The gates of the palace groaned open, and the King of the Fae returned not in triumph, but in silence.

Rowan crossed the threshold with a measured stride, the echo of iron-shod boots following him through halls that had not seen their king in half a year. His black cloak hung heavy from his shoulders, stiff with dried rain and road dust, the edges singed from dragonfire and stained by battles fought far beyond the borders of his kingdom. Fresh scars traced pale lines across his hands where his gloves no longer hid them, and fatigue settled deep in the sharp angles of his face. Yet nothing in his bearing suggested defeat. He still carried himself like a king, straight-backed, steady, impossible to shake.

Servants froze where they stood. Courtiers lowered their heads. Guards struck their spears against the marble floor in salute.

Rowan barely noticed.

His pale eyes swept the grand entrance, searching every familiar face with growing impatience.

“Where is she?”

The question was quiet, but it carried through the vast hall like a drawn blade.

No greeting. No ceremony. No acknowledgment of the banners raised in his honor or the relieved smiles of those who had believed they might never see him again.

Only one thought had carried him through six relentless months of blood-soaked fields and sleepless nights.

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He had imagined this moment countless times beneath foreign skies. She would be waiting at the top of the palace steps, unable to hide her smile despite every attempt at regal composure. She would throw propriety to the wind and meet him halfway, laughing as he caught her in his arms. He would bury his face in her hair, breathe in the scent of jasmine and cedar, and finally convince himself the war was over.

Instead…

The entrance stood empty.

A strange tightness settled in his chest.

His gaze flicked toward the sweeping staircase, then the gardens beyond the towering windows, then every corridor branching from the hall.

“ Guest? “ he called, louder this time.

The single name echoed through the palace that had never before felt so vast.

Without waiting for an answer, Rowan turned and strode deeper into the palace, urgency replacing the measured pace of a king returning home. Every instinct, every heartbeat, every weary step pulled him toward one person.

He had survived the war.

Now he only needed to find his wife.