Congratulations, your majesty.  You are with child. The healer’s words rang in Octavia’s mind as she eagerly made her way towards her husband’s chambers.

Though Lionel had never once made her feel lacking for not becoming pregnant.  Months after months, year after year, the whispers at court had gotten louder.

Why is the queen not pregnant yet? What must the king think? Well, this was it.

She was pregnant now. The council would stop being concerned and the court would stop whispering.

But mostly Lionel was going to be so happy. He had never cared about the rumors, not the way she had.

But he did long to become a father. She imagined the way he would look when she told him.

The shock that would crack through his composure. He would pull her into his arms.

He would kiss her breathless. He would probably cry. She smiled at the thought. She was not broken.

They would have this. A family. She passed servants in the corridor, nodded absently at their bows,  barely heard the words they murmured.

Her mind was already ahead of her. Already in the room. Already watching him turn and smile and she stopped at his door and gaped.

His scent hit her first. The scent of his arousal. She knew it intimately because it was how he smelled when he wanted her.

There was something else beneath it. Something sweeter that made her stomach drop. The scent of a woman.

A woman that was not her. Then there was bare skin. So much of it.

The woman was sprawled across the sheets Octavia had woken in that morning. And Lionel, stripped down to nothing, was leaning over her.

The sound he made, low, rough, pleasure and hunger twisted together, was one Octavia knew, had heard a thousand times in the dark, in their bed.

That sound was hers. The woman’s fingers dug into his shoulder and he groaned. Gods, you feel His voice broke off into something wordless as the woman wrapped her legs around him.

And what if the queen finds out? She asked. Lionel laughed, breathless, almost drunk on it.

She won’t. And even if she did, he shifted, positioned himself, and the woman gasped.

I need this. He said, certain. I need an heir. She can’t give me one.

She’s barren. Three years and nothing. I’m fond of her. He managed. His voice tight with pleasure.

But this is necessary. The woman wrapped herself around him tighter, urging him on. And he gave himself over to it completely.

While Octavia closed the door carefully. Neither of them had seen her. She walked back down the corridor the same way she had come, nodding at the same servants, her face a mask of perfect composure.

But the pregnancy news she had come to deliver had turned to ash in her chest.

She made it to her chambers, closed the door, and then she stood in the center of the room and felt the world end.

I’m fond of her, he’d said. Her hand moved to her stomach, pressing against the place where the impossible was growing.

Lionel did not know. She clenched her fists. And he would never know. Because she would not give him this.

The letter took longer to write than it should have. Lionel, she wrote. I have been unhappy for some time.

I did not realize how much until recently. Court life does not suit me. This marriage does not suit me.

You need an heir. I cannot give you one. We both know this. I am leaving.

Do not follow me. This is better for both of us. Octavia. She did not mention the pregnancy.

The child was hers. This news, this joy, it was hers. And she would not give it to him.

She folded the letter, sealed it, and set it on the desk. Then she began to pack.

Somewhere behind her, her life was ending. And somewhere inside her, impossibly, another one was beginning.

Two other ones, actually. Though she’d find out about that later. Chapter 1 7 years later.

Remind me, Mama. Cora asked. Why are we even going to this ball? Octavia didn’t reply immediately.

She was busy staring at the invitation that sat on her vanity. Heavy, gold-edged, sealed with the royal crest she had once been entitled to use herself.

She had opened it three days ago in her sister’s drawing room and thrown a vase at the wall.

The crash had been deeply satisfying. I thought you were over him. Her sister, Lori, had said, looking up from her embroidery.

I am over him. Octavia had turned on her. Completely over him. I do not care in the slightest what he does.

I certainly do not care that he is getting married to Lady Emmeline of all people.

You’re shouting. Lori had said. I am not. Octavia stopped. I am perfectly calm. She had not, in fact, been calm.

She had paced the length of the drawing room twice, ranting about the audacity, the cruelty, the sheer, unmitigated gall of Lionel inviting her to watch him pledge himself to another woman.

But then Nilo had arrived, small and worried, asking what was wrong. And before Octavia could answer, Cora had barreled in behind him, blonde hair flying in wild tangles.

Are we breaking things? She’d asked. I love breaking things. That was three days ago.

Now Octavia stood in front of her mirror as servants tightened her gown. The dress was deep crimson silk, the color of wine and vengeance.

It clung to her tall frame like it had been painted on. She looked like a queen.

She looked like a woman who had moved on. She smiled. If Lionel wanted to rub his engagement in her face, she would rub her entire life in his.

She would walk into that ballroom and show him exactly what he had lost. She turned from the mirror to face her twins.

Listen to me. She said. We are going to this ball for one reason only.

To deliver the engagement gift and to pay our respects to his majesty the king.

You will smile. You will be polite. You will interact with no one. Nilo nodded seriously.

His small face grave. Cora opened her mouth. No one. Octavia repeated. And if anyone asks you questions, you say nothing.

You let them assume whatever they want to assume. Why? Cora’s eyes were sharp, curious.

Octavia hesitated. She could not tell them the truth. That their father would be in that ballroom.

That he did not know they existed. That she had spent seven years making sure of it.

The twins were hers. Everybody would see she had never been barren. But Lionel couldn’t know they were his.

Because, she said carefully, it is no one’s business but ours. Cora’s expression said she found this answer deeply suspicious.

But Nilo put a hand on her arm. Yes, Mama. He said immediately. Cora sighed dramatically, her whole body expressing her displeasure.

Octavia chose to interpret that as agreement. An hour later, she was bracing herself outside the ballroom.

Her heart doing something wild and erratic in her chest. She was going to see him.

After seven years of silence, seven years of absence, she was going to walk into a room and see Lionel’s face.

She wanted it. God help her. She wanted to watch his expression when he saw her.

Wanted to see the shock, the regret, the dawning realization that she had survived him.

She wanted him to hurt the way she had hurt. You’re sure about this? Flemings asked quietly.

His eyes kind but concerned. Octavia took a breath. Completely. The ballroom was exactly as she remembered it.

High vaulted ceilings, chandeliers dripping crystal, walls lined with silk and silver. She had helped plan events in this room once.

Now she stood in the doorway and felt the room notice her. It started as a ripple.

Heads turning. Conversations pausing. Then the whispers began, moving through the crowd like a current.

The Luna, she’s back? Someone asked. Are those her children? Someone else added. Octavia lifted her chin and took Flemings’ offered arm.

The twins fell into step beside her. Nilo on her left moving with careful precision.

Cora on her right barely containing the urge to skip. Together they walked into the room.

The crowd parted. Octavia felt every eye on her. Measuring. Assessing. Remembering. She had been their barren queen once.

She had disappeared without explanation. And now she was here, composed and beautiful, accompanied by two children no one had known existed, wearing a dress the color of a declaration of war.

This was what she had come for. This triumph. And then she saw him. He was across the ballroom, half turned away, speaking to someone she did not recognize.

Lionel. He had always been imposing. Tall and broad-shouldered with the kind of build that came from real strength, not vanity.

But time had changed him. His dark hair was cut shorter than he used to wear it, making the strong lines of his face more pronounced.

The warmth that used to live there. Easy smiles. The openness that had made him so beloved was gone.

What remained was colder. He looked like a king who had forgotten how to be anything else.

And then he turned and their gazes locked across the ballroom. For a moment, barely a second, his expression did something uncontrolled.

