(Nyx POV)
"My mother?" I asked quietly. "I saw the Trust. It was empty."
Vivienne's expression softened, but her eyes clouded with something heavier—memory. "It wasn't empty," she said. "It was made to look empty."
I blinked. "What are you saying?"
She took a slow breath; she sat, her hands folded in her lap. "Your mother was a Lycan, Nyx. Part of the royal court. She came from an established family of means and power. She would have been two hundred and fifty this year."
I didn't speak. The number alone made my chest ache.
"She was one of my dearest friends," Vivienne continued, her voice turning fragile around the edges. "She had a sizable dowry, even after her father disowned her for marrying your father, a soldier in the royal guard. Just a wolf."
She paused and wiped at a tear she hadn't realized had fallen. "She died in childbirth. The village she was living in was destroyed that same night. No one's ever been sure by who, but I've always believed someone wanted your mother dead."
The air seemed too thin between us.
"You children were part of a prophecy," Vivienne whispered. "She used to laugh about it, said she didn't believe in such things. And it got her killed."
I sat still, pulse hammering. "There's that damn Prophecy."
Vivienne nodded faintly. "Because she and I were like sisters, she left me as executor of her estate. She had the trust drawn up when she found out she was pregnant. She just knew.
The money I transferred to the trust—that was just a fraction of what her fortune truly amounted to. After she was killed, her entire family was found dead within twenty-four hours of her death."
Her voice cracked for the first time. "She would be heartbroken to know her three children never found their way back to each other."
Silence stretched, filled with ghosts. I looked at the woman beside me—the queen, my mother's friend—and for the first time, I saw not authority, but loss.
Vivienne took my hand, her fingers trembling despite herself. "Your mother fought to give you life, Nyx. Don't waste it hiding. You are her legacy—and her revenge."
The kettle had gone cold hours ago.
I sat on the couch, legs crossed, hair pulled into a messy bun that had given up halfway through the day. My sweatshirt, purchased at a novelty shop in town, hung off one shoulder, letters cracked and faded: I'm the Good Twin.
Vivienne stood at the window, moonlight sharpening the lines of her face. She looked regal even in silence.
I gestured to the couch beside me. "Please sit. I don't bite anymore."
She gave a quiet, brittle laugh and sat in perfect posture, unable to escape her roots.
"So," I said, leaning forward, elbows on my knees, hands clasped tight between them. "What's our endgame? Because from where I'm sitting, you've got all the cards."
Vivienne's eyes softened. "No, Nyx. We've got the cards."
I tilted my head. "We?"
"Yes," she said. "Dorian's not going anywhere. I think he knows I know where you are."
My head shot up. "What?"
Vivienne lifted a hand. "No, no, dear. He didn't follow me. He gave me space to come see you alone."
I searched her face. There was no deceit, only exhaustion.
"He had to stay for the inquiry," she continued. "They're trying to annul your mate bond and give the title to Liana. She's got a few of the elders in her pocket."
My throat tightened. "And Dorian?"
"He won't let that happen." Vivienne's voice dropped, low and steady. "I think he knows about the pups."
I froze. "How?"
Her smile was faint and sad. "He's Lycan and wolf, Nyx. He can feel you—and his children. Hell, I can feel them. Two boys. They're loud."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then I laughed, sharp and wet with tears. "Shit." I covered my mouth. "Oops, sorry, Your Highness."
Vivienne laughed too, the sound fragile but real. For the first time in a long time, we were just women—tired, scared, still standing.
I stood, sliding my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. "So what do I do?"
She looked at me like a mother does when she's about to give you truth instead of comfort. "You have choices. Wait for him to come—because he will. Finding you isn't hard, Nyx. You stand out. Or…"
"Or what?"
"Come home," she said softly. "And fight this out under his protection."
I shook my head hard. "I was told I wouldn't be protected there. You can't protect my children, Queen Mother." My voice cracked on the title. "If that hussy can get into my bedchambers—if Dorian had to install cameras on his own doors—how am I supposed to sleep there? How am I supposed to leave my children there?"
The silence that followed wasn't anger. It was grief—shared, heavy, unsolved. "You can't do this alone."
We just looked at each other, two women trying to rewrite fate with no ink left.
Finally, Vivienne's voice broke through, quieter now. "Fighting together as two is better than this. You're too isolated up here, Nyx."
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to trust that unity still meant something in that kingdom built on secrets, lies, and death.
"I'll buy you time," she said, standing slowly. "I have resources. But you'll have to decide soon." She came to me and hugged me. Touched her grandbabes, felt them move.
"When?" I whispered.
She hesitated at the door, eyes soft and sharp all at once. "When are the pups due?"
"Six weeks."
Her expression hardened—the way only a strategist's can. "I can only buy you days to decide."