RETH
The only day he'd felt even remotely this afraid was the day his father died and he'd realized the mantle was truly his—and that his mother wasn't going to survive to help him.
That night he'd stood alongside the royal sleep platform for the first time, his entire body trembling, barely able to breathe, and he'd wondered if his chest might actually explode.
This was worse.
Because then, he'd known what he must do. He'd even known how to do it. His only fear had been that in grief, he would appear weak—or make a mistake. He'd yearned to not be alone in it. And yet he'd kept himself alone for the very reason that now threatened to jerk the feet out from under his entire life.
Elia.
He couldn't let them do it. He couldn't let her be harmed because of his choices. And he couldn't lose her.
It was an utterly impossible situation and he didn't know what to do. He didn't even know where to begin.