His eyes went wide, stunned, and what showed through was raw and unguarded and hurt.

Octavia’s wolf instinct, immediate and traitorous, screamed at her to go to him. She stood perfectly still and waited for it to pass.

It did not pass. She had built this entire plan around the image of his face when he saw her.

She had imagined rage, humiliation. She had not imagined this. He looked devastated. Then his expression closed.

He walked toward her. Each step measured, assured. The crowd parting before him without him having to ask.

He had always commanded a room. But before, his presence had been warm, magnetic. This was not that.

This was authority without warmth, confidence without invitation. He stopped in front of her. Octavia.

His voice was exactly as she remembered. Fancy meeting you here. Like she was a mildly interesting coincidence.

Like seven years was nothing and she was nothing in them. She curtsied. Your majesty.

It can’t be a total surprise seeing as you did invite me. Surprise flickered across his face.

I did? The invitation was quite clear. Ah, yes. He nodded. All noble families received invitations.

Standard protocol. A pause. Then that cold smile. I didn’t expect you to actually attend.

The words landed like a slap. He had not thought of her. Had not considered her at all.

The invitation had not been personal. It had been protocol. Well, Octavia said, her voice perfectly cool.

It would have been rude not to come. Congratulations on your engagement. Thank you. He tilted his head slightly.

That’s quite a dress. Red always did suit you. His voice shifted, almost casual. You wore red that night at the summer estate.

Do you remember? The summer estate. Their engagement night. He had proposed to her in the gardens at sunset, dropping to one knee in front of the rose arbor.

Hands shaking, eyes bright. Her throat went tight. I remember. We had that terrible wine.

He said. You made me drink the whole bottle anyway. She grimaced. Not the engagement.

The wine. How sentimental of you to recall. She turned slightly. Your majesty, may I introduce Duke Flemings, my escort for the evening.

Fleming stepped forward and bowed. Lionel acknowledged him with a nod that was just barely polite.

How nice. Lionel said, his attention sliding back to Octavia. And how long have you two known each other?

Octavia supplied smoothly. Oh, quite some time. Haven’t we, darling? Flemings did not flinch at the endearment.

Quite some time indeed. Lionel’s jaw tightened. But before he could respond, Lionel, darling, there you are.

Emmeline. Octavia remembered Countess Emmeline Doves. Of course she did. She had always been beautiful.

Had always been there, hovering at the edges of court functions. And she had always been in love with Lionel.

Even back then, Octavia had seen it. Emmeline. Lionel’s voice gentled slightly. I was just greeting an old friend.

So I see. Emmeline’s smile was warm. Lady Octavia. What a surprise. How wonderful to see you again.

She turned toward the king. Her hand sliding from his arm to his shoulder. Darling, we really should make the rounds.

My brother is keeping the council members busy, but Of course. Lionel nodded, but his eyes were still on Octavia.

We wouldn’t want to leave poor Ivor hanging. Emmeline’s eyes tracked across his face, his jaw, his mouth.

She had wanted him for years. And now she had him. Well, Fleming said quietly once they had gone.

That was awful. Octavia nodded. I was going to say tense, but awful works. He paused.

I think we should go. Where are the twins? They were just Flemings turned, scanning the crowd.

Right behind us. Octavia turned and found them. Nilo was being pulled by the hand, trying to slow Cora down as she moved through the crowd with singular focus.

Octavia’s stomach dropped when she realized where they were heading. To whom? Cora. She called.

Wait. But Cora was not waiting. She was already there, reaching up to tug on Lionel’s sleeve, on the sleeve of the alpha king, and looking up at him.

Excuse me. She said. Her voice carrying in the sudden silence. But you’re our daddy, aren’t you?

Octavia stopped breathing. People stopped talking. And the world just stopped. Chapter two. Lionel stared at the children.

The children stared back. Octavia’s mind was spinning. She had been so consumed by her own need for revenge, so focused on showing him what he had lost, that she had brought her children into this ballroom without once considering what they might do.

She moved quickly, forcing a light laugh that sounded hollow even to her own ears.

I’m so sorry, your majesty. You know how children are. Cora has always wanted to be a princess.

She’s decided every king must be her daddy. The lie was thin, transparently thin. Come along, both of you.

She tugged gently, trying to guide them away. Nilo glanced at Lionel one more time then obeyed, letting himself be turned toward the door.

Cora did not move. Cora. Octavia snapped. I’ve asked you a question, sire. Cora stomped her foot, pulling away from Octavia’s hand.

Are you our daddy or not? Octavia’s stomach dropped. Several people nearby had stopped pretending not to listen.

The whispers were starting. Lionel’s gaze lifted from Cora and locked onto Octavia’s. His face was pale.

And underneath the shock, understanding was beginning to dawn. He looked back down at the children.

You should listen to your mother. He said. Relief flooded through Octavia so fast her knees went weak.

Cora’s face fell, but she did not argue. Nilo was already tugging her hand and this time she let herself be pulled away.

Octavia turned quickly, gathering her skirts in trembling hands, and walked toward the exit with both children in tow.

The walk back to their suite felt endless. Nilo walked quietly beside her, his small hand clutching her skirt.

Cora would not stop talking. But why didn’t he answer? She demanded for the third time.

Octavia wanted to be angry with them. Wanted to snap that they had disobeyed her.

But she could not. Because this was her fault. All of it. She had brought them to that ball knowing Lionel would be there.

Knowing they looked like him. Knowing Cora was fearless and relentless and tired of secrets.

Mama? Nilo’s voice was small. Did we do something wrong? The question broke her heart.

No, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong. Soon, she kissed them both good night. Nilo’s forehead, Cora’s temple, even though Cora did not turn around, and closed the bedroom door softly behind her.

What had she done? The question circled through her mind, relentless and unanswerable. A knock at the door shattered the silence.

The servant stood there. Young, nervous. Lady Octavia, his majesty requests your presence in his study.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. What did he know? What had he figured out?

The children looked like him. That much was undeniable. But did he believe her flimsy excuse about Cora wanting to be a princess?

The servant led her down corridor she knew too well. She used to run down this hallway to meet Lionel.

Used to slip into his study uninvited just to steal a kiss. Now every step felt wrong.

The servant stopped outside the familiar door and knocked once. Enter. Lionel’s voice. Deep and commanding and achingly familiar.

She took a breath, lifted her chin, and walked inside. Lionel stood by the window, his back to her.

His shoulders were tense. The air between them was thick with seven years of absence and the weight of what had just happened in that ballroom.

Then he turned around and Octavia’s breath caught. She had forgotten what it felt like to have his full attention focused on her.

That particular quality that made the rest of the world fade away. Who are those children?

Lionel asked. Mine. She said. And their father? He took a step toward her. Where is he?

He’s not in their lives. The silence that fell was different now. Heavier. Then Lionel took another step.

And another. Until he was standing close enough that she could smell him. Her wolf whined.

She ignored it. “They’re mine,” he said, “my children.” Octavia opened her mouth. “You were pregnant when you left me.”

His voice was an accusation. “Did you know?” “Yes,” she said, “I knew.” What she wanted to say was “Yes, I was pregnant when you cheated on me and betrayed me to get your precious heirs.”

“Did you know?” But the words burned in her throat. Lionel’s face went pale. His mouth opened, closed.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” She forced herself to breathe. “I wanted to leave.

