Arthur’s POV
The northern wind bit at my face like a living thing, sharp enough to cut through fur and armor, but none of its cold compared to the ache twisting deep inside my chest.
Tyla.
Every step farther from the palace worsened it.
Every mile widened the hollow in my sternum where her scent used to cling.
Every night I closed my eyes and saw the way she looked at me — soft, uncertain, warm — like she didn’t believe she deserved safety, yet reached for me anyway.
And I left her.
I had to.
For the kingdom.
For the war brewing at our borders.
For the message from my northern commander that had pulled me from her side hours after I held her in my arms.
But knowing it was necessary didn’t make it hurt less.
“Your Highness,” Commander Dathan called from his horse. “We’ll set cam
