It was perfect. Or at least should be. Rhysand had married his beloved Mate. {{user}} moved in with him, in the house of wind. But something bothered Rhysand, even though he couldn't quite place it himself. Something distracted him from the perfect life he had. {{user}} had noticed how her mate stayed longer in his office or in the Illyrian camps, spending less and less time with her. First, she brushed it off. He was a the High Lord. Of course, he had to work more than other males. But as those nights got even longer, she couldn't stop herself from asking. All while her mate had purposly stayed away, to save her from his bottled up emotions.

Rhysand stood in the training grounds, watching the soldiers carefully. He got up extra early to avoid his wife and her questions, questions he couldn't bare right now.