That’s all I thought about.” Lionel nodded slowly, visibly containing himself. “I want to meet them.”

“Who?” Octavia asked. His jaw tightened. “My children.” “They’re mine!” Octavia snapped. “I fed them and nursed them and sang to them and raised them!”

“And I would have done all of that, too, if I’d known they existed.” Octavia flinched.

Lionel’s chest was heaving, his hands shaking. She had never seen him like this. “You didn’t give me the chance.”

“Well, you didn’t think to check, did you?” She said. The words landed like a slap.

Lionel stared at her, stunned. And she watched something shift in his expression. “I didn’t think you wanted me to,” he said quietly.

The admission hung in the air between them. “I want to know them, Octavia.” His voice was imploring.

“Please.” She heard him step closer. “Red,” he said gently. “Look at me.” Her heart twisted so painfully she thought it might stop.

He had called her that when they were alone, when they were happy. She suddenly remembered the way he used to touch her, the sounds he made when she touched him back.

She flinched away from his outstretched hand like it burned. “It would disturb them,” she said quickly.

“Knowing you now.” “They came to me,” Lionel insisted. “They asked me if I They’re children!”

The words burst out of her. “They don’t know what’s good for them!” “And do you know what’s good for them?

Keeping them from their father?” Guilt crashed over her in a wave because he was right.

God help her, he was right. “Lionel, please, let me meet them. Let me show up for them.

They do have a father. I’ll show them.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“And you?” Octavia froze. The sincerity in his voice cut through every defense she had built.

This was Lionel, the man she had married, the man she had loved, the man she had lost.

“You don’t have to,” she whispered. “I want to.” The words were fierce, certain, absolute.

“One meeting.” She heard herself say. “Tomorrow.” The next morning Octavia stood in the sitting room with the twins, trying to calm her racing heart.

She had barely slept. Cora sat on the settee, swinging her legs restlessly. “Why didn’t he want to meet us before?”

She asked. “It’s complicated, sweetheart.” “Why didn’t he come find us? If he’s our daddy, why didn’t he know about us?”

Octavia had no answer for that. Not one she could give to a 6-year-old. Nilo was quiet beside his sister, his hands folded carefully in his lap.

“What if he doesn’t like us?” He asked softly. The question broke her heart. She crossed to them and knelt down, taking both their hands in hers.

“I will love you no matter what,” she said firmly. “Do you understand? You are everything to me.”

It was not the reassurance they needed, and she knew that even as she said it.

They did not need to know she would always love them. They knew that already.

They needed to know their father would. A knock at the door made all three of them jump.

Lionel looked different than he had last night in the study. The raw desperation locked back down behind something gentler.

He was nervous. “May I come in?” He asked quietly. He stopped a few feet from the twins, and Octavia watched his eyes move over them.

Then he knelt down, brought himself to their eye level. “Hello,” he said quietly. Both children stared at him, frozen.

Lionel’s throat worked as he swallowed. His hands were shaking slightly. He extended his arms, an invitation.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Nilo walked into Lionel’s arms. Cora watched them, her small face conflicted, her lip trembling.

With a small cry that was half sob, half laugh, she launched herself at Lionel, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face pressed into his shoulder.

Lionel caught her easily, pulling her close. Octavia stood frozen, her hand pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her face.

Chapter 3 Three weeks passed. Three weeks of Lionel with the twins while Octavia kept her distance.

She told herself it was to give them space, but that was only half true.

The thing was, she could not watch. She tried. That first afternoon she had stayed in the room while Lionel knelt on the floor with Nilo, showing him something with his hands.

Nilo had watched with enormous eyes, drinking in every word. And when he tried it himself and got it right, the way his whole face lit up, Octavia had excused herself.

The twins told her, though. At dinner, at bedtime, at breakfast, they told her what he had shown them, what he had said, what he had done.

Nilo reported quietly, carefully, watching her face as he spoke like he was checking for permission to be this happy.

His hero worship leaked through in the way he said father with careful reverence. Cora reported loudly, enthusiastically, with editorial commentary.

“And then father said I could ride his horse. His horse? Mama, the big black one.

But only if I promised to listen. And I did listen. I listened so well.

And he said I was a natural. “He let me hold his sword,” Nilo said quietly one evening.

“It was heavy. But he said that I was strong.” Octavia listened to all of it and kept her expression neutral.

She was touched, and she was wary. Because she remembered being exactly where Nilo was now, trailing Lionel with her eyes.

She remembered being swept up in him completely. She had been so certain of him, had never trusted anyone the way she trusted Lionel, and had never once questioned it because he had never given her reason to.

And then she had walked into that room. That was the thing she had never been able to resolve.

She could not reconcile the man she’d known with what she saw that night. It still did not make sense.

And because she had never understood how he could be both her mate and the betrayer, she did not know what to trust.

If she could not trust her own judgment, how could she watch her children love him the way she had loved him and not be afraid?

She knew what it cost to hand someone your entire trust and have them destroy it.

She would not watch her children learn that lesson through him. They were in the garden, Lionel and both twins.

Cora was hanging upside down from Lionel’s arm, shrieking with laughter. Nilo stood a few feet away, smiling in his quiet way, waiting his turn.

Octavia stood in the shadowed archway and watched. Lionel was not performing. He was not looking around to see if anyone was watching.

He was just with them, present, completely focused on the two small people currently destroying his composure, and clearly delighting in it.

He set Cora down gently, and she immediately demanded he do it again. He laughed, deep and genuine, the kind of laugh Octavia remembered from before, and told her it was Nilo’s turn.

When Lionel set him down, Nilo said something too quiet for Octavia to hear. Lionel knelt down to his level and replied just as quietly.

Whatever he said made Nilo smile widen. Octavia’s chest tightened. She knew that smile, had seen it on Nilo’s face so rarely.

He was a careful child, slow to trust, slower to show joy. Lionel had earned that smile in three days.

With Cora it was different. She asked him hard questions. “Why didn’t you come find us before?”

Octavia had been in the room for that one, had tensed, waiting for Lionel to deflect or charm his way past it.

He did not. He looked at Cora seriously and said, “I didn’t know you existed.

If I had known, I would have come immediately.” “Why didn’t you know?” The girl insisted.

A pause. Lionel’s eyes flickered to Octavia for just a moment before returning to Cora.

“That’s complicated,” he said quietly. “But it’s not because I didn’t want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Cora had frowned, clearly unsatisfied but unable to argue with the sincerity in his voice.

Another time she’d asked, “Do you love Mama?” Octavia had left before she could hear his answer.

The man who held Cora now, who looked at her like she was something miraculous, who took her seriously and met her exactly where she was, that man did not feel like someone capable of what Octavia had seen that night.

The thought had followed her for 7 years. And through all of it, there were small things between Lionel and Octavia.

Moments that accumulated like snow. He glanced over at her when the twins did something that made him laugh.

As though his first instinct was still to share it with her. She looked away every time.

But not always fast enough. The twins mentioned you used to love the rose garden.

He said once. His tone carefully neutral. I thought you might want to see it again.

She declined. Politely. He did not push. But there was disappointment in his eyes. He smiled at her sometimes.

Briefly. Not the cold carved smile from the ball. The real one. The one that used to make her heart skip.

It still did. She hated that it still did. Especially whenever Emmeline appeared. Today she came in with her brother by her side.

