By the time the sun peeks through the windows the following day, I've been awake for hours. Ethan returned soon after I did yesterday, grief and weariness weighing him down. When he saw me on the floor, he let out a heavy sigh and crouched before me. I didn't flinch as he touched my arm, nor did I meet his gaze.

My gaze had been blank, my eyes hollow. Ethan had touched my cheek, the motion not affecting me. The letter had hollowed me out, left me numb and empty. He'd spoken softly, his words barely more than a whisper. "Do you need anything?"

After the words got no response, he gently gripped my hands and pulled me off the floor. My legs started tingling as I stood for the first time in hours. He'd grabbed my shoulders, steadying me as I began to sway. Soon after that, there was a knock on our door. Gwen answered it, her soft voice filling my ears.

Nicole and Allie walked in a heartbeat later, faces pale and eyes wide. The latter glimpsed my face and immediately came over and took my hands, concern in her eyes. "Lauren? What's wrong?"

When that got no response, she turned to Ethan, fear and worry etched on her face. "Is she okay? What happened?"

Ethan breathed heavily, dragging a hand down his face as he exhaled. "Maybe you should sit down." With his free hand, he gestured to the sitting room, then beyond it to the couch. His eyes flicked to mine as he did so.

I made no indication that I'd heard him, nor did I react when Ethan told my sisters about the letter, their gasps and cries filling the silence that had followed. They stood up and hugged me, silent sobs wracking their bodies. Through it all, I'd remained silent. Emotionless.

It takes everything in me now to drag myself out of the memory. Ethan sleeps deeply beside me, weariness and grief pulling him under soon after we'd gotten in bed. I, on the other hand, am wide awake as I listen to the sounds of the castle waking up outside our door. All I want to do is climb back under the covers and block out the world. But I know I can't. So I settle for the next best thing.

On silent feet, I get dressed and slip out the suite door. Once outside, I clutch the cloak I'd shrugged on tighter around me and flip the hood to cover my face. Nicole and Allie are asleep in the sitting room, too grief-stricken to return to their respective rooms. They didn't stir as I left, the same exhaustion and grief that had Ethan sleeping deeply affecting them as well.

I feel claustrophobic as I make my way out of the castle. I don't realize I'm gasping for air until my chest constricts. Stumbling into the open air, breathing raggedly, I rush to the stables.

Whinnies and neighs greet me as a dozen heads poke out from various stalls, eyeing me curiously. I let out a choked sob as I rush to Fleetfire's stall. Her wide brown eyes regard me curiously as she bumps her muzzle against my shoulder. I all but trip over my feet as I throw open her stall door, sloppily slipping her harness over her head and mounting her in one swift but clumsy movement.

"Ride, girl," I whisper, voice breaking on the last word. She leaps into a gallop before the last word even leaves my mouth. It's not even dawn yet, but strategically-placed torches light a path through the forest surrounding the castle.

Only when her coat becomes slick with sweat and her breathing heavy do I finally pull on the reins, urging her to a stop. I look around, but we're in an unfamiliar part of the forest, trees surrounding us as far as the eye can see.

The letter flashes through my head yet again, bringing much-needed clarity. 'Ethan saw through your title and deep into your soul. He saw all the broken pieces, trauma, and scars, yet he sought you out anyway.' Was my father trying to tell me something? Was there something wrong with me?

I'm staring at nothing, eyes blank, so when I hear faint hoofbeats getting louder, I startle so violently that I yank on Fleetfire's reigns. The mare snorts, agitated as she crab-steps. "Sorry, girl," I whisper as I gather her reins and guide her behind a tree.

Two men appear seconds later, the geldings beneath them breathing heavily, froth flecking their mouths. One of the men is tall with black hair and blue eyes, and my heart slams to a stop as recognition hits me. When I glance at the other man, it takes me a moment to place him. I have to clap a hand over my mouth to muffle the gasp threatening to escape.

The second man's face is stern, eyes squinting in the pale sunlight filtering through the trees. Cropped brown hair reaches just above his ears, and grey eyes frame a wolfish face. My breath comes in strained gasps, and my hands are clutching the reins so tight my knuckles are white.

Even though I haven't seen him in years, I'd know that face anywhere. It haunts my nightmares and waking thoughts—no matter how hard I've tried to forget that part of my past, it has a way of popping up out of the blue. If it hadn't been for the queen and Juliette, I wouldn't have survived in Moonbright. In the back of my mind, I'd had suspicions that the king and my father had conspired with each other—but I'd never expected them to be true.

The king clears his throat and speaks, voice rough and harsh, exactly how I remember it. "I did everything I could, Daniel. I tried my hardest to break Lauren—mind, body, and spirit. And it would have worked had she not married that immature prince. He saw through her title and into her soul. He saw all the broken pieces, trauma, and scars, yet he sought her out anyway."

Tears burn in my eyes, yet I hurriedly blink them away. The embarrassment is only second to the anger burning inside me hearing the king referring to Ethan that way. How dare he say those things? He has no idea how warm and caring he is—to his subjects and his family.

It's precisely what my father had written in the letter—word for word. But how would he know those things about me after not being in my life for 18 years? I want to storm out and confront them both; I clench Fleetfire's reins to quell the temptation. They're not done talking, and I want to hear the rest of their conversation.

When the following words come out of my father's mouth, all the strength leaves my body in a rush. "But it did work, Stephen. According to my spy, she has nightmares almost every night that leave her gasping as she wakes. Her past haunts her present—precisely as I'd intended. That letter I sent her was the trigger. I told her exactly what had made you and Fabian hate her so much.

"The truths I gave her were things that only I could have known, details about her past she hadn't even told her mother or sisters, never mind her husband. Fabian's hatred was caused by jealousy—he'd never had a close relationship with his mother or sister, yet they'd welcomed her in immediately. You, however, were a different story. You weren't just using Lauren—you were breaking her.'"

Fleetfire suddenly startles as a squirrel scampers up a nearby tree. The reins are nearly jerked from my fingers, the leather rubbing the skin of my palms raw. My cheeks are wet with silent tears; my eyes feel heavy and puffy. She pulls at the reins, snorting quietly. I think she can sense my distress.

It's all I can do to keep my grip on the reins. She winds her way through the forest, retracing her steps without me even saying a word. My body feels heavy, an unseen burden weighing me down as it had weeks ago when I'd had that nightmare. When we finally see the castle in the distance, I let out an exhausted whimper.

My quiet sobs are the only sound besides Fleetfire's hooves clacking on the stone walkway. I hear the guards at the front call my name as we approach, yet I don't acknowledge their words. My hands tremble violently, but I somehow manage to let go of Fleetfire's reins as I dismount, handing them to the startled stable hand.

As soon as my feet hit the ground, my knees buckle. The guard steadies me, wrapping my arm around his shoulder. He doesn't say a word as he helps me into the castle nor as we approach our suite. Before the guard even has a chance to raise a fist to knock, the door swings open. Ethan stands before us, his worried eyes taking in the guard's frazzled expression, then flicking to my face.

Ethan's voice swims in and out of my ears as he talks to the guard (whose name I recently learned was Wyatt), his words rushed and low. I hear bits and pieces of their conversation but don't say a word. "She wasn't injured, Your Majesty, nor was her horse." "Thank you for finding her. Please rest and eat something before you go back to your post."

Only when the door shuts behind the guard do I take a deep breath. Ethan grips my hand tightly as he leads me to the sitting room. Meeting his eyes is all it takes for me to break down all over again. Every time I think I'm going to run out of tears, the king's cruel face floats through my head and triggers a new wave.

He doesn't say a word as I cry—he rubs my back in soothing circles, letting me release all of the pent-up anger, sadness, confusion, and grief inside me. When I finally speak, my voice is hoarse from crying. "Why?" It's the only word that can penetrate my grief-addled mind. My chest hitches as I try to take a deep breath.

Ethan's voice is soft when he speaks, barely above a whisper. "I'm here whenever you're ready to talk." I hardly hear him. I don't expect to be able to sleep, but as soon as he slides in beside me, my eyes close.

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