The room was too quiet.
For a long moment, I just sat there, clutching the blanket to my chest, staring at the door Adam had disappeared through. My heart was still racing, my cheeks still burning, my cousin's words circling my head like overeager birds.
At least you look happy.
Did I?
Behind me, Axel shifted with a low, sleepy groan. "Why," he muttered into the pillow, "does your family sound like a marching band at dawn?"
I twisted around so fast I nearly pulled a muscle.
He was awake now. Actually awake. Hair a dark, mussed halo against the white pillow, lashes still clumped with sleep, mouth curved in the faintest hint of confused annoyance.
And his arm was still around my waist.
I stared at him.
He blinked up at me, brows knitting. "Rome?" His voice was rough, hoarse from sleep. "Why are you looking at me like I personally burned down your favorite garden?"
"You were cuddling me," I blurted.
A beat.
He squinted. "That's the crime of the morning?"
"Adam was here," I hissed.
That woke him up.
He rolled onto his back, arm finally loosening from my waist, then pushed himself up on his elbows. "Adam," he repeated. "As in Adam-who-lives-three-kingdoms-away Adam?"
"Yes," I said. "As in Adam, the one person who could embarrass me into early death, standing right there—" I jabbed a finger toward the space by the bed "—while you were asleep and holding me like a human pillow."
His eyes widened. "He saw us?"
"He announced it," I snapped. "'I find you in bed with a man,' in case the walls missed it."
Axel winced. "Well. That's…not subtle."
"He's never been subtle," I muttered. "He's also furious I didn't invite him to the wedding, convinced he's been betrayed, and very determined to meet 'this man'—" I mimicked Adam's disdainful tone "—which would be you."
Axel scrubbed a hand over his face. "Perfect. I always wanted my first introduction to your favorite cousin to involve bed hair and partial nudity."
I became painfully aware that the blanket was all that separated me from that "partial nudity" situation.
Heat climbed up my neck again.
"Don't," I warned, tightening my grip on the covers when his gaze flicked toward my bare shoulder. "I am hanging onto my dignity by a thread."
"I wasn't going to say anything," he said quickly. Then, because he's Axel: "Yet."
I glared.
He sighed, shoulders loosening. "So. Adam is here. Early. Uninvited. And now he thinks I corrupted his innocent little cousin."
"I told him I killed three rebels in my own hallway," I said.
"Of course you did," Axel murmured. "You really know how to soothe terrified relatives."
"I panicked," I said.
He smiled faintly. "Did he…seem like the type who carries weapons into diplomatic visits?"
"Yes," I said honestly.
"Good," Axel replied. "Then we'll get along."
I groaned and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the canopy.
"You cannot be serious," I said. "Adam will eat you alive."
"Please," Axel scoffed, lying back beside me. Our shoulders brushed. "I survived my mother."
"She's terrifying," I agreed. "But Adam is…different."
"In what way?" he asked.
"In the way that he still thinks I'm twelve," I muttered. "He's older. He helped raise me. Taught me to fight. Threatened to gut any man who looked at me for longer than a heartbeat." I rubbed my forehead. "He's going to see you and have an aneurysm."
"Your faith in my charm is inspiring," Axel said dryly.
I turned my head to look at him.
"Okay," I said. "Charm him, then. Impress him. I dare you."
He blinked.
"Is that a challenge?" he asked.
"You have three options," I said, holding up fingers. "One: avoid him entirely and prove him right about cowards from Darkstorm. Two: posture at him and end up in a swordfight in my breakfast room."
He looked mildly intrigued at that.
"Or three," I continued firmly, "you talk to him like a civil human and convince him not to stab you in your sleep."
Axel sighed.
"Fine," he said. "Option three. For now."
"For now?" I repeated.
"Contingency plans, Princess," he said. "If he tries to duel me, I reserve the right to enjoy it a little."
I snorted.
Then reality sank back in.
"I need to get dressed," I muttered. "Preferably before my cousin comes back with a lecture and a sword."
"Right," Axel said quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll, ah, vacate."
He stood, bare torso and rumpled hair and all, and reached for the shirt draped over a nearby chair.
"Axel," I said.
He paused, halfway through pulling it on. "Yes?"
"You, um…" I gestured vaguely at him. "You look like you lost a battle with the sheets."
He glanced down at himself, then at me.