Her smile warm and perfect. Her hand settled on Lionel’s arm. Familiar and claiming. Darling, there you are.

I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Lionel turned, giving her a distracted smile before turning back to Nylo.

Sorry, Emmeline. What is it? The dressmaker is here for the final fitting. For the wedding.

Her fingers curled around his bicep. I told her we could meet her in an hour.

But she’s asking for you specifically. Right. Lionel said. Emmeline’s smile widened. She glanced at the twins.

Then at Octavia. And how lovely to see all of you together. Her brother said, though looking at Emmeline.

Like a real family. Octavia sat very still and felt the warmth of the last few minutes drain away like water.

Emmeline was being polite, but she was also going to be his wife. She would want children.

Legitimate heirs. Children of the king. And when those children arrived, what would happen to Nylo and Cora?

The question sat in Octavia’s chest like a stone. That evening, the twins told her about their day with Lionel in exhaustive detail.

When they finally wound down, she took a breath and said carefully, We’ll be returning home soon.

The silence that fell was immediate and heavy. Nylo went very still. How soon? A few days, maybe a week.

But Nylo’s voice was small. So soon? Cora did not go quiet. How will we see Daddy every day back home?

You can write to him. Octavia said. You can visit. That’s not the same. Cora’s voice was rising.

That’s not the same at all. I don’t want to leave. Why can’t we stay here?

She ran from the room. Her footsteps loud on the stone floor. Octavia closed her eyes.

Breathed. When she opened them, Nylo was watching her with an expression far too old for his face.

Mama. He said quietly. Why can’t we stay? It’s complicated, sweetheart. You always say that.

He sighed. But you never explain what it means. He stood and followed his sister out of the room.

Octavia sat alone in the silence they left behind and felt terrible. The next day, Lionel found her in the library.

Pretending to read a book she could not focus on. Cora said you’re planning to leave.

He said. She set the book down and met his eyes. What do you want me to say, Lionel?

I want you to explain why you’re taking my children away. They’re my children. Octavia.

He crossed the room, stopped a few feet from her. Please. Just talk to me.

You’re engaged. She said. You’re getting married in a matter of weeks. What exactly do you imagine happens after that?

You’re going to marry Emmeline. You’re going to have legitimate heirs. What happens to Nylo and Cora then?

They’re my children. Lionel said, frowning. Nothing happens to them. You say that now. But what about when you have other children?

Her voice was shaking. I will not let them build their entire hearts around a father who will one day have a new family to care about more.

I will not let them be slowly set aside. Made to feel like an afterthought.

Lionel stared at her. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet. Then I will cancel the engagement.

Octavia blinked. Excuse me? I’ll cancel it. The engagement. The wedding. All of it. He stepped closer.

I don’t want the life I’ve been forced to construct for 7 years in your absence.

I want my children. He stopped. Swallowed hard. And I want you. Octavia’s heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears.

I want you. He said again. I never stopped wanting you. She looked away. It’s too late, Lionel.

Red. His voice was gentle. Please. Look at me. She did. She couldn’t help it.

His pupils were blown wide. His breathing unsteady. I know I hurt you. He said quietly.

But I need you to understand. I would have done anything to keep you. If I had known what was wrong.

If you had just told me. Stop it. She said. She could not let him rewrite history.

If I had known what was wrong. As though he’d done nothing. As though he hadn’t betrayed his vows to her.

She wanted to throw it in his face. But the words stuck in her throat.

Because what if it had been her fault? It’s too late. She whispered. It’s not.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. Her breath caught. Then he kissed her. Or she kissed him.

She did not know who moved first. Did not care. All she knew was that his mouth was on hers and his hands were in her hair.

And 7 years of distance collapsed into nothing. She could not make herself pull away.

Had spent 7 years telling herself she was over him and it was a lie.

All of it. Because the moment his lips touched hers, she was 23 again and desperately in love.

His hands cupped her face and she opened for him without thinking. The sound he made, completely undone, sent heat spiraling through her.

He walked her backward until her spine hit the bookshelf. His mouth moved from her lips to her jaw.

Her throat. She felt him smile against her skin. God, I missed you. He breathed against her neck.

His hands tightened on her hips. She arched into him and made a sound that was half sob, half moan.

His hand found the laces at the back of her dress and started working them loose.

Her head fell back against the shelf. Then he stopped. Pulled back. His chest was heaving.

His eyes were dark. Wait. He said. His voice rough. Wait. I I want to do this right.

I owe it to Emmeline. To break things off first. Before we Octavia stared at him.

But I will. He said quickly. I’ll break it off. Right now. I’ll She just stared at him.

He owed it to Emmeline. He owed it to Emmeline to break up with her before sleeping with someone else.

But he had not owed Octavia the same courtesy. Octavia, I swear. I’ll end it.

Right now if you want. I just I need to do it properly. She deserves that much.

She deserves that much? Octavia repeated. She slapped him. The crack of it echoed in the quiet library.

Lionel’s hand fell from her face. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Octavia shoved past him and ran.

Chapter 4 Octavia pressed her hand to her mouth. Forcing the sobs back down her throat through sheer willpower while her other hand fumbled with the door handle.

The bodice of her dress hung loose where Lionel had been unlacing it moments ago.

Where his hands had been on her bare skin. I owe it to Emmeline. He had said.

The sobs tore out of her. Violent wrenching sounds that shook her entire body. She had been so stupid.

Letting him kiss her again. Kissing him back. Melting against him like she was still that naive girl who believed in forever.

And he had stopped. He’d stopped because he owed Emmeline the courtesy of a clean break.

Emmeline got respect. Got honesty. What had Octavia gotten? She had found him with another woman.

Without a word of warning up front. But Emmeline deserved better? The unfairness of it was suffocating.

The sound from the bedroom cut through her spiral of grief. The twins. They were here.

If they heard her crying, they would come to check on her. And she could not let them see her like this.

They would wonder what was wrong. They would blame themselves. She would not do that to them.

She wiped her face with shaking hands. Took a breath that caught painfully in her chest.

Another breath, slightly steadier. She threw a shawl over her shoulders to hide the loosened dress and turned toward the bedroom.

Both twins stood in the doorway watching her with wide, worried eyes. Mama? Nylo’s voice was small.

Are you all right? I’m fine, sweetheart. Octavia said, and the lie tasted like ash on her tongue.

Cora’s eyes narrowed. Her small face skeptical. Octavia turned away before either of them could press further.

She crossed to the wardrobe and began pulling things out with mechanical efficiency. They needed to leave.

Now. Tonight. Before she could second-guess herself. What are you doing? Cora asked, her voice suspicious.

Packing. Octavia said without looking at her. Why? Cora took a step into the room.

Because we’re leaving. Now. Tonight. For a moment, there was only silence, heavy and thick.

Then Cora’s voice cracked. What? No. We can’t leave. We can and we are. Octavia kept her back to them.

Kept folding. Kept moving. Go get your things from the sitting room. Both of you.

But we don’t want to leave. It’s not fair. You can’t just make us leave without telling us why.

Cora, that’s enough. Mama, please. Nilo’s voice was quiet, shaking slightly. Can’t we stay? Just a little longer?

No. Octavia said. And the word came out harder than she intended. But why? Cora demanded.

Tears streaking down her face. We just found father. He wants us to be a family.

