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*****

RETH

Elia lay in his arms, deeply and soundly asleep, her hair fluttering in the breeze of her breath, washing the room in her scent. And he was grateful. But over an hour later, Reth found himself still wide awake and staring at the ceiling of the cave, his trembling arms still curved around her.

He was beginning to sweat. His heart skipped beats and throbbed in his ears.

He forced himself to breathe deeply and quietly because he didn't want to wake her—she needed her rest. But his own body refused to rest—and in fact, seemed determined to drag him into fear.

He couldn't get close enough. Trying not to jostle her, he dropped his nose against her hair and inhaled her scent, reminding all of his senses that she was there. Right there. She would not be taken from him again, he wouldn't allow it!

But visions of her shifting, of the unpredictability of her beast—of the elders' insistence that she be forced to take that step that so terrified her…

Stretching his arms further, to gather as much of her to his chest as he could, curling his knees behind hers so they touched from nose to feet… it still wasn't enough. He couldn't get her close enough to feel safe that they would never be apart.

Her words echoed in his head and he understood them more than he'd been letting on.

"…I thought when I was back here I wouldn't feel afraid anymore,

" she'd said.

"But… it's like the closer I am to you, the more afraid I feel…

"

A shudder rocked through him, shaking Elia as well and her breathing caught.

Cursing himself silently, Reth kissed her hair and her neck and didn't speak, until a minute later her breathing slowed and eased.

He wished he could breathe.

His hand cradled her large, hard stomach and he was reminded that it wasn't just his mate that he feared to lose. That precious little life—growing larger every day—the life that was slowly sucking the life out of her mother. His heart was torn towards two gorgeous females, each so prized in their way, each teetering on the edge of life and their outcome dependent on the other. And both dependent on him and the choices he made, what they caused in the people and land around them… Each life a candle flame, so easily snuffed out by one wrong move.

A groaning huff broke in his throat and he gritted his teeth.

He would hide in the cave with Elia the next day, he had given himself that reprieve—standing sentry, whether the others knew it or not. But he knew there was a limit to how long he could position himself that way. He couldn't keep hiding from the people. Couldn't keep the cord between himself and Elia so short indefinitely.

She was right—being close only made the fear more present. He'd struggled when she was gone, yearned and resisted the distance. But he'd known his purpose and fought for it—for her. For them. But now?

Now Reth felt like they were his purpose, and everything else tore him from them.

But he was King. And his people needed him.

His heart stuttered in his chest again, slamming against his ribs one second, then stopping, seeming to drop to his toes the next, before pounding again.

He was not a male who could ignore his responsibilities. To do so would damage the wellbeing—and possibly even steal the lives—of many, many others. He could not choose his own family over countless others.

But he wanted to. He wanted to close the door of the cave and roar at anyone who approached to leave them, to deal with their problems by their own wits and strength. To stop relying on his!

But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. And so he was torn, from gut to throat, torn in two because the one thing he'd been put on this land to do was protect people—his people, his family, his mate. His offspring.

But protecting them now put others in a position of danger—and protecting his people would separate him from those he loved most. Every choice led to another, and not enough of him to go around.

The irony was, he knew exactly what was needed. But finding the time and energy to do it… that was the problem.

His heart rang like a bell as he saw it in his mind…

He should be walking among the people morning and evening, every day. He should be showing them the way, inspiring them to hope, and reassuring their fears.

He should be leading the councils to return life to normal, to gather the resources that had been neglected during the war. Autumn crops needed to be harvested before they began to rot. What harvest there was since they'd been untended for months. He could kill more of the herd beasts to tide them over, but even that meat had to be managed—dried, or hung and used? He needed to speak to the farmers and identify whether the greater risk lay in having fewer grains, or less protein for the winter months.

He needed to talk to the wolves and soothe their concerns, encourage them to build bridges. He needed to remove Lerrin—get the male healed and out of the Tree City—out of Wildwood!—before another 'well meaning' wolf took his life.

He should be supporting his best friend—who had almost died in defense of his own life! And he should be soothing the fears of those around him.

There were so many things that could go wrong. So many decisions he had to make. Winter was coming. Elreth was coming. And so much sooner than they'd thought.

That vision flashed in his head again—Elia, heavy with cub, and pulling another, a small toddler, by the hand.

It had to be Elreth. She had to be safe. She had to be!

Sweat made his hair cling to his temples. He kicked the furs from his legs, but didn't let go of Elia.

Except, he must have clung too tightly, because she stirred, nudging at his arm to loosen his grip.

He knew exactly what she'd meant. He'd thought when she came back he would feel better, too. And he did. It was so much better being close to her. Scenting her. Seeing her.

But the fear… the jagged, screaming fear that they were on the cusp of disaster… that she would be torn from him. And not to an unseen world, but to the next. To eternity. That fear burned under him like a fire. And slowly, slowly that fire was being fed fuel.

It was only getting worse.

Reth shuddered again, a bead of sweat running from his temple, down his face, to dampen the pillow he shared with Elia.

There was one fear he could keep at bay in that moment. He could watch over her. Listen to her breathing, feeling her heartbeat, and know she was there, and alive, and okay.

That fear he could soothe. And so he continued to stare at the ceiling, and breathe, and watch. That much he could do. It was only the work of one moment.

And the next.