(Nyx POV)
We buried the assassin at dawn. No songs. No name. Just a shallow grave beyond the pack lands where the fog hides everything. He'd tried to kill me—but he'd fought hard, and hard deserves respect. I made sure he was buried like a soldier, not dumped like a traitor.
"He died hard," I said quietly, tossing a handful of dirt onto the mound.
Dorian and Cassian didn't argue. Soldiers understood. Mercy wasn't weakness—it was discipline.
By midday, the palace still smelled like plaster and dust. The library was a wreck; we'd practically torn it apart during the assassin's attempt on our lives. Hammering echoed through the halls. Guards moved tighter, sharper. You could taste the tension in the air—it felt like the edge of a storm that hadn't broken yet.
Dorian stood at the head of the council chamber, his voice steady but commanding."Effective immediately," he said, "the Queen's former unit returns to active duty."
I blinked, then smiled as familiar faces marched in—Rook, Jace, the same reckless crew that had survived the northern sieges with me."Well, look who the Moon dragged in," I said."Couldn't let you have all the fun, Your Majesty," Jace said, smirking like always.
Then came the last one—a new face. Tamsin.
Her skin was deep bronze, warm under the torchlight. Thick, frizzy hair coiled into a tight bun, barely tamed. Hazel eyes—steady, alert, a little daring. Her build was tight and athletic, like mine but taller, and she carried herself like someone who'd earned every scar she didn't show.
Cassian's gaze lingered a second too long.
I noticed.
So did Dorian.
"She's new?" I asked.
"Recommended by a trusted source," Dorian said. "The best I could find when I needed someone to guard my mate."
Tamsin bowed, calm and confident. "An honor, Your Majesties."
Rook muttered under his breath, "You think she can keep up with the Queen?"Jace grinned. "Guess we're about to find out."
Dorian leaned in close enough for only me to hear. "They're loyal," he murmured, "but no more sleeping or showering with them. You wake beside me now."
I arched a brow. "Jealous?"His mouth twitched. "Possessive."
"Deal," I said, trying—and failing—not to smile.
The Spar
An hour later, the training yard buzzed with noise. Even the kitchen staff lingered at the railings.
Tamsin stepped barefoot onto the mat, her bun pulled tight, eyes locked on me. "Permission to spar, Your Majesty?"
"Permission granted," I said, loosening my shoulders.
Cassian leaned against the railing, trying to look casual, failing miserably.
We circled each other, quiet and deliberate. She struck first—a fast, clean kick that skimmed my ribs. I dodged, countered with a right hook that cracked against her guard. The echo carried through the yard.
Tamsin grinned. "Not bad."
"You'll need better than not bad," I shot back.
We clashed—elbow, fist, knee, counter. Every move faster, sharper. Sweat dripped, and blood followed. She fought like a soldier; I fought like a storm. Her shoulder slammed into my ribs. I hit back with a knee to her stomach. She didn't back off. Neither did I.
Inside, Kelly stirred, her tone low and approving. I like her. Then a whisper brushed my thoughts—another wolf's presence. Lina. Kelly growled, satisfied. I like them both.
That half-second of distraction was all Tamsin needed. She swept my legs clean out, sending me hard to the mat.
I rolled, came up laughing. "Cheap shot."
"Effective," she said, wiping blood from her lip.
We went again until we were both panting and bruised. The crowd ate it up. When we hit the mat one last time, tangled and laughing, I raised my hand."Tap out.""Tap out," she echoed.
The yard erupted.
Cassian clapped once. "Looks like I found our next captain.
"Dorian leaned over the rail. "Who won?"I wiped my mouth.
"We both did."Tamsin grinned. "She's fast. I like her."
"Good," I said. "You're stuck with me."
When Dorian helped me up, his hand lingered at my waist. "Satisfied?"
"Completely," I said, glancing at Tamsin. "You chose well."
Cassian said nothing—but his eyes followed Tamsin until she disappeared into the barracks.
The Report
That night, rain hammered the windows. The air in Dorian's quarters was heavy, quiet.
Cassian entered, soaked through, folder in hand, expression grim." The insignia on the assassin's payment trail," he said, "belongs to the Human Justice League."
The room's temperature seemed to drop.
Dorian's tone turned to steel. "You're certain?"
Cassian nodded. "Confirmed. They're not just hunting us—they're targeting every human connected to wolves or Lycans. Even dormant bloodlines. Their goal is total eradication."
I folded my arms. "That's not justice."
"It's genocide," Cassian said flatly. "And they're not even fully human anymore. Most of their assassins carry witch blood. That's why they're faster, stronger, harder to kill."
Dorian's voice dropped lower. "So they hate magic but use it."
"Exactly," Cassian said. "You and the King top their list."
"Then let them come," I said.
Dorian's hand slid to my shoulder, firm and grounding. "They will. But you won't face them alone."
"I can take care of myself."
"You can," he said, holding my gaze. "But you won't do it alone."
Thunder rolled across the mountains. And I felt it again—that old pull—the call to battle. The soldier in me is stirring beneath the crown. I wasn't just a queen. I was a weapon.
And war had just called my name.