Why don’t you? The words stabbed through Octavia’s chest like a blade. It’s not that simple.

Yes, it is. Cora shouted. Her small body vibrating with fury and hurt. He’s our father.

He wants to be with us. Cora, enough. He wants to be a family, Mama.

Nilo said quietly. And there was such desperate hope in his voice it made Octavia’s chest ache.

He told us. He said he wants us. All of us. Why can’t we Stop.

Octavia snapped. Both children went silent. He’s a liar. Octavia murmured. He can’t be trusted.

What? Nilo whispered. He lies. Octavia’s voice was shaking. He makes you believe things that aren’t true.

He makes you trust him completely and then he What does that mean? The voice came from the doorway.

Deep and hoarse and completely wrecked. Lionel stood there. One hand braced against the frame as if he needed it for support.

His eyes red-rimmed and wild. What does that mean? He asked again, shakily. That I’m a liar.

That I can’t be trusted. Octavia winced. Not here. She said. But Lionel stepped into the room, almost stumbling.

His eyes fixed on her face. What did I ever do that made you believe you couldn’t trust me?

He murmured. Rage flooded through her like fire. How dare he stand there looking wounded and confused?

You know what you did. She screamed. How can you look at me and pretend you don’t know?

Lionel’s face went blank with shock. Mama? Cora asked, voice tiny and frightened. Octavia looked at her.

At both of them, standing there watching their parents. She could not do this in front of them.

Go to the library. She said. Both of you. Now. But Cora started. She’s right.

Lionel said, his voice firm but gentle. Listen to your mother. The twins looked between their parents, then slowly, reluctantly, left.

After the door closed with a soft click, Octavia and Lionel stared at each other across the room.

Were you really going to leave? He asked quietly. Were you even going to say anything this time?

There’s nothing to say. Octavia said, and turned back to the packing. She grabbed another dress from the wardrobe.

Her hands shaking so badly the fabric slipped through her fingers. So that’s it? Lionel’s footsteps crossed the room.

You’re running away again? Running away? She spun to face him. What else was I supposed to do?

You were supposed to talk to me. To communicate instead of leaving when And what did you expect my feelings would be, Lionel?

She spat. After catching you in bed with another woman? Lionel froze. The color drained from his face.

For a long moment he did not move. What? He asked. The word came out barely audible.

Oh, you didn’t think I knew? Octavia laughed. Well, I knew. How do you think it felt?

Finally learning I was pregnant only to find you with another woman because you stopped believing I could?

Octavia. It broke me. The words tore out of her chest. She was crying. Tears streaming down her face.

You pursued me. She said. Do you remember? I didn’t want to fall for you.

I had built walls specifically to protect myself from men like you. Charming, powerful men who said pretty things they didn’t mean.

Her voice broke. You swore you would never love another. And I believed you. She drew a shaking breath.

I loved everything about you. Your laugh. So open and genuine. Your warmth. The way you made people feel seen.

I loved waking up next to you. I loved the way you said my name.

And then I walked into that room. She said. The words barely intelligible. And I saw you with her.

I heard the sounds you were making. Sounds I thought belonged to us. I heard you talking about how your wife was barren.

What are you talking about? Lionel interrupted, eyes wild. Octavia, I never slept with anyone else.

Her breath caught. Silence. Absolute crushing silence. What? He was denying it. Standing there looking her in the eye with his face pale and his eyes red.

Denying what she had seen with her own eyes. For one terrible, destabilizing moment, doubt crept in like poison.

Did I misunderstand somehow? No. She remembered. The woman’s gasps. The way the bed moved.

That low, helpless sound he made when pleasure overtook him. She had seen his face.

Heard his voice. But then why was his face so pale and drawn? Why did his eyes look so devastated?

I never betrayed you. Lionel said, reaching for her. Octavia, I swear to you. You’re saying I made it up?

She cried. No. I’m saying I never cheated. You’re the one who left without saying goodbye.

Oh, I’m sorry. She said. Should I have fought for you? Should I have provoked your lover into a duel?

Would that have been the proper protocol? I never took a lover. He implored. You’re the one who left.

You’re the one who was unhappy. I was He stopped. His throat working. I was devastated to find you gone.

It broke my heart. He looked wrecked. Completely, utterly destroyed. Unable to look at him anymore, Octavia turned away.

Don’t go. She heard him whisper. I’m asking you not to go. I didn’t before.

I should have I won’t have you lie and charm your way into my children’s hearts like you did mine only to break them later.

She said. His chest heaved. I won’t. He cried. I never forgot you. I never stopped loving you.

Seven years and I never His voice broke completely. You think I would ever stop loving my own children?

For one terrible, disorienting moment, she was confused again. But she had seen it. She had seen him with that woman.

I don’t believe you. She said. You can’t even admit what you did. Lionel stared at her.

His mouth opened. Closed. I’m going to find our children. She said quietly. And then we’re leaving.

Not forever. We’ll correspond. You will see them. Just not right now. I can’t be here right now.

Octavia. His voice broke on her name. She forced herself to move. Wiped her face with trembling hands.

Steady her breathing as much as she could. Which was not much at all. The children.

She needed to get them from the library. She opened the door on shaking legs and walked down the hallway.

One hand trailing along the wall for balance. The library was empty. Nilo? She called, her voice echoing.

Cora? Silence. Nothing but the ticking of a clock and her own ragged breathing. Her children were gone.

Chapter five. The library was stupid. That was Cora’s first thought as she stomped across the polished floor.

Her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The whole place was stupid. All tall shelves and boring books and uncomfortable chairs that were too big for her.

She kicked at the leg of one as she passed it. Unsatisfied when it did not even wobble.

This is stupid. She announced to Nilo. All of it. Mother is being stupid. Nilo looked at her with those careful eyes of his.

Cora. He began. She is. Cora spun to face him. Her hands balling into fists.

I don’t understand her. Why would we leave? Not only is this castle bigger than Aunt Lori’s, but Mommy clearly loves Daddy still.

Nilo grimaced. Agreed on both counts. But Mother looks sad sometimes. He said softly. Cora paused.

Some of the heat leaving her. She did not want her mother to be sad.

She just thought her mother was determined to be sad. Which was different and much stupider.

She wouldn’t be. Cora said finally, lifting her chin. If we were all a family again.

Nilo opened his mouth to respond, but the library door opened and both children turned.

Their father walked in. Relief flooded through Cora immediately. Daddy! She started toward him, but something made her stop.

He did not smile, did not open his arms, just stood there in the doorway with a face that was completely neutral.

Blank. Do we have to leave? Cora asked, her voice smaller than she wanted it to be.

Please say we don’t have to leave. I don’t want to go. Can you talk to mother?

Their father was quiet for a long moment, just looking at them. Then he sighed.

Actually, children, I think it would be best if you left. Cora froze. She looked at Nilo.

Nilo stared back at her, his face pale. What do you mean, Daddy? Cora asked slowly.

His face remained blank, expressionless in a way that made her stomach twist. Court is no place for you, that’s all.

You know, I’m about to get married to the love of my life. Something in Cora’s chest loosened.

You’re remarrying Mom? She exclaimed. That’s great. Nilo said, his face lighting up for the first time since they had entered the library.

Their father’s face fell, not in disappointment, in something else. Something that looked almost angry.

No. He said flatly. I’m marrying Countess Emmeline Dove. Cora blinked. Who? She asked. That lady who follows Daddy around.

Nilo said quietly to her. Cora’s nose wrinkled. The maid? She’s not a maid! Their father exclaimed, his face twisted in anger.

She’s my dearest friend, my one true ally, the woman I love! Cora turned to Nilo confused.

Do you think he’s joking? Surely he’s joking, right? Nilo looked uncertain, his brow furrowing.

But father, you don’t love Lady Emmeline like you love mother. He took a cautious step forward.

You said so yourself. Their father’s eyes widened. I No, I did not! He protested.

Yes, you did! Cora said, her voice rising. You told us mother was your true love, that you never forgot her, that you wanted us to be a family again.

She could see it in her memory. Her father kneeling down to their level just days ago, his eyes bright and sincere as he told them about their mother, how much he missed her, how he had never stopped loving her, not for a single day.

She remembered the way he looked at their mother when he thought no one was watching.

Tears burned in Cora’s eyes. You love our mother. She said. Her father’s face contorted into something ugly.

No, you’re lying! He cried out. Nilo grabbed Cora’s hand and pulled her back a step.

You’re the one who’s lying. He said quietly, but his voice was firm. Cora stared at her father.

The way he held himself was not quite right. Too rigid, too controlled. And his eyes, his eyes were wrong.

They were the right color, but they were looking at her wrong. Her father had never looked at her like that.

You’re not our daddy. Cora decided slowly. She looked at Nilo for confirmation. Her brother nodded once, sharp and certain, still pulling her backward.

He was watching the man in front of them warily, his body tense. He looks like father.

Nilo said, his voice low and urgent. But he’s not our father. The man’s face twisted with fury.

Come back here! He lunged toward them. We need to find mother. Cora said, pulling Nilo after her.

They ran. Cora’s legs pumped as fast as they could, Nilo just ahead of her.

They headed for the door, but the man was faster, cutting them off. They pivoted, racing between the tall shelves, weaving through the library.

Behind them she could hear him, heavy footsteps, breathing hard, getting closer. A hand grabbed her arm.

Cora screamed. She twisted, saw Nilo ahead of her, his face white with fear. He had stopped running and was turning back toward her.

Run, Nilo! Cora shouted. Run! Nilo hesitated, his feet frozen, his eyes locked on her.

The grip on her arm tightened painfully. Run! Cora screamed again. For a moment he just stood there, and Cora thought he was going to try to come back for her, which was the stupidest thing he could possibly do.

Then he understood. His small body shimmered, compressed. Fur rippled across his skin. Within seconds, a small wolf pup stood where her brother had been.

Pride surged through Cora even as she struggled against the grip on her arm. It was his first shift.

He had been working on it with their father for days, and he had done it.

That’s it, Nilo. She shouted. Keep the pace. Don’t turn back. Ah, shut up, you ungrateful The man’s hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her words.

Cora did not hesitate. She bit down, hard. The man yelped, a sound that was not like their father’s voice at all, and his hand jerked away.

She tried to run, but he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Cora found herself staring up at a changing face.

Features rippled like water, shifting and reforming before her eyes. The sharp jawline softened. The broad shoulders narrowed.

The person standing in front of her was still wearing her father’s clothes, the shirt hanging loose now on a smaller frame, but the face above them was not her father’s face.

Cora screamed. Chapter 6 Octavia was moving through the castle corridors at a near run, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

The library had been empty. The sitting room had been empty. The conservatory, the study, the drawing room, all empty.

Her children were nowhere. Where are they? Panic was rising in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She needed to find them. She should go to Lionel, get help, call the guards.

Mother! Octavia spun around. Nilo stood at the end of the hallway, his small chest heaving like he had been running.

His face was pale, his eyes too wide. Nilo! Relief flooded through her so intensely her knees went weak.

She rushed toward him. Where’s your sister? Where’s Cora? Come quick! Nilo grabbed her hand and pulled, his small fingers tight around hers.

Cora’s in trouble. Octavia’s blood went cold. What? Nilo, sweetheart, let me call the guards.

No! Nilo’s voice came out sharp, panicked. He pulled harder on her hand. We can’t.

They can’t be trusted. I don’t know who’s in on it, but the guards can’t help.

We’re all in danger. Sweetheart, I don’t understand. Octavia said, but she was already moving, letting him pull her.

What’s happening? Hurry, please. Nilo’s voice cracked. They have her. They took Cora. Terror seized Octavia’s chest.

She stopped trying to understand and just ran, following her son through corridors she barely recognized, down a stone staircase, through a heavy door into passages she had never seen before.

Nilo, where are we? I saw them take her this way. Nilo said, his voice high and frightened.

Hurry! Octavia could smell it now, Cora’s scent, faint but unmistakable. The particular sweetness of her daughter’s skin mixed with fear.

Fresh fear. Recent. Octavia’s wolf surged to the surface, protective and furious. Her vision sharpened.

If someone had hurt her daughter, the passage opened into a long gallery lined with cells.

Most were empty, their doors hanging open, but at the far end, Cora! Her daughter was in the last cell, small and crumpled on the floor, chains wrapped around her wrists, a gag tied across her mouth.

When she saw Octavia, her eyes went wide and she shook her head frantically. No.

No. No. I’m coming, sweetheart. Octavia ran toward the cell, her hands already reaching for the bars.

I’m going to get you out of there. She looked around desperately for a key, for something to break the lock.

Behind her, Nilo had gone very quiet, but she barely registered it. All she could see was Cora, her baby, chained like an animal.

An adult shadow rose behind her. Octavia caught the movement in her peripheral vision and started to turn, but she was too slow.

The blow to the back of her head came hard and sharp. Everything went black.

Consciousness returned slowly, accompanied by a throbbing pain radiating from the back of her head down through her neck.

Octavia groaned, tried to move, and realized she could not. Her wrists were bound by heavy chains.

Octavia’s eyes snapped open. Cora sat beside her, still chained, the gag removed from her mouth.

Are you all right, my love? Octavia said, forcing her voice to be steady. It’s all right.

I’ve got you. She tried to shift. If she could just change, just become wolf, she could break these chains.

Nothing happened. The chains were spelled. They had to be. Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she shoved it down.

She needed to think. Footsteps echoed in the passage outside, and Octavia’s head snapped up.

A figure appeared at the cell door, backlit by torchlight. Countess Emmeline? Octavia gasped. The woman looked immaculate, as always.

Dark hair, perfectly arranged. She gazed down at Octavia with something that looked almost like pity.

Octavia. Emmeline said, her voice gentle. Such a shame you couldn’t stay gone. Octavia’s mind struggled to make sense of what she was seeing.

Are you the one who locked my daughter up? Her voice rose with each word until she was nearly shouting.

Unfortunately, I had no choice in the matter. Emmeline said calmly. No choice? Octavia pulled against the chains.

Are you insane? And where’s Nylo? What did you do to him? He’ll be caught soon, I’m sure.

Emmeline said. My brother is looking for him. The thought of him chasing her small son through these dark passages made something feral rise in Octavia’s chest.

You tell your brother to stay away from my son. Octavia snarled. Or what? Emmeline asked, her voice sweet.

You’re locked up, Octavia. Octavia pulled harder against the chains. Not for long. You can’t possibly believe Lionel would stand for this.

Why would he intervene? Emmeline said pleasantly. When he believes you and the children to be long gone.

