The Queen Mother’s private study is accessible through a servants’ passage that most of the palace has forgotten exists.

Malik found it two days ago, and now we’re pressed against the wall in the narrow corridor, barely breathing, listening through the ventilation grate.

“The blood trials begin in a few days.” The Queen Mother’s voice is clear, commanding. “Everything is proceeding as planned.”

“And if the girl wins?” An unfamiliar male voice.

“She won’t. The forced mate bond drains her—she doesn’t even realize how much. Every time that pathetic Alpha’s emotions spike, it weakens her through the corrupted magic.”

A pause. “We let them weaken each other first. Three brutal challenges over three days. Let them both suffer, both bleed. Then Damon finishes it.”

My hand finds Malik’s in the darkness. His fingers tighten around mine.

“And the Prince? He’s been showing concern for her.”

“The twin bond.” Seraphine’s voice goes cold. “Once she’s dead, the guilt will destroy him. A guilt-ridden, traumatized heir is far easier to control.” She laughs. “He’ll rule, but he’ll be broken. Exactly as I need him.”

“What about the King?”

“Maelric grows weaker every day. The tonic in his evening wine is doing its work.” Satisfaction drips from her tone. “By the time Damon takes the throne, his father will be too ill to interfere with my regency.”

Malik’s entire body goes rigid. She’s poisoning the King.

“And the Shadowpine Alpha?”

“Marcus keeps him distracted with diplomatic nonsense. The fool believes his bond with Kira is real, that his wolf chose her. He has no idea it’s fabricated magic designed to cage her.”

Her voice drops. “Marcus will ensure it stays that way. He knows what happens to those who displease me.”

My chest tightens. Everything has been orchestrated by her.

“The girl must die in the trials. No accidents. No suspicions. Just a tragic prophecy.” Footsteps echo. “I’ve been planning this since before those twins were born. Since Elara got pregnant and threatened everything I’d built.” Her voice turns to ice.

“I didn’t claw my way from minor nobility to Queen Mother just to be displaced by some hidden brat. Damon is mine. The throne is mine. And anyone who threatens that ends up like Elara—dead and forgotten.”

The implication hits me like a physical blow. She killed my mother.

Malik’s hand covers my mouth before the gasp can escape. We don’t speak until we’re back in my chambers, door locked, wards activated. Then I collapse onto the edge of my bed, hands shaking.

“She killed my mother,” I whisper. “She’s poisoning the King. She created the mate bond. She’s been controlling everything—”

“Kira.” Malik kneels in front of me, hands framing my face. “Breathe. We know now. We have information we didn’t have before.”

“What good does knowing do?” My voice cracks. “She’s been planning this for decades. We have a couple days—”

“A couple days to prepare. To warn the King. To expose her.” His thumbs brush my cheekbones. “You’re not fighting this alone.”

I lean into his touch, letting his steadiness anchor me. We stay like that for a long moment, just breathing together.

Eventually, Malik leaves to post guards and check security. I change into my nightgown, trying to calm my racing mind.

Soon, the blood trials begin.

The knock comes near midnight.

I’m still awake, staring at the ceiling, when I hear it. Soft. Hesitant. Not like Malik’s confident rap or the guards’ formal announcement.

I open the door, and Damon nearly falls through it.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify