buzzes quietly in my pocket, and I pull it out to reveal a message from Sebastian: “Do you want me to have breakfast sent up for you?” I can’t help but smile; that man! He has transformed so much since our first summer together. I find myself letting out a soft, amused laugh—last summer feels like a distant memory. Alas, I cannot linger here all day, and regretfully, I perchance wish my father would wake. Just to assure me that he is alright. With a heavy heart, I send a quick reply: “No thank you. I’m on my way down now.” I lean in and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead, whispering an affectionate “I love you” before stepping into the corridor, where I find the nurse and his aide deep in conversation. “Good morning,” I greet them in French, as they don’t speak a word of English. “Could you please let me know when he wakes up? I would love to hear how he’s doing.” “Of course, Your Majesty,” they assure me, and I offer them a weak smile before heading down to the breakfast room. The atmosphere there is bustling, vibrant. All three children scurry about, racing each other in joyous abandon, while Althea scrolls her phone, nursing her coffee. Rowan and Sebastian stand by the buffet, deep in conversation. “You missed yoga,” Althea calls out, not bothering to divert her gaze from her phone. “How’s your father doing?” I shrug, piling food onto my plate. I could eat a mountain right now; hormonal swings and an insatiable appetite accompany this pregnancy. “He hasn’t woken up yet. Whatever they gave him has him out cold. I’ve asked them to call or text when he wakes." Althea nods. “Good. Now come sit! I want to hear everything about Caleria. It’s been ages since I visited the island.” But before I can respond, Sebastian swoops in and kisses me softly on the lips. Like clockwork, the girls plead with him, drawing attention to their desire to go to the winter festival. “Absolutely not,” he counters swiftly, confidence lacing his voice. “But Papa!” Sabrina protests, taking her seat in front of her plate with a sigh. “We really want to go. Scaredy-cat Phaedra is missing all the fun!” “Oh, but why can’t we?” Phaedra pipes up, settling beside her sister while Zayer attempts to climb into my lap. “The curse is gone now!” Silence descends in the room, heavy and palpable. I take a moment to formulate my response. “I would like to go as well,” I declare, injecting my support into the children’s plea. I carefully balance respect for Sebastian’s authority with my desire to nurture their happiness. “Yes, it sounds like a delightful outing,” Althea adds playfully. “Especially since you two gentlemen seem to have plans this afternoon.” My brow creases at her veiled comment, and I turn to Sebastian, searching for answers in his ever-calm demeanor. His dismissive grunt hints at displeasure, and all at once, I sense there’s something deeper, something he wishes to keep from me and the children. “If you decide to go,” he relents, “you’ll need to bring royal attendants with you. One for each.” A pout emerges on Phaedra's face. “But Papa, they make us stand out! More than we already do.” “I’ll ensure they wear civilian clothes and maintain discreet distance,” I chime in, supportive yet firm, “but if that’s the condition necessary for the outing, I’ll comply.” Sabrina’s mouth opens to protest, but Rowan interjects, his trademark charm taking hold. “My dearest treasures, they have hot chocolate bombs at the festival, and they are utterly divine! Would you be my gallant heroes and fetch some for me?” Curiosity piques Sabrina. “Hot chocolate bombs?” “Oh!” Rowan sweeps her into his arms, plopping her back down onto his lap. “Eat your breakfast, and I’ll tell you all the details!” As breakfast continues, Rowan regales the children with tales of the festival, while I attempt to make sense of the charged atmosphere surrounding Sebastian. I sneak a piece of bread and toss it at him, and he catches it on his forehead, drawing laughter from the table. “Are you trying to start a food war?” he retorts. “I meant a food fight, and no, that’s not my aim. Food is too valuable to me right now, but I would like to know what you aren’t telling me,” I counter, but the distraction of the children amid their jovial breakfast makes it hard for him to maintain that facade. With a sigh, he throws a glance at Althea that conveys a multitude of unspoken words. “Fine. I’ll tell you. But later.” Yet “later” never seems to arrive. After breakfast, the girls drag me upstairs to prepare for our adventure. I’m swept up in their infectious excitement as we bundle up and pile into one of the grand SUVs. “I overheard Sebastian and Rowan were going somewhere,” I lean toward Althea and whisper, curious. “Ugh, clearly I wasn’t supposed to say anything; but since they will tell you later themselves, they found a diamond from Desta’s tiara.” Her gaze narrows as she explains further about the diamond and the tiara, revealing that the men are taking a trip to the tower where royal jewels have been safeguarded since the medieval era. “What are they looking for?” I ask, my heart clenching. “Desta’s tiara and