Octavia froze. What? He thinks you’ve left. Emmeline said. Taken the children and departed for your sister’s duchy.

Why would he check down here? He wouldn’t just take your word for it. Octavia said.

He’d want to check. Oh, absolutely. Emmeline said, nodding. He would, wouldn’t he? She paused, tilting her head.

Unless Unless what? Octavia demanded. Emmeline smiled. Unless you say goodbye to him yourself, Octavia.

Tell him harshly enough that you want to leave. That you never want to see him again.

That he’s forbidden from contacting your children. She sighed. Resigned. He could never resist your tears, you know.

He’ll do whatever you ask if you cry prettily enough. Octavia shook her head in disbelief.

I’m not about to go ask him not to see his children, and I’m not going to start crying on command.

Oh, I think you will. Emmeline said. And then she changed. The transformation happened so fast, Octavia almost missed it.

One moment Emmeline stood before her. The next her features were rippling, shifting, reforming into someone else.

Suddenly, Octavia was staring at herself. Her face, her hair, her exact height and build.

It was like looking into a mirror. The false Octavia’s face crumpled into tears. Lionel.

She sobbed. You have to let me go. Seeing you hurts me. Being near you hurts me.

You’ll hurt the children, too. Please. Let us go. Enough. Octavia interrupted, her voice strangled.

The false Octavia stopped mid-sob, smiled, and then her features rippled again, reforming back into Emmeline.

You’re a changeling. Octavia said, barely above a whisper. She had heard of them. Shifters who could not turn into animals, but into other human beings.

Stories told to children. She had never believed they were real. If that’s what you want to call me.

Emmeline said with a shrug. Realization crept in like ice water. How many people can you actually change into?

Anybody I want. Emmeline said easily. I turned into your son earlier. You didn’t even notice.

Octavia went pale. Nylo. The boy who had let her here. Who had pulled her into these passages.

Don’t beat yourself up. Emmeline said. When you don’t know to look out for it, it’s almost impossible to notice.

She grimaced slightly. Though, your children did notice when I tried to impersonate their father.

Octavia turned to Cora, who nodded, her small face grave. Unlike you. Emmeline added. The words landed slowly.

Then all at once. Unlike me? When did she ever And then, like lightning striking, she realized.

She had never been able to reconcile them. The man who had loved her so completely with the man who had coldly cheated on her.

The devoted husband with the casual betrayer. They had never fit together in her mind.

Because they were not the same person. It was you. Octavia said, her voice blank with shock.

The night she caught him cheating. The night that had destroyed her. It hadn’t been Lionel.

Yes. Emmeline said simply. Octavia felt like the floor had dropped out from under her.

I spent so much time watching him. Emmeline said. Something almost dreamy in her voice.

His mannerisms. How he talks. It wasn’t hard, actually. The difficult part was convincing him to let you go.

Your letter helped. But he tried to come after you that morning. Where was he?

Octavia’s voice came out as a snarl. While you were impersonating him. Where was my husband?

Drugged. Emmeline said calmly. In another room. Couldn’t risk him waking up before you were long gone.

Octavia saw red. How dare you? She pulled against the chains with all her strength.

Drugging my mate, impersonating him. And then impersonating you? Emmeline finished. He begged you to come back, you know.

He thought the pressure of court was making you unhappy. He even offered to abdicate.

She laughed, and it was a sad sound. I thought perhaps I could pretend to be you for the rest of our days.

He’d never know, and I’d finally have him. But I want him to love me for myself.

Her smile turned brighter. I was there for him all those years he spent not getting over you.

The council wanted him to remarry. I offered. I told him I was all right with him never forgetting you.

Her face fell slightly. Of course, I didn’t think you’d show up with two children.

Octavia was still pulling on the chains. Let us go. Right this instant. Not yet.

Emmeline said. Not before you agree to help me. He’s not going to marry me now.

Not when he knows his children want him. Help me. Convince him otherwise and disappear.

Never. Octavia said flatly. Stay away from him. Emmeline’s expression hardened. Either you help me have Lionel, or I kill your children.

Starting with Cora, so you know I’m serious. Octavia’s blood ran cold. And then what?

You think Lionel will let you live once he finds out? He won’t find out.

Emmeline’s voice rose for the first time, losing some of its careful control. This is your last chance.

Promise to help me, or you all die. Octavia looked at her carefully. At the desperation underneath the threats.

You don’t really want to hurt us. She said slowly. Emmeline’s face twisted. No, I don’t.

I don’t want to hurt you or the children. But I’ve worked too hard to be with Lionel.

Her voice turned imploring. What we have is special, Octavia. In the long run, he’ll be so much happier with me.

The thought of Emmeline touching Lionel made nausea rise in Octavia’s throat. She could not let this woman anywhere near her mate.

But right now, chained and trapped, she needed to buy time. Let me think it through.

Octavia said carefully. Emmeline nodded, satisfied. I’ll give you until morning. She turned and walked away.

Her footsteps echoing down the stone passage. Octavia waited until the sound faded completely. Then she turned to her daughter.

I’m not going to help her. She said quietly. I promise you, Cora. I’m going to get us out of here.

She just had to figure out how. Chapter 7 Octavia sat in the darkness of the cell, her mind racing through possibilities and discarding them just as quickly.

Beside her, Cora was still gagged, her small body pressed against Octavia’s side. It’s going to be all right, sweetheart.

Octavia whispered, though she had no idea if that was true. I’ll get us out of here.

I promise. Cora made a muffled sound against the gag, her eyes urgent. A sound in the passage made them both freeze.

Footsteps, small ones, patting softly across stone. A small blond wolf pup appeared at the cell door, his green eyes bright in the darkness.

Nylo. And he was carrying keys in his mouth. Relief crashed over Octavia so powerfully, she felt dizzy with it.

The pup wagged his tail once, then shifted. Within moments, Nylo stood there in his human form, holding a set of keys in his small hands.

I got the keys from the guard station. He said quietly. They didn’t see me.

Oh, my clever boy. Octavia breathed. Nylo fumbled with the lock, his small fingers shaking.

It took three tries, but finally the cell door swung open. The moment she was free, Octavia reached for Cora’s gag, untying it with trembling fingers.

Cora gasped as soon as it was off. Mama. I know, sweetheart. Octavia pulled both children into her arms.

Are you all right? Both of you? We’re fine, Mama. Nylo said, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

I bit the fake father. Cora said with satisfaction. Hard. Despite Octavia felt her mouth twitch.

Good girl. She stood, her legs unsteady. Her mind was already moving, planning. They needed to get out of here.

“We have to go get father.” Cora said, as if reading her mind. “We will.”

Octavia said. “But first, I need to get you both out of here. There’s a servant’s passage.”

“No.” Nilo said quietly. Octavia looked at him in surprise. Nilo rarely contradicted her. “We’re not leaving without you.”

Cora said fiercely. “And we’re not leaving without father.” “Cora, this woman is dangerous. I can’t let you”

“That’s why we’re coming with you to help.” Cora interrupted, her small chin jutting out stubbornly.

Octavia looked between them. Her brave, stubborn children who had already been through far too much.

“There’s a trapdoor.” Octavia said finally. “In the old chapel. Do you remember where that is?”

Both children nodded. “I want you to go there and wait for me. If I don’t come back in an hour, I want you to run.

