36

The inquiries arise unexpectedly.

It’s late, and the palace is still thick with the strain of everything coming apart around us. I had finally gotten the triplets comfortable in their temporary space, tucking them in and adjusting their blankets over them as I usually did. I anticipated that fatigue would overcome them swiftly, soothing them into slumber after all they had faced.

Yet Damon’s voice, soft yet consistent, penetrates the silence.

"Why did you go?"

The words halt me in the midst of my action.

I remain motionless, fingers poised above the blanket's fabric, my heart aching painfully in my chest. I gaze at him, and his stormy gray eyes—so similar to his—are fixed on me, probing.

Selene and Ryker are observing as well.

Though they remain silent, their expressions convey a great deal. They are in anticipation.

I gulp with difficulty, my mouth abruptly parched.

"We needed to," I respond thoughtfully. “It was not secure.”

It is the reality. However, that is insufficient.

Damon appears to be skeptical. His eyebrows knit together, his hands clutching the hem of his blanket as if anchoring himself.

"Why didn't he search for us?"

The question strikes like a knife.

My breath halts, my body tightening as the past crashes into me once more.

Since the response isn’t straightforward. It's not an issue I can neatly package or embellish in any way.

I want to express that Liam searched for them and fought for us. However, I'm uncertain if that's accurate.

I want to express that he was unaware and that he wouldn't have been able to locate us even if he had made an effort. Yet, deep inside, I'm aware that it falls short.

Therefore, I act as I usually do when the reality is too hurtful to express directly. I evade.

"It's intricate," I whisper.

Damon's gaze deepens. "That doesn't provide a response."

His voice is more pointed now, irritation beginning to emerge. And I hold no resentment towards him. Since this is part of his history as well. His existence. Theirs and Selene's and Ryker's.

They are entitled to answers.

They merit more than the shattered, rough fragments of a tale I struggle to narrate.

Selene moves next to him, her little hands clenched in the sheets. “Do you still dislike him?” she inquires, her voice softer, uncertain.

My heart aches with pain.

I ought to agree.

I need to inform them that their father was a coward, that he preferred power instead of love, that I had to battle for them by myself while he remained on his throne, unaware.

However, the reality?

The reality is that I'm uncertain about my emotions now.

Liam had deceived me. Had abandoned me to take care of myself. Deserted me when I required him the most.

And nonetheless…

He gazed at them as if they were his entire universe.

He almost lost his life while safeguarding them.

He had stated, with calm, harsh sincerity— "I never required your forgiveness. "I required your presence."

And I’m not sure how to handle that.

I breathe out gradually, my fingers clenching in my lap. “It isn’t about hatred,” I finally state. “It revolves around decisions.” “And Liam... made decisions I couldn’t accept.”

Damon gazes downward, seemingly pondering what I said.

Ryker, the most reserved of the trio, finally voices his thoughts. “However, he has changed now.”

It's not a query.

It is a declaration.

One that embeds itself in my bones like a burden I’m not prepared to bear.

Since I’m unsure if they are correct.

I'm not sure if Liam has changed.

However, I realize that for the first time in a while, I’m scared of the response.

Liam has encountered battles. He has faced adversaries intent on his demise, led packs of wolves that would slay at his order. He has been labeled merciless, unwavering, a monarch without flaws.

Yet now, facing his own kids, he appears bewildered.

The triplets don’t shrink away from him as his pack does. They do not hesitate to meet his eyes. They fear not the Alpha King—they perceive only the father they have never encountered.

And they seek responses.

"Why haven’t you searched for us?"

The question lingers in the atmosphere like a sword.

Liam breathes in deeply, as if preparing for a battle, yet this is a struggle he doesn't know how to conquer. His grip on the chair’s armrest tightens, his stance stiff, as if he is compelling himself to remain motionless under their scrutiny.

"I wasn't aware," he finally replies, his voice hoarse and strained. "I was unaware of your existence."

It is a fact. However, that's insufficient.

As Damon's expression contorts with an inscrutable emotion, Ryker's lips press tightly in annoyance, while Selene—much more subdued than the boys—merely observes.

Awaiting.

For what purpose? A superior justification? A genuine one?

Liam’s throat moves as he searches for words, hoping to find something that doesn’t seem like an excuse, something that they will comprehend. How can you describe betrayal to a child? How can you explain to them that their mother—the most resilient woman you’ve ever encountered—had to escape because you lacked the strength to defend her?

The quiet becomes expansive.

Then Elias—keen, passionate Elias, the one who always questions before agreeing to anything—utters his words.

"Perhaps you aren’t worthy of us."

The words hit Liam like a tangible strike.

His jaw clenches, and for the first time since the discussion started, he averts his gaze.

I understand it now.

The precise instant it dawns on him—not only the burden of what he’s lost, but also what he continues to lose.

His offspring.

They are not merely a statement, a birthright, successors to a troubled realm. There are three small spirits who are unfamiliar with him.

They lack trust in him.

And if he doesn't proceed with caution, they will never do so.

For someone like Liam—who has consistently governed with power and authority—this is a battle he is unprepared to handle.

Since brute force won’t resolve this.

Authority won't cause them to love him.

And for the first time, I observe him crumble.

Not in a manner that anyone else would perceive. Not in any extravagant show of feelings.

But I notice the slight droop of his shoulders. The manner in which his breath hesitates briefly before he steadies it. His fingers, typically clenched into tight, controlled fists, quiver slightly before becoming motionless.

I anticipate him to dispute, to assert something authoritative, something that would show Elias is mistaken.

However, he does not.

Instead, he merely nods once—slowly, with resignation.

And when he ultimately talks, his voice is raspy.

"Perhaps I do not."

For the first time in years, I perceive Liam Hart not as a king, nor as my adversary, but as a father aware he is losing the one thing he never realized he desired.