any other missing items. You wear the first item from there since the king passed,” she informs me, glancing at the diamond heart suspended from my neck—a gift from Sebastian. “Oh,” is all I manage, feeling the weight of her words settling upon my shoulders. “Did Nora wear anything from the collection?” “A family heirloom as a tiara and her mother’s diamond earrings during their wedding, but nothing else—no necklaces or additional jewels.” I feel a swell of contemplation take root. “Does Messalina have a vast collection?” “Her collection is vast and rivaling that of England, featuring some extraordinarily rare and expensive pieces. Desta’s tiara should never have been at the palace that night. My sister tries to brush it off, claiming grief made her forget it was there.” “Isn’t that difficult to believe?” “We’re unsure what to believe, truth be told. The tower seems the ideal place to start our search.” I choose to drop the subject for now—it’s all becoming far more tangled than I anticipated. When we finally arrive at the festival, my excitement blossoms anew. Lush grounds line the edge of Tourin, the river glistening nearby. It’s a Saturday, and the air is thick with excitement, people bustling around. Though the cold bites at our skin, the brilliant sun casts warmth upon our faces, the perfect illusion on this crisp day. Upon entering, our presence is noted; a few waves and cheers erupt, but no one dares approach us. They must understand the boundaries of decorum or simply be aware of the guards flanking us. I take comfort in the anonymity we can share while allowing our children the joys of unrestrained fun. Zayer squeals with glee as we make our way to the carousel—a twinkling spectacle he absolutely adores. Following that, we tackle the pirate ship, the Ferris wheel, and soon the girls' chatter ignites a debate over a rollercoaster. Sabrina, the daredevil, urges us onward, while Phaedra hesitates, voicing her concerns. Alas, I cannot partake, my condition rendering me a bystander, and Althea declares herself too mature for such rides. Ultimately, Phaedra relents, and delight floods the air as they ride the rollercoaster not once, but twice. By the time we reach the food stalls, my hunger has skyrocketed. I opt for a cheese-laden baguette while nestled on a picnic bench, the girls claiming they’re not hungry yet—I suspect they're saving room for those hot chocolate bombs. I instruct them to stay close while Althea, Zayer, and I devour our late lunches. Not even ten minutes pass when they rush back, urgency in their voices. “We should go!” Sabrina insists. “Yes, it’s getting late!” Phaedra agrees. “Getting late? Who are you two, and what have you done with my fierce queen and legendary princess?” “We’re just tired,” they say in a near symphony, and honestly, my own fatigue is creeping in. I could use a nap after waking early and hardly catching enough sleep last night. “Alright, but we must grab your uncle those chocolate bombs.” They eagerly agree, and soon we find ourselves carrying dozens of decadent hot chocolate bombs, their warmth and sweetness a balm against the chill. As we pile back into the SUV, exhaustion washes over me, and I drift into sleep during our twenty-minute drive. The abrupt stop jolts me awake, and as we disembark, the girls dash to their room without a second glance. Just then, my father’s aide emerges from the palace, urgently greeting me. “Your Majesty, he’s awake.” A surge of relief courses through me; I leave Zayer with Althea as I race upstairs, my heart pounding with anticipation. Yet when I arrive, I find my father seated in a chair, lost in the glow of a streaming movie. “Dad?” My voice is soft, hesitant as I approach him. He blinks, staring at me blankly, before turning back to the screen as though I were a figment of his imagination. Despair unfurls in my chest; I try again, “Dad?” “This is my favorite movie,” he replies, barely noticing my presence. As I settle near him, I spot the towel draped over his cast, and my heart aches anew. “What’s it about?” “It’s that one we watched on our first date.” A smile breaks across my face; memories rush back, cherished memories with laughter, warmth, and love. I reach out to touch him, savoring the moment as he confuses me for my mother, yet in this haze of confusion, I hold on. “Can I watch with you for a while?” I ask gently. Silence hangs in the air before he finally mutters, “Where’s Amy?” The nickname only he uses sends a tremor of nostalgia through me, and the tears spill from my eyes. “I’m here, Dad,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion, but the moment slips as he sneers, “Tourin? Where the hell is that?” Panic kicks in, the agitation rolling off him like a wave, and I recognize I don’t have long left in this moment. I sit with him, watching the movie as the nurse appears, carrying his supper. “Goodbye, Dad,” I murmur, my heart sinking as I depart. As I make my way down the second floor, possibly toward my room to change before dinner, a high-pitched sound echoes, followed by the frenetic screams of the girls. My heart races. What on earth is happening?