With the exception of my parents in the years after they were taken from me, never had I ached for another in the way I did for this queen I’d found myself fated to. Never had I felt another’s pain so acutely as I had hers upon seeing that waddling infant in the ballroom.

I’d known at first glance that he wasn’t Aster’s son, yet I’d still panicked. The guilt of it had flayed me wide when I’d gotten a better scent of the youngling who’d been audaciously named after my father.

All my mate had been through…

All she’d been forced to endure for the sake of this rotten land, and while I’d done nothing but unleash my fury upon others, believing she’d simply chosen her lousy husband over me…

It had never been that simple.

I could see that now, and I could see why she’d been too afraid to explain it all. If I were any other male, then taking a king’s wife would be a death sentence and therefore out of the question.

Luckily for us both, the stars had decided she was stuck with me.

Paintings stood upon easels, all of them propped near the long row of windows and in various states of neglect. They still stunned me. The moon swam across the parchment, capturing each brushstroke and coaxing the eye to trail each deepening hue.

Along the far wall before a tall set of half-filled shelves were hundreds of paintings. They lay in stacks and stood tall upon canvas against the stone wall. A few, in particular, caught my eye and my nose, and I lifted parchment until I found them.

Paintings of me.

My fingers shook as I carefully lowered them, and after a series of light snores, Aster stirred with a snorted gasp.

I crossed the room quietly and knelt beside the chaise to place my hand over her mouth. “Bumblebee.”

Her eyes opened wide. A rushed exhale warmed my palm when she saw me through the dark. The sun would soon rise, but I had to see her. I had to know that despite whatever happened, she did not loathe me for my deception.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, leaning down to tuck my nose into her neck. “I was cruel. A selfish, arrogant prick. I thought you’d simply chosen him. I didn’t know…” I cursed and brushed my lips over her jaw. “Say you’ll forgive me.”

Taking my hand from her mouth, she kissed and hugged it to her cheek. “You weren’t to know because I was too cowardly to tell you.” I was gifted a soft, stomach-easing smile. “It would seem we’ve both been keeping secrets, wolf.”

My cock ached, as did my chest, from the sight of her relief at my touch.