"Is that your delicate way of saying I look like I had a very good night?" he asked, eyes gleaming.
"Get out," I said, throwing a pillow at him.
He dodged it easily, laughing under his breath, and headed toward the door.
Hand on the handle, he glanced back.
"Rome?"
"What?" I asked.
His gaze softened.
"At least you look happy," he said quietly, echoing Adam's words—only gentler, without the sting.
The breath caught in my throat.
"Don't get used to it," I managed.
"Too late," he replied, and slipped out.
I lay there for one more heartbeat, trying to steady myself.
Then I dragged in a breath, threw off the blanket, and went to face the day.
By the time I made it to the breakfast room, the palace was already humming.
Servants hurried through the corridors with trays and linens. Guards stood a little straighter, tension buzzing faintly in the air like a storm about to break. Word of Adam's arrival traveled faster than any herald.
Of course it did.
He never did anything quietly.
I paused outside the carved double doors, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from my dress. I'd chosen blue this morning, Iris sky-color, soft and deceptively calm. My tiara sat properly on my head; my mother's necklace rested at my throat.
On the inside, I felt like a girl about to referee a duel.
"Breathe," I muttered to myself. "You've done worse."
Have I?
I pushed the door open.
The breakfast room was full.
My parents sat at one end of the long table; King Darius and Queen Lucia at the other. A handful of advisors I didn't like but had to tolerate hovered near the walls, pretending to admire the paintings while eavesdropping shamelessly.
Adam lounged halfway down the table with a plate piled high, eating like he hadn't seen food in a year. He was in travel leathers, dust still clinging to his boots, curls a wild mess.
He looked perfectly at home.
Axel, of course, had chosen a chair directly across from him.
Of course he had.
He wore simple black this morning—no embroidery, no ceremonial nonsense. Just a well-cut shirt, dark trousers, and the faintest hint of mischief tugging at his mouth.
Both of them looked up as I entered.
For a heartbeat, no one said anything.
Then Adam let out a low whistle.
"Look who finally rolled out of bed," he announced. "Princess 'I-Forgot-to-Invite-My-Own-Family' herself."
"Adam," my mother said warningly, though her lips twitched.
I walked forward, spine straight, pretending my heart wasn't trying to hammer its way out of my ribs.
"Good morning," I said, because I was trying to be a civilized royal and not a feral garden creature.
"Morning, mi amor," my father said warmly.
Lucia inclined her head in a cool nod; Darius managed a small smile.
Axel's gaze slid over me in a quick, assessing sweep—checking for cracks, I realized. For signs that I was rattled.
He must not have found any he didn't expect, because his shoulders eased a fraction.
Adam shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth, swallowed, then jabbed that same fork in Axel's direction.
"So," he said. "This is the husband."
"Husband-to-be," Lucia corrected sharply.
"Husband-who-was-cuddling-my-cousin-like-she-was-a-stuffed-toy," Adam shot back.
I choked.
Axel, traitor that he is, tried not to smile.
"Technically," he said mildly, "I was asleep."
Adam narrowed his eyes. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's supposed to make it less scandalous," Axel replied. "Clearly it failed."
My father cleared his throat. "Perhaps," he suggested, "we could focus on welcoming our guest rather than recounting who held whom in their sleep."
"Yes, please," I muttered.
Adam set his fork down with exaggerated care, then leaned back in his chair and studied Axel openly.
"So," he said again. "Darkstorm."
Axel inclined his head. "Iris."
"Enemy prince," Adam continued.
"Annoyed cousin," Axel returned.
My mother made a small, strangled noise that might have been a stifled laugh.
Adam's mouth twitched.
"Bold," he said. "I'll give you that."
"Thank you," Axel said. "I've been told it's a side effect of impending kingship and constant mortal danger."
Adam's eyes sharpened.
"You hurt her," he said conversationally, "and I will remove your head from your body. Slowly."
"Adam," I hissed.
Axel didn't flinch.
"Understood," he said. "Though if it's all the same to you, I'd rather avoid giving you a reason."
"Big words for someone who sleeps like the dead," Adam muttered.
"I sleep like a soldier who hasn't had a night off in two months," Axel corrected. "And for what it's worth, Princess Rome falls asleep on people uninvited as well."
I stared at him. "Why," I demanded, "would you say that out loud?"
He shrugged, unbothered. "Equal embarrassment. It's only fair."
