Of all the things he had expected, this was not on his card.
"Why?" he asked, brows furrowed in confusion. "With respect, we already have the werewolf princess trapped in Blood City with the damned bloodsucker. And now... the Queen is to join her?"
He couldn’t keep the bite out of his tone. The words "trapped" and "bloodsucker" carried the same bitterness he’d tried to swallow since Luna had chosen her vampire mate over him.
Queen Ravena smiled graciously. "The prince requested that I come to plan Luna’s wedding."
Kyllian’s wolf growled low in his chest.
Of course. The vampire didn’t waste time.
"She’s getting married," Kyllian said, the words escaping his lips in a whisper so low he might as well have been speaking to his own broken shadow. It was a quiet resignation.
King Magnus sent him a pitiful glance. "We all knew it was going to happen," the king said. "I need you to stay and protect the queen during her stay."
"Your Highness," Kyllian said quickly, his eyes snapping to the king’s. "I doubt that’s a good idea. I really do not think being around the princess is reasonable."
"Reasonable or not, it is necessary," King Magnus replied. "I do not trust anyone else with my wife’s safety. Keep her safe, Kyllian. And..." he paused, as though the next part hurt to say, "find closure with the princess."
"Your Highness..." Kyllian tried again, hating how his voice trembled slightly. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding on to hope until he was told to find a way to let it go.
"That will be all." The finality in the king’s tone landed like a gavel, leaving Kyllian no room to protest further. .com
He bowed, slowly and stiffly, then turned on his heel, carrying the weight of two crowns: the one he was born to serve, and the one he would never wear—her.
"He did what?!" Seliora’s eyes, wild with disbelief, locked onto her trembling maid.
Natasha stood still as a statue. "The prince announced your pregnancy at court," she repeated carefully.
"I heard that part," Seliora spat. Her eyes flared with enough rage to send a lesser servant running for the hills.
"He also announced that he would be getting married to the princess," Natasha said quickly, eyes darting to the door as if contemplating escape.
Seliora stood so still, the room seemed to hold its breath with her. And then, slowly, her lips curled into a feral snarl. "He announced his engagement to another woman right after announcing that an heir was to be born." She turned. "He couldn’t wait a few days? He couldn’t let the people bask in the joy of an heir we have all been waiting for? That bitch! She made him do this!"
She stopped mid-rant. "The bitch is stealing even my child’s thunder."
The bitterness was sharp, raw. She had envisioned parades, gifts delivered to her chambers, and nobles bowing in reverence to the woman who would birth the future king or queen. But instead? Instead, she’d gotten scattered applause and a dismissive afterthought. No one cared about her.
Seliora’s eyes burned as the walls of her carefully crafted fantasy came crashing down. She had gambled everything, she had lied, threatened, plotting, for that child, for the glory it would bring her. And still, it hadn’t been enough.
She dropped heavily into the chair near the window. "She always wins," she whispered. "Even when she doesn’t try, she always wins."
"Your Highness, if I may..." Natasha clasped her hands in front of her, head slightly bowed, but her eyes gleamed with cunning. "If she becomes queen... what becomes of your position?"
Seliora turned her head slowly, her hair cascading over her shoulder. Her lips parted, blinking as if those words had knocked the breath from her chest. She had been so consumed by rage over the attention Luna had stolen that she hadn’t fully considered the long game. "It doesn’t matter," she said, trying to hold onto the remains of her pride. "I will someday become Queen Mother." .com
"Will you?" Natasha asked sweetly, stepping forward just enough to let her presence linger. "She will be queen, and she will get rid of you. No woman wants a rival—especially not werewolves. They mark territory, Your Highness. She will have the power to make you disappear... and raise your child as hers."
Seliora’s head snapped up as if Natasha had struck her with those words. "No..." she whispered. "She cannot do that. Damien wouldn’t allow it."
"Wouldn’t he?...He is her mate. She breathes and he listens. She weeps and he bleeds. He will allow whatever she wants. She is the queen of his heart. Even the king made her the royal envoy—a werewolf! The shame on Blood City. And yet the people accepted it. All because she has these men wrapped around her finger."
Seliora swallowed hard, her palms damp, her throat tight. Her heart beat erratically in her chest for fear. Luna had already taken so much from her. What if... what if she took her child, too?
"For what?" Natasha asked, feigning innocence. "For her warmblood and beating heart?"
Seliora sat frozen, staring at the carpet beneath her feet as her mind played out the terrible scenario: Luna on the throne, her belly full with a hybrid child, Seliora exiled to some noble’s villa, a footnote in history books. The woman who birthed the heir—but didn’t raise him. A mother without a child. A concubine without a crown forgetting that there was no baby. She was so wrapped up in the illusion she had created, she was beginning to believe it.
"What do you propose we do?" Seliora asked at last.
"As soon as your child is born..." she leaned in as if the shadows themselves would try to overhear, "get rid of her first. Before she gets rid of you."
"But the prince..." Seliora started. "A prince without his mate."
"Is weak...yes but your child is born and the line of succession is assured."
Seliora smiled. "That way, he will have no choice but to want me again."