Kira stirred in her sleep, caught deep in a dream. Derek’s words circled her like knives.
A weak, wolfless little runt. Did you honestly believe I loved you?
The one feeding everything we discussed straight back to your father.
She tried to scream, tried to tell him that she had never betrayed him, that she wasn’t Rolf’s daughter at all. But her voice was completely trapped.
Then came the pain of the shift, the fur tearing out of her, the bones breaking and reshaping, the howl ripping from her throat. She began to sob in her sleep, her shoulders shaking as the residual heartbreak of the confrontation mixed with the raw shock of her transformation. Tears slipped freely from beneath her tightly closed eyelids.
But there were arms around her. Steady, warm arms, holding her through it.
"Shh. You’re safe now. You’re safe. I’ve got you," a low voice murmured, soothing and certain. "Nothing can touch you here. You’re safe."
Slowly, the sobs eased. Her trembling body began to settle, the tension bleeding out of her under that calm, patient hold. And at last her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself staring up into Braxton’s face.
"Alpha Braxton," she said weakly.
Braxton smiled down at her. "Don’t you think we can drop all the formalities now? Considering we both know exactly who the other is."
Kira breathed out, a long, shaking breath of pure relief. The unbelievable reality of her lineage settled over her, but for the first time in her life, it didn’t feel like a curse, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Brother," she whispered.
Braxton’s smile widened, his expression softening with pride as he nodded. "Sister," he said.
For a moment, they simply looked at one another, the words settling between them like something that had always belonged there. Then memory came rushing back, and Kira’s smile faltered.
"Claudia," she said quickly. "Did she make it? Is she alright?"
Braxton drew a slow, heavy breath. "Claudia’s still unconscious. She has been since the night of the attack. The wounds were deep, and she’s only an omega. Her body needs time." He paused. "But she’s fighting. She’s strong, in her own way. We’re hopeful."
And that was when it struck Kira. Connor. She had not seen Connor.
Connor, who had literally thrown himself into a swarm of shadow monsters, putting his entire life on the line just to buy her a few precious seconds to run.
She shut her eyes against the fresh swell of grief and guilt rising in her chest.
Braxton squeezed her hand gently. "I’m sorry," he said quietly. "I’m so sorry it took me this long to protect you properly. To come for you. I was being careful, too careful, because of what you are. I kept telling myself that the truth would only put you in more danger. I should have done more, sooner."
Kira shook her head against the pillow. "Don’t. Claudia told me almost everything before all this. Even though... well, I still have a lot of questions about my mother, about Rolf, about everything." She swallowed. "But I understand why you waited."
"And every one of them will be answered," Braxton promised. "But not on an empty stomach, and not before you’ve had a proper bath and some rest." His brow creased with concern as he looked at her. "Looking at you right now, I can’t even begin to imagine the hell you’ve been through these past few days. You look like a gentle breeze could knock you over."
Kira couldn’t help but let out a small, dry laugh. He wasn’t wrong; her body felt like it had been run over by a carriage of rogue shifters. But curiosity won over her appetite for a brief second.
"How did you even find me so quickly?" she asked. "One minute I was running through Dravengard’s woods, completely losing my mind in my beast form, and the next thing, I’m lying here in your pack. How did you reach me before they did?"
Braxton smiled. "Well, I had a very clever little helper." He turned his head toward the door and called out. "Come in."
The door eased open, and a man stepped inside. Kira’s breath caught, and her eyes went wide.
"You?" she breathed.
Milo bowed his head, a small, almost shy smile on his face. "Yes, Your Highness. Me."
Braxton looked back at Kira. "Milo’s been watching over you for a long time now. On my orders. He’s the one who got you out of those woods before Derek’s gammas could reach you, and brought you here, to me."
Kira stared at the man she had once freed from a dungeon, the man whose sick child she had shown mercy to, never once imagining he had become her quiet guardian.
"We’ll leave you with the maids now," Braxton said, rising to his feet. "Let them get you bathed and dressed, whatever you’d like, nothing too taxing. Then come down for breakfast, and we’ll talk as long as you want. All the answers you need, I promise."
Kira nodded.
Braxton beckoned to Milo, who dipped his head once more to Kira before turning to follow. At the door, Braxton paused to address the two maids waiting nearby.
"Help the queen bathe, and dress her in whatever she chooses. Anything at all that she wants." His voice gentled. "And handle her with care. She’s been through more than anyone should have to."
The maids curtsied, and Braxton and Milo stepped out, closing the door softly behind them.
***
In his wing of the palace, Crane paced the length of his living room, hissing under his breath.
"What a plot twist," he muttered, turning on his heel. "What an absolute plot twist."
Kira, a white Lycan. He could scarcely wrap his mind around it. How? How was it even possible? Who in the goddess’s name had her father been? And if that was what she truly was, then why on earth had Rolf Thornclaw, of all people, raised her as his own?
He sank down onto a sofa, his expression turning thoughtful.
He remembered, now, all the times Lydia had pressed him.
I need the queen back. If you can create even the smallest opportunity to take her, do it. Bring her to me.
Over and over she had said it. And Crane had paid it little mind at the time, because Kira had never been his concern. His only concern, his single burning obsession, had been destroying his nephew and seizing the throne that should always have been his.
But now. Now he was beginning to see a far larger plot taking shape beneath everything. If Lydia had wanted Kira alive so very desperately, then why? What was the girl worth to her?
Could it be that Lydia had known all along exactly what Kira was? He had heard the whispers that the Queen’s wolf had been suppressed since childhood. Could Lydia have done that? Suppressed the girl’s beast, deliberately, for years? And if so, why?
And the deeper question, the one that made his skin prickle. Was Lydia a Lycan herself?
So many questions came at him all at once that a dull ache began to throb behind his eyes. He stood, crossed to a drawer, took out a pill, popped it into his mouth, and washed it down with the glass of water sitting on top.
He needed to work all of this out. And he needed to do it before Derek did. His nephew was far too emotionally wrecked just now to think clearly about anything, and that was a gift. An opening. Crane would seize it, restrategise, and turn this whole mess to his own advantage.
But first, he needed to find that useless son of his.
***
At the medical centre in Dravengard, Connor’s eyelids twitched, and his body shuddered as he dreamed.
He was back in it. Surrounded by Umbras, the restaurant a storm of shadow and teeth around him. And there, at the threshold of the back hall, stood Kira, staring at him with tears streaming down her face, refusing to go, refusing to leave him.
Your Highness! You must find your way home! I’ll hold these ugly bastards off right here! Go!
But as Kira turned to flee, Connor saw a larger shadow rising up behind her, swelling, reaching.
Your Highness, watch out! he roared, lunging toward her—
He gasped, and his eyes flew open.
The rest of the nightmare dissolved, and he was staring up at a bright, clean ceiling, the steady beep of machines all around him. He was in a bed. He was bandaged. He was alive. He was safe.
But what about Kira?
He tried to bolt upright, and a firm hand pressed him gently back down against the mattress.
"Easy, gallant warrior," Dr Lorenzo said, leaning over him with a relieved smile. "Lie still. You’ve fought well, better than well, and you’ve won. You’re safe now. Just rest."
Connor blinked up at him, his throat dry and cracked.
"I need to find the queen," he rasped.