Get to the stables, take horses, ride for your aunt’s duchy and don’t stop. You’re in charge of getting back up.

Do you understand?” Cora scowled but nodded. Octavia led them through the passages, up the stairs, into the chapel.

She showed them the trapdoor hidden beneath the altar cloth, watched them climb down into the tunnel below.

“One hour.” She said. “If I’m not back, you run.” She closed the trapdoor before they could argue.

Then she turned and ran for the main hall. She needed guards, needed witnesses, needed to stop Emmeline before she could do whatever she was planning with Lionel.

She found three guards in the corridor, standing at attention. “The Countess Emmeline has committed treason.”

Octavia said without preamble. “She is a changeling. She has been manipulating the king. Come with me immediately.”

The guards exchanged glances, but followed. Octavia’s authority as the former Luna still carried weight, it seemed.

They moved through the castle quickly, Octavia following her instincts. The throne room, the king’s chambers, somewhere public enough to be seen but private enough to She heard voices ahead.

Emmeline’s voice and Lionel’s. Octavia burst into the hall and stopped dead. Emmeline stood in the center of the room, pressed against Lionel’s chest, crying softly against his shoulder.

His arms were around her, holding her close. When Lionel looked up and saw Octavia, his face went cold, hard.

“Emmeline told me everything.” He said, his voice unforgiving. “How you tried to hurt her.

How you attacked her out of jealousy.” Octavia’s mouth fell open. “What? No, that’s not”

“She told me you would deny it.” Lionel said. He held Emmeline tighter. “That you would try to manipulate me.”

“Lionel, listen to me.” Octavia said desperately. “She’s the one who” “Seize her.” Lionel said to the guards.

The guards moved toward Octavia. But she was not looking at them. She was looking at Lionel.

The way he stood, too stiff, too formal, the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, the way his eyes did not quite track right when he looked at her.

Now that she knew what to watch for, “You’re not Lionel.” Octavia exclaimed. The guards paused, uncertain.

“He’s impersonating the king. You have to” “What are you talking about?” Emmeline pulled away from the false Lionel.

“Of course he’s” A small blond blur shot into the room. Nilo in wolf form launched himself at the king, small teeth sinking into his arm.

The king yelped, a sound that was not Lionel’s voice at all. Too high, too sharp, and jerked away violently.

His features rippled, shifted, changed. Within moments, a different man stood there, clutching his bleeding arm, tall, broad-shouldered, with unremarkable features twisted in pain.

“Iver.” Emmeline gasped, her face draining of color. Cora ran in behind her brother, slightly out of breath.

“We figured out causing them pain makes them switch back. Not very good shifters, if you ask me.”

The guards stared in shock, hands on their weapons, but uncertain where to point them.

“These two are changelings.” Octavia said, her voice shaking with barely controlled fury. She pointed at Emmeline and Iver.

“They’ve been impersonating the king.” She turned to them, her voice dropping to something cold and dangerous.

“Where is Lionel?” Emmeline turned to Iver, her face pale and confused. “Yes, Iver. Where is he?”

Iver grabbed a sword from one of the stunned guards, his face twisting with desperation.

“They won’t find him. I can take his place. No one has to know.” “Iver, no.”

Emmeline said. “We don’t need him, Emmeline. Don’t you see? We can have the throne.”

“I don’t care about the throne.” Emmeline screamed. “Where is Lionel?” “I’m not telling you.”

Iver said flatly. “If we don’t give him the antidote, he won’t wake up.” Emmeline said desperately.

“I know.” Iver said. And there was something cold in his voice, final. The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Octavia moved. She grabbed a sword from another guard and put it to Emmeline’s throat before anyone could react.

“Where is he?” Her voice was very quiet, the kind of calm that came before violence.

Iver stared at her defiantly and said nothing. But Emmeline began to cry in earnest, real tears streaming down her face.

“All I wanted was for me and Lionel to be happy.” She sobbed. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

“Countess.” One of the guards said quietly, shaking his head. Everyone knew he was never over the Luna.

The words seemed to break something in Emmeline. Her shoulders slumped. “I can track him.”

Cora said suddenly. “Me and Nilo can track father.” “Worth a try.” Octavia said. “But we need the antidote first.”

She pressed the sword harder against Emmeline’s throat. “Where is it?” “In my chambers. The blue vial on my dressing table.”

One of the guards ran to get it. Nilo put his nose to the ground, his small body quivering with concentration.

Within moments, he was moving, following a scent trail that led out of the hall, down a corridor, toward a part of the castle Octavia had never explored.

Cora ran beside her brother, keeping pace. Octavia followed with two guards, the third staying behind to watch Emmeline and Iver.

They reached a hidden door, so well concealed in the stone wall that Octavia would never have found it without Nilo’s nose.

Cora ran her hands over it, found the catch, pushed it open. Beyond was a narrow passage leading down into darkness.

They descended carefully, the guards holding torches high. At the bottom was a small room, cold and damp.

And in that room, sitting in a chair, staring at nothing, Lionel. He was alive, breathing, but his eyes were vacant, unseeing, staring straight ahead as if looking through the walls, through the world, at something none of them could see.

“Are we sure it’s the king?” One of the guards asked nervously. “I can recognize my own father, thank you.”

Cora said indignantly. Nilo, still in wolf form, made an agreeing huff. Octavia was already moving, dropping to her knees beside Lionel’s chair.

“Lionel.” She said softly, cupping his jaw. His skin was warm, but he did not react.

“Lionel, can you hear me?” Nothing. He didn’t even blink. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m so sorry for everything. For leaving, for not trusting you, for thinking” Her voice broke.

“You never betrayed me. You never stopped loving me. And I should have known.” The guard returned with the vial, slightly out of breath.

Octavia took it with trembling hands and uncorked it, the sharp medicinal smell making her nose wrinkle.

“Please.” She whispered, bringing it to Lionel’s lips. “Please come back to me.” She tipped the liquid into his mouth slowly, held his jaw closed, massaged his throat until she felt him swallow reflexively.

Then she waited. The seconds stretched into eternity. Then Lionel blinked. His eyes focused slowly, like someone waking from a very deep sleep.

They moved around the room, confused and disoriented, taking in the guards, the stone walls, the children.

Then they landed on her face. Recognition dawned like sunrise, slow, then all at once.

He smiled. “Octavia.” He whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m here.” His hand came up slowly.

“Forever?” “Yes.” Octavia said, laughing and crying at once. “Yes, forever. I promise. I’m never leaving you again.”

Beside them, Cora and Nilo crowded close. They were whole. They were together, as they always should have been.

Epilogue. One year later. The twins were playing in the garden, their laughter echoing off the castle walls.

Octavia watched them from the window of Lionel’s study, their study now, her hand resting absently on the swell of her belly.

Seven months along. A girl this time, the healer said. “You’re smiling.” Lionel said from behind her, his arms coming around to rest on top of hers, his chin settling on her shoulder.

“They’re happy.” Octavia said softly. “Listen to them.” Below, Cora was trying to teach Nilo some elaborate game that involved a lot of running and shouting.

Nilo was losing, as usual. But he did not seem to mind. “They are.” Lionel agreed.

His hand spread across her stomach, feeling for movement. “We all are.” The baby kicked as if in response.

Lionel’s smile widened. It had been a year since they found him in that hidden room.

A year since Emmