(Dorian POV)
The council chamber smelled of sweat and nerves. Too many tempers. Too many lies.
I'd grown used to the sound of shifting chairs and the murmur of courtiers who thought they could whisper beneath a king's hearing. They couldn't.
Vivienne's seat sat empty again. The Queen Mother's absence didn't go unnoticed, and neither did the question hanging like smoke over the room—where was my wife?
Rumors have fermented over the past month. The Human Justice League raid was old news now; the people wanted their Queen. They wanted an heir. And the wolves—especially the elder bloodlines—had begun to talk.
"Perhaps," said Lord Varos, his silver fur glinting under the chamber's lights, "it is time we acknowledge the obvious. The Queen is not returning."
A low growl rippled through my chest before I could stop it. "Choose your words carefully, Varos."
He bowed his head but didn't retreat. "Majesty, the prophecy spoke of balance and peace once the true Queen was crowned—instead, blood spills between the border packs. The rivers run red again. Perhaps… the Goddess demands correction."
Correction. That was their word for annulment.
I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight, gazing steadily. "The Goddess demands patience. You mistake your fear for divine instruction."
The council murmured again—agreement, defiance, curiosity. I didn't miss the glance exchanged between Lord Varos and Liana, who sat behind him, veiled in white silk and feigning virtue.
Liana Vale. The sister of my Queen. The snake in the royal gardens.
She'd requested sanctuary weeks ago, citing her lineage and claiming threat from the same enemies who took her twin. Technically, she was within her rights to stay in the palace. That didn't mean she belonged here.
And yet, somehow, she was always where she shouldn't be.
I'd smelled her perfume in my chambers again last night, it was expensive, predatory. The first time I'd caught her there, she'd been naked in my bed, pretending to be startled when I entered.
I didn't touch her. I didn't speak. I left.
Eventually, I'd had cameras installed in the royal wing after that to discover how she was getting into my chambers. Whatever games she was playing, they'd end soon.
I returned my focus to the council. "My Queen lives," I said flatly. "And she will return when she chooses."
Lord Varos hesitated. "And what evidence do you have of that, Majesty?"
"I'm still breathing," I said. "If she were dead, my wolf would've ripped me apart weeks ago."
A flicker of discomfort ran through the room. The truth unsettled them more than denial ever could.
Liana leaned forward, her voice soft and measured, the same tone her sister once used when calming a frightened child. "Forgive me, Majesty, but the people grow restless. They need to see their rulers united."
"They will," I said.
"When?" she pressed.
Her words struck where she meant them to.
I rose from my chair, slowly, deliberately, until every pair of eyes turned toward me. "You misunderstand prophecy," I said. "It isn't a promise. It's a warning. Peace isn't given—it's earned. Those who wait for miracles instead of making them will drown in their own cowardice."
A hush fell. Even Liana's smile faltered.
Then, from the far end of the table, my mother's voice cut through. "And yet, prophecy always knows its vessel," Vivienne said, sweeping into the room like a storm in silk. "The Goddess does not make mistakes."
Every council member bowed their heads as she took her seat beside me. She didn't look at me, but the faint curve of her mouth spoke volumes.
I cleared my throat. "You're late."
"I'm Queen Mother," she said lightly. "Not your subordinate."
Her eyes were calm—too calm. That was her tell.
She knew something.
"I'm here," she continued, turning toward the council, "to remind you that until the High Moon Council declares otherwise, my son's bond with Queen Nyx stands. The Goddess witnessed it. I witnessed it. And no mortal decree can break it."
Her tone was regal and unyielding. She might as well have drawn steel.
The council fell silent, their earlier courage evaporating. Even Lord Varos lowered his gaze.
After the meeting adjourned, I followed Vivienne to the corridor.
"You enjoyed that," I muttered.
She smiled faintly. "Immensely."
"Why defend her so fiercely?" I asked. "You've been… careful not to take sides before."
"Because the court is restless," she said.
"That's not an answer."
Her eyes flicked toward me, sharp and knowing. "It's the only answer I can give you, Son.
I wanted to press, to demand the truth, but her expression closed like a door. Whatever she was hiding, she wasn't ready to share it.
Before I could speak again, my advisor approached. "Majesty," he said, voice low. "The border dispute worsens. The Riverfall and Veyrune packs have clashed again. Casualties on both sides."
I exhaled slowly. "Send envoys to both. Tell them if they draw one more drop of blood, they'll answer to me directly."
"Yes, Majesty."
He hesitated. "And the public address?"
Right—the broadcast. A few moments later, I was in front of a Teleprompter.
"People of Veyrune," I began, voice steady, even. And gave the speech of my life. The speech would calm the public for now. But inside, my thoughts were anything but calm.
She was alive. But she had blocked the mate link; the bond still pulsed faintly in the back of my mind.
"Damn you, Nyx," I muttered under my breath as the cameras clicked off. "Come home."
But even as I said it, I knew she wouldn't.
Not yet.
The Imposter
That night, exhaustion weighed heavily. I stripped the crown from my head, unbuttoned my collar, and made my way toward my chambers.
The sound of running water greeted me before I even reached the door—steady, rhythmic, intimate.
Steam curled through the cracks, carrying her scent. Jasmine. Rain. Nyx.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Every instinct screamed mate. Months apart had starved something feral inside me, and for a moment, hope nearly broke me.
I pushed the door open. Through the haze of steam, a silhouette moved beneath the water—dark hair tumbling down her back, skin glistening beneath the cascade.
I froze in the doorway, breath shallow. She didn't turn, but I could feel her awareness. The air between us thickened, humming with that familiar, impossible pull.
I stepped closer, slowly, as though afraid the vision would vanish. The wolf inside me stirred, claws scraping the edge of my control. I reached out, brushing my hand against her arm, pulling her gently toward me.
"I've missed you," I whispered.
She turned in my hold.
And everything inside me went cold.
Not Nyx.
Liana.
Her dyed black hair clung to her shoulders, dripping like ink. Her eyes gleamed with triumph, not tenderness.
My wolf recoiled instantly. Fury rolled through me like thunder.
"What have you done?" I hissed.
She smiled, a serpent's smile. "You wanted her, didn't you? You still do. You can't even tell the difference."
"Get out."
Her hand rose to my chest, tracing upward in mock affection. "Let them see who really belongs beside the King."
The air cracked. My control snapped.
Power surged through the room as my Lycan roared to the surface—towering, ancient, dangerous. My voice came out in a low, reverberating snarl. "Out."
Liana froze. Then, pale and shaking, she bolted—slipping past me, naked, into the hall.
Too late. The security lights blinked red. The new cameras I'd installed recorded everything.
By morning, the footage would spread.
Royal Scandal: Princess Naked in King's Chambers!
Let them talk.
I would deal with them all in the morning. But tonight, I stood alone in the fading steam, the ghost of Nyx's scent still clinging to the air—reminding me of everything I had lost, and everything I refused to let go of.