(Nyx POV)
The throne room smelled of old men and tradition.Liana's blood had been taken that morning, legitimizing her claim that she was next in line for the crown—and in her mind, Dorian's mate.
She stood in the center of the chamber, flawless—golden hair gleaming, posture serene, a portrait of control. She carried the same confidence all the Morvain daughters had—but differently. Every movement was perfected, weaponized, intentional.
She looked nothing like a woman who had betrayed and murdered her own sister. She looked like royalty reborn—and she knew it. The girls had been raised with that sense of entitlement, groomed for power by blood and circumstance.
If she had to bully the council into bending to her will, she would. That much was clear in every tilt of her chin. Aunt Serecei had never been able to manage her. In fact, the old woman seemed terrified of her.
My wolf's voice cut through my thoughts, dry and vicious. Liana was like a Chucky doll as a pup—probably popped up behind her nanny with a knife.
Shh, I warned silently, but the image almost made me laugh.
Still, Aunt Serecei stood trembling beside Liana, clutching a folder of parchment—needed, at least, as a prop to make the performance look legitimate.
"It's true," Aunt Serecei said, her voice papery and thin. "I was there when they were born. My brother hid one to protect her—Queen Nyx—"Liana shot her a glare, sharp enough to draw blood."I meant to say… Nyx," the woman stammered. "And the other two, I took to the Morvain family for adoption, as prophecy demanded."
As if that made everything all right.
Liana raised her hand dramatically. "Look," she said, voice ringing through the chamber. "Liora was wearing a fake mark."
Gasps fractured the air like glass.
The elders and priests exchanged horrified looks; council members whispered furiously. Dorian sat quietly on the throne—deceptively relaxed, unimpressed. Cassian stood at his right, jaw tight.
I wasn't permitted near the dais. My seat had been relegated to the council floor, surrounded by my team. Tamsin sat beside me, stiff as stone. The separation was subtle, but everyone noticed. The message was clear: the move to phase me out had already begun.
Public teleprompters broadcast every word to the kingdom. There was no containing this.
"Liora was human," Liana continued, her voice gleeful at the opportunity to discredit her deceased sister. "No wolf in sight."
The crowd in the chamber and throughout the kingdom erupted, stunned at the revelation.
An elder slammed his staff on the marble floor. "If the Crown cannot choose its mate correctly, how can we trust its decisions at all?"
Liana smiled, proud of the mini chaos she'd just released. She didn't flinch beneath the noise; she fed on it. Every whisper, every pointed look, every ounce of tension in the room seemed to make her stand taller.
This was her stage, and she knew it. The council could argue, the priests could pray, but Liana had already won the crowd—their attention, their outrage, their fascination.
And she looked right at me as if to say, Your turn, sister.
Dorian's counsel cleared his throat. "His Majesty met the deceased briefly, fifteen minutes at each audience. It is not uncommon in arranged alliances."
Liana continued rudely, "And I am no human," she spat, placing a hand over her heart. "I am pure wolf. I can shift for the council right now, if you require proof."
"Uh—no, Ms. Liana," the chief priest stammered. "That will not be necessary."
Liana turned slowly, deliberately, until her eyes locked on mine. Her smile sharpened. "We are sisters," she said sweetly. "You should be happy. The Goddess has restored what was divided."
My stomach twisted. "The other sibling is in the morgue," I muttered. "So much for destiny."
Dorian's head turned slightly, his warning clear. The Queen, however, looked proud.
The room pulsed with whispers.
Liana's eyes flashed. "Are you accusing me of murdering our sister?" Her voice carried through the chamber, slicing through the murmurs.
I raised both hands in mock surrender, every movement slow and deliberate. "I'm just saying," I said lightly, "you came into my ceremony waving the knife you claim killed her—like an admission of guilt and a reward."
The words hit like a spark in a room full of dry tinder.
Gasps rippled. Robes rustled. The elders exchanged scandalized looks; one of the priests actually crossed himself.
Liana didn't blink. Her chin lifted a fraction, the perfect imitation of calm—except for the twitch at the corner of her mouth.
I let the silence stretch just long enough for every camera to swing my way. Then I smiled, slow and unapologetic.
"So yes," I finished, lowering my hands. "If the blood-stained stilettos fit… then yes—I am."
The crowd erupted—half horrified, half thrilled.
From the dais, Dorian's jaw tightened. His fingers drummed once against the armrest before going still again—a warning for me to stop while I still could.
I didn't.
Across the room, the Queen's lips curved almost imperceptibly before she hid them behind a hand.
And Liana? She smiled too—but hers was the kind that promised someone would bleed for the humiliation.
I stood, hands steady at my sides. "The Goddess doesn't restore through murder."
Gasps again. Guards moved in, uncertain whether to protect me or restrain me.
Liana tilted her head. "Murder?" Her tone dripped with false pity. "No, dear sister. Sacrifice. The prophecy always demanded one to fall so another may rise."
She lifted her left arm. The mark glowed faintly beneath her skin—perfect, symmetrical, haloed in gold. It pulsed once, catching the moonlight through the stained glass.
Kelly's voice rumbled low in my mind, all teeth and fury. She smells like rot under perfume.
Liana's smile brightened. "Not me, though. I am what prophecy intended. But you, sister—why don't we see yours? Does it reflect like this?"
Mine did not.
The chamber buzzed with scandal. Power was shifting—and everyone could feel it.
Then she played her final card.
"If His Majesty rejects me," she said, voice clear and honeyed, "prophecy warns the true bond will dissolve. Nyx's life will end with the setting of the next full moon."
My pulse thundered in my ears.
"She's lying," Cassian barked. "She's twisting the texts!"
"The texts are clear," Liana replied smoothly. "Two marks, one destiny. The chosen King must unite with the rightful twin, or the Goddess withdraws her blessing. You've all seen what happens when blessings fade."
Every head turned toward me—the wolf who had brought war to the palace, the prophecy now turned curse.
Dorian rose, slow and deliberate. "You will have recognition for your bloodline," he said, voice steady but hollow. "But not my crown. Not my bond."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Liana didn't flinch. Her smile only widened. "Then you choose her death over peace."
"Then what's the rush, sister?" I said evenly. "If the moon's going to kill me, let it. I'll spend my remaining days with my mate, on our honeymoon."I smiled thinly. "And when I'm gone, he's all yours—if he'll even want you."
The crowd gasped.
Liana's mask cracked for half a second before snapping back into place. Dorian's fingers flexed at his side. Cassian winced.
"Because here's the thing," I added. "You can forge blood tests, fake marks, twist prophecies—but you can't fake a bond."
Liana's eyes burned gold, her wolf attempting to break through. "You think love will save you?"
"No," I said softly. "But it'll damn you."
Gavels slammed as raised voices erupted in the room. Priests shouted. Elders pounded the floor. The chamber fractured into chaos.
And for once, I sat back—smug, legs crossed, arms folded, a grin stretching across my face. Let them fight.
When the broadcast camera panned toward me, I lifted one finger, licked it, and drew a checkmark in the air.
"Point for me," I murmured.
Cassian groaned. Tamsin bit back a laugh. Even Dorian's lips twitched before he caught himself.
Across the room, the Queen's gaze met mine. Regal. Measured. Then—slowly—she inclined her head in acknowledgment.
A silent message between wolves: I see you. Hold your ground.
Liana's fury simmered across the floor like heat from a forge—beautiful, dangerous, and moments from detonation.
The Queen rose, her voice cutting through the uproar like a blade."This session is adjourned until the moon sets," she declared. "Let us see who still stands at its next full moon's setting."
The words fell like a verdict. Final. Cold.
The guards moved to clear the chamber.
And though I smiled for the cameras, inside I felt the bond twisting again—tightening like a noose I could no longer ignore.
But as luck would have it, I didn't make it to the next full moon.My whole world changed in the blink of an eye—and nothing would ever be the same again.