(Nyx POV)
The royal library felt different than anywhere I'd ever been. Vaulted stone, carved shelves stretching toward the ceiling, the faint hum in the air—it was as if the walls themselves remembered every secret ever spoken within them.
I stepped inside beside Dorian, braced for another lecture on prophecy.
Instead, a voice bloomed in my mind.
Welcome, daughter.
I froze. My gaze darted to the table where Dorian's parents—the retired King and Queen, Luna—sat with her sister-in-law. I'd met them before, when I was hospitalized, but never like this, never with their words echoing inside my head.
Do not be alarmed, the Queen's voice soothed through the link. You are bound now—to your mate, to us, to the kingdom itself.
I turned to Dorian, breath catching. "I didn't know."
His silver gaze held mine, unflinching. "I shielded it. Until you were strong enough to carry it."
My chest tightened. "The only link I've ever shared was with my ops team. They've been… quiet lately."
The retired King rose, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Then allow me to ease that burden. Each member of your unit will receive their monthly stipend—plus a three-month advance. No wolf who bled for duty will starve."
My throat burned. Gratitude warred with suspicion. Why would he help me?
A pulse brushed against my mind—warm now, familiar.
Because we're family, baby. Nothing nefarious here. I promise.
Dorian's voice, threaded with his Lycan's low growl, rolled through me like heat after a storm. The sound slowed my heartbeat, grounding me in a way words never could.
My shoulders eased without permission.
I really love our Lycan, Kelly murmured, smug. He knows how to talk to us. I think we're safe, Nyx.
For the first time that morning, I believed her.
The King's tone broke through the quiet. "Any who seek positions here will be vetted. Loyalty rewarded. Compromise will not."
I inclined my head. "Thank you. That means more than you realize."
The Queen gestured to the long table. "Sit. Eat. This day, we speak of prophecy."
The lights flickered, shadows crawling across platters of fresh muffins, eggs, crisp bacon, roasted meats, warm bread, and steaming coffee. I'd faced gunfire and drones, but this table made me sweat. My leathers suddenly felt wrong—too heavy against my skin.
The Queen unrolled a scroll shimmering with old magic. "When the forgotten twin glows and the Lycan King is marked," she read, "blood and fire will decide the fate of the throne."
The words sank like stones into still water.
"Forgotten twin," I echoed.
The Luna nodded. "You were not a mistake. You were hidden—feared. Your glow, your strength—these are your birthright."
Dorian's hand found mine under the table, his thumb brushing the back of my knuckles. "You don't face this alone."
The tension was suffocating. I blurted the first thing that came to mind.
"A week ago, I was showering in barracks with twelve soldiers. Now I'm eating prophecy for breakfast."
Silence. Then a cough. Even the Queen's sister-in-law looked scandalized.
Dorian's growl rolled low, warning. "Do not share that outside this room."
Heat crept up my neck. "Yes, Your Highness."
Kelly purred, Oh, that pushed his buttons.
His grip tightened, possessive. "Eat, little mate. The Elders will circle soon enough."
The uneasy quiet had just settled when the double doors opened—unannounced.
Every head turned.
Liora glided in as if she'd been expected. Gold silk cascaded over her shoulders, her hair coiled in a perfect crown braid. Even her perfume had changed—expensive, intoxicating, victorious.
I barely hid my shock.
How the hell did she pull that off in an hour? I linked Dorian. At times, I wonder if there weren't three of us.
His head turned sharply, staring at me, for a few seconds longer than usual, as if the idea had merit, something he was not saying, had come to his mind.
His nostrils flaring, he slowly turned his head and looked at her, as if he was cataloging her hair, her walk, her mannerisms. His Lycan stirred beneath his skin, but he said nothing.
The Queen's fan froze mid-air. "You were not summoned."
Liora smiled, sweet and venomous. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I thought breakfast with family was still permitted. Unless that rule changed with the new… occupant."
Her gaze slid to me like a blade. "Leather at breakfast? Bold. I suppose when one claws their way into royalty, etiquette becomes optional."
The courtiers stiffened. A spoon clattered.
Kelly hissed, Goddess, I hate her.
Dorian's tone was soft and lethal. "You're out of bounds, Liora."
"Am I?" she purred. "Boundaries seem flexible these days. Some of us are very good at crossing them." Her eyes flicked to the mark at my throat.
The Queen rose, voice glacial. "Enough. Excuse yourself before I remind the guards why the eastern wing has locks."
For a heartbeat, defiance burned in Liora's eyes. Then she curtsied—too deep, too sweet.
"Of course, Your Grace. I'd hate to disturb the Queen Consort's… digestion."
She turned to me, smiling razor bright. "Enjoy your meal, sister. If you can stomach it."
As she straightened, her gaze flicked—not at me, not at Dorian, but toward the far wall where the old bookcases met carved paneling. The glance was quick, practiced, almost careless. But I saw it.
One heartbeat of awareness passed between us before she looked away, her perfume trailing like smoke.
The doors closed behind her with a whisper that felt louder than a scream.
Silence pressed in. Even the candles stilled.
Then—a pulse in the link shattered it.
My King. Cassian's voice, breathless and raw. The assassin's trail turns toward the castle. We were led on a fool's run. I apologize, my King. The castle guards have been alerted. We're on our way back.
Dorian's eyes snapped to mine, gold already flickering.
"Too late," I whispered.
A sound came from behind the wall.
A scrape.
A thud.
And the faint sound of breath where no breath should be.