Adam looked between us, something flickering in his gaze.
"Oh," he said slowly. "You're one of those."
"Those what?" I asked, wary.
"Idiots," he said. "The kind who are actually starting to like each other."
My face went up in flames.
Lucia's brows rose a fraction. Darius hid a smile behind his cup. My mother's eyes filled again for the third time this week.
"Ahem," one of the advisors ventured delicately. "Perhaps we might discuss the purpose of Prince Adam's visit?"
"Cousin Adam," I corrected automatically.
"General Adam," he amended smugly.
Of course.
"Your Majesties," Adam said, turning suddenly polite as he addressed our parents, "I apologize for my…dramatic entrance. Word of the attack reached us later than it should have. I came as soon as I could."
My father's expression softened. "We are grateful you are here," he said. "If late."
Adam winced, then shot me a guilty look.
"Yes, well," he said. "I may have…misplaced a letter."
I gaped. "You lost my wedding letter?"
He flailed. "In my defense, there was a war on!"
"There is always a war on," Lucia muttered.
"Exactly," Adam said, as if that proved his point. "But I'm here now. And I intend to stay until I'm convinced this—" he gestured loosely between me and Axel "—is not an elaborate hostage situation."
"It's not," I said.
"Debatable," Axel added dryly.
I elbowed him under the table.
Adam narrowed his eyes again. "I'll be the judge of that."
"Of course you will," I sighed. "Because nothing says 'relaxing newlywed life' like being evaluated by my overprotective cousin with a death wish."
"Please," he said. "This is going to be fun."
"For you," Axel and I said in unison.
We glanced at each other.
Adam saw it.
His gaze sharpened, then softened just a fraction.
"Fine," he said. "Maybe for me a little. But mostly, I'm here to help."
"Help with what?" I asked.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
"With whatever is coming next," he said simply. "Because if rebels are painting broken crowns on your walls, and Darkstorm lords are sharpening knives, and you two are tying yourselves together under arches like it won't make you bigger targets—" he looked between us, serious for the first time that morning "—then you're going to need more than pretty speeches and balcony kisses."
Lucia's gaze flicked to him, considering.
"You presume much," she said quietly.
"I observe much," he replied. "And I've fought in enough border skirmishes to know when something is building."
Silence settled, heavier now.
He wasn't wrong.
"We'll be increasing patrols," Darius said. "And tightening the palace guard."
"And you'll do it with people who have spent their lives on smooth stone and polished floors," Adam said. "You need someone who's spent time in the mud. Who knows how rebels move when they think no one is watching."
"Volunteering?" Axel asked.
Adam shrugged. "I was sent here to assess," he said. "By Iris. By our generals. They want to know if this alliance is worth backing with more than polite applause."
My stomach twisted.
"So you're not just here to berate me?" I asked.
"Well," he said, eyes glinting. "That too. But I can multitask."
My father sighed. "And your recommendation to our council will be…?"
Adam's gaze slid back to me.
Then to Axel.
He held it there for a long moment, like he was measuring something I couldn't see.
"Undecided," he said at last. "For now. I haven't met your rebels yet. Or your lords. Or your people in the streets." He tilted his head. "But I've met them."
He nodded at us.
"And?" Axel asked.
A slow grin spread across Adam's face.
"And if anyone can turn this mess into something that doesn't get us all killed," he said, "it's probably you two idiots."
Warmth bloomed in my chest, surprised and a little fragile.
"Is that your version of approval?" I asked.
"It's my version of 'don't screw this up or I'll disown you,'" he said.
"You can't disown me," I retorted. "You're the one who loses letters."
He threw a grape at me.
I caught it without thinking and popped it into my mouth.
"I hate that you're competent," he muttered.
"You taught me," I reminded him.
Axel cleared his throat lightly.
"Since we're all being very touching and sentimental," he said, "might I suggest that if you're staying"—he nodded at Adam—"we find a more productive outlet for your protective rage than throwing fruit at your cousin?"
Adam squinted. "Are you asking me to work with you?"
"I'm asking," Axel said carefully, "if you'd like to join the very small list of people I trust to watch Rome's back when I can't be in two places at once."
The room went quiet again.
Even Lucia looked mildly startled.
Adam stared at him.
"He's serious," I said softly.
Adam's jaw worked.
"I don't like you," he said finally.
"That seems fair," Axel replied.
"I don't trust Darkstorm," Adam added.
"Also fair," Axel said.
"But I do trust Rome," Adam finished. "And for some reason I can't explain, she hasn't stabbed you yet."
"High bar," Axel said dryly. "I'm honored."
Adam snorted.
Then, slowly, he extended a hand across the table.
Axel looked at it for half a heartbeat.
Then took it.
The grip was firm.
Too firm.
They were absolutely trying to crush each other's fingers.
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of juice to hide my smile.
"Fine," Adam said. "I'll help. I'll look at your gates. Your patrol routes. Your weak points. I'll tell you where they'll hit next."
"And I," Axel replied, "will try not to be offended when you inevitably insult my entire security force."
"Good," Adam said. "We understand each other."
My father exhaled slowly, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.
Lucia watched it all with that same unreadable expression, the one that said she was re-mapping the board in her head.
Darius signaled for more food.
Just like that, the worst of the storm passed.
For now.
I let myself breathe.
Under the table, Axel's knee brushed mine.
I didn't move away.
Later, when breakfast was finally over and the advisors had scattered like startled birds, I slipped out onto one of the smaller balconies off the corridor.
The sky was a pale, washed blue. The gardens stretched below, familiar and foreign all at once.
Footsteps sounded behind me.
"You always run to balconies," Adam said, stepping out.
"You always follow," I replied.
He came to stand beside me, leaning on the railing.
For a while, we didn't say anything.
"You look older," he said at last.
"So do you," I said.
He huffed. "Rude."
"It's true," I pointed out. "You have more scars."
He grinned. "You have more crowns."
We fell quiet again.
"I'm sorry," I blurted.
He blinked. "For what?"
"For the letter," I said. "For the wedding. For not having you there. I know it mattered to you."
His jaw tightened.
"Yeah," he said. "It did."
Guilt twisted in my stomach.
"But," he added after a beat, "I also know you. If you didn't send it, it wasn't because you didn't want me there."
"I thought I had," I admitted miserably.
"You probably did," he said. "But if it had to get past three borders, two censors, and five opportunistic couriers, I'm impressed any of our letters ever arrive at all."
I let out a shaky laugh.
"I wanted you to walk me down the aisle," I confessed. "I imagined it. Over and over."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"I did too," he said softly.
I glanced at him.
He was staring straight ahead, jaw clenched, eyes suspiciously bright.
"I'm angry," he said. "At fate. At timing. At stupid wars and stupid kings and letters that vanish. I am furious I wasn't there."
My throat tightened.
"But," he continued, turning to look at me, "I'm not angry at you."
Tears pricked unexpectedly at the corners of my eyes.
"That's unfair," I said. "You're supposed to yell at me for closure."
He laughed.
"Trust me," he said. "I've yelled at enough people this week."
He sobered.
"I saw you," he added quietly. "When I walked into that garden this morning. Not just the scandalous bed scene."
"Can we not call it that?" I groaned.
"I saw you," he repeated, ignoring me. "You looked…less terrified than I expected. More…you."
My chest stuttered.
"I was terrified," I whispered.
He nodded. "I know. But you were still you. Not a doll. Not a puppet. Not some empty-eyed bride."
He nudged my shoulder.
"And he," Adam said, jerking his chin back toward the breakfast room, "didn't look like a man about to swallow you whole. That's a start."
I smiled, small and real.
"You'll stay?" I asked.
"As long as I'm useful," he said. "Longer, if it annoys Lucia."
"It will," I said.
"Excellent," he replied.
He straightened, then slapped a hand lightly on the rail.
"All right, then," he said. "Show me your kingdom, Rome of Iris. Show me what exactly I'm supposed to help you protect."
I looked out over the gardens.
Over the palace.
Over the city beyond.
And for the first time since everything began—since Darkstorm and rebels and crowns and weddings and knives—I felt something like a team forming around me.
Olivia.
Rowan.
Adam.
Axel.
Me.
It wasn't much.
It also might be everything.
I exhaled.
"Fine," I said. "But no complaining about the number of flowers."
He grimaced. "No promises."
I laughed.
And as we walked back inside together, I couldn't shake the feeling that, whatever waited for us—rebels, councils, sharpened knives, broken crowns—we might actually have a chance of meeting it and still coming out ourselves on the other side.
Terrified.
Bruised.
But still us.
And for now, that was enough.