Extra Chapter 13 – The King's Protection (POV Rhydian)
The castle had never felt like this before—both sanctuary and cage, fortress and fragile glass.
I had spent my entire life ensuring the safety of my kingdom, learning the weight of power, sharpening my instincts until I could sense a threat before it even took form. I had known war, betrayal, and bloodshed. I had seen men fall beneath my blade and had watched kingdoms burn.
But nothing—not battles, not assassinations, not years of relentless warfare—had ever prepared me for this.
For the fear.
For the unrelenting, suffocating certainty that if I let my guard down for even a moment, I would lose them.
Luna and Aurora.
My wife and daughter.
My world.
I stood on the balcony of our chambers, my gaze fixed on the darkened landscape below. The cliffs stretched endlessly into the horizon, jagged and merciless, while the sea churned in the distance, its waves crashing violently against the rocks. The wind was cold, sharper than usual, and I felt it bite through my shirt, but I didn't move.
I couldn't.
Because if I moved, if I let myself step away from this vantage point, then I might miss something. A shadow in the wrong place. A movement that didn't belong. A threat lingering just beyond the edges of my vision.
I had doubled the guards, stationed sentries at every entrance, every hallway, every possible weakness in the castle's defenses. And yet, it wasn't enough.
Nothing would ever be enough.
"Rhydian."
Her voice was soft, but it anchored me instantly.
I turned to find Luna standing in the doorway, wrapped in a deep blue robe, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. The firelight behind her cast a golden glow against her skin, making her look ethereal, like something out of a dream. In her arms, Aurora stirred, letting out a small, sleepy sigh as she nestled closer to her mother's warmth.
Luna's gaze moved over me, assessing, searching.
"You're still awake," she murmured.
I exhaled through my nose, rubbing a hand over my jaw. "So are you."
She stepped closer, her bare feet soundless against the stone floor. "Aurora woke up." She adjusted the swaddle around our daughter, brushing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "She wanted to be held."
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening at the sight of them—so small, so vulnerable.
Luna stopped beside me, her free hand reaching for mine. Her fingers were warm as they laced through mine, grounding me. "Come back to bed," she whispered.
I shook my head, glancing toward the courtyard below once more. "Not yet."
She followed my gaze, and I knew what she saw—nothing. Just the night stretching endlessly before us, silent and still.
"Rhydian." Her voice was softer now, but there was an edge to it. A quiet plea.
I clenched my jaw. "It's not safe."
She let out a slow breath. "You've increased the guards. You've interrogated every advisor, every servant. You've built walls upon walls to keep us safe. What more can you do?"
"More." My voice came out rough, strained. "There's always more I can do."
Luna studied me for a long moment, and then, without a word, she placed Aurora in my arms.
The weight of her—small and warm, impossibly delicate—hit me like a physical blow.
I tensed instinctively, holding her as if she might break, but she only shifted slightly, her tiny hand curling against my chest, seeking comfort even in sleep.
"You're holding her like she's a weapon," Luna murmured.
I swallowed hard. "She is."
Luna's brows furrowed. "Rhydian—"
"She's my greatest weakness," I admitted, the words thick in my throat. "And that makes her a target."
Luna's expression softened. She reached up, tracing her fingers along my jaw, tilting my face toward hers. "She's also your greatest strength."
I looked down at our daughter, at the way her small breaths warmed the fabric of my shirt, at the way she trusted me so completely, without question.
"Rhydian," Luna continued, her voice gentle but firm. "You have spent your entire life preparing for war, for betrayal. But this? This is not a battlefield."
I let out a slow, measured breath. "It feels like one."
Luna's fingers slid into my hair, her touch light, reassuring. "You have to let yourself believe that we are safe. That we can be happy without waiting for something to take it away."
I wanted to.
Gods, I wanted to.
But how did I silence the instincts carved into my bones? The ones that told me love was a weakness, that happiness was fleeting, that the moment you let your guard down, everything could be ripped away?
Luna's thumb brushed against my cheek, grounding me in the present. "I know it's hard for you," she whispered. "But if you live every moment waiting for a threat, you'll never get to enjoy what we have."
I closed my eyes briefly, letting her words settle.
She was right.
I hated how right she was.
With a slow, careful motion, I sank onto the edge of our bed, still cradling Aurora against me. Luna sat beside me, leaning her head against my shoulder.
We stayed like that for a long time, the three of us.
And for the first time since she had been born, I allowed myself to breathe.