Rhys stood outside the palace gates for the first time since the night he'd left.
One year had passed. An entire year of healing, growth, therapy, and slowly building a life with Liam.
"You don't have to do this," Liam said beside him. "The lawyers can handle selling it."
"I need to." Rhys looked up at the Gothic structure. "Need to see it without fear. Prove to myself that it's just a building."
They walked inside together.
The palace was exactly as Rhys remembered—beautiful, pristine, empty. But without Pryce's presence, it felt different. Sad, maybe. Like a museum of tragedy.
"Want to see the throne room?" Liam asked.
They walked through familiar halls. Rhys felt ghost-touches of memory but nothing supernatural. Just the weight of history.
In the throne room, Rhys stood where he'd made his choice a year ago.
"Do you regret it?" Liam asked quietly. "Sending him to isolation instead of letting him fade?"
"Sometimes. But mostly I think I did the right thing." Rhys turned to face him. "He needed to face what he'd done. Really face it. Not escape into nonexistence or get rewarded with my eternity."
"Do you think he's changed?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not." Rhys took Liam's hand. "But that's not my responsibility anymore. I did what I needed to do to be free. What he does with his consequences is up to him."
They left the throne room, walked back through the halls toward the exit.
At the front door, Rhys paused. Looked back one last time.
"Goodbye," he said softly. Not to Pryce—who couldn't hear him anyway. But to Elara, to all his past lives, to the girl who'd loved a prince and paid for it across centuries.
"Goodbye," he repeated. "You can rest now. We're both free."
Then he walked out into the sunlight with Liam beside him, and didn't look back.
Later that night, over dinner at their now-shared apartment, Liam pulled out a small box.
"I know I said I'd ask in three months," he said. "But I've been carrying this around for two months and I can't wait any longer."
Rhys's heart stopped. "Liam—"
"It's not a proposal. Not yet." Liam opened the box. Inside was a simple silver bracelet. "It's a promise. That I'm serious about us. That I see a future with you. And when you're ready—if you're ever ready—I'd like that future to be official."
Rhys looked at the bracelet, then at Liam. At this man who'd saved him without making him feel like he needed saving. Who'd let him heal at his own pace. Who'd chosen him every single day without making it feel like a burden.
"Put it on," Rhys said.
Liam did, fastening it around Rhys's wrist.
"Ask me again in a year," Rhys said. "On our two-year anniversary of meeting. If we're still here, still happy, still choosing each other... ask me properly."
"And what will you say?"
Rhys smiled. "Ask me and find out."