King Ruger was the first to move.
He stepped forward, his large frame filling the doorway as he pushed past Northern—not rudely, but with the desperation of a man who had spent years watching the love of his life wither away. His eyes found the Queen immediately, lying on the bed, and for a heartbeat he froze.
She was breathing.
Not the shallow, rattling gasps that had haunted their chambers for years. Not the fragile whispers of air that seemed to cost her everything. She was breathing—deep, full, her chest rising and falling with an ease that seemed almost impossible.
"Honey?" His voice cracked. The King of Ryugan, a man who had faced beasts and armies and would-be conquerors, sounded like a boy.
The Queen's eyes fluttered open. And then she smiled—not the weak, diplomatic smile she had worn like armor for so long, but something real. Something alive.
"Ruger." Her voice came out clear. Still soft, still thin from years of illness, but clear. "I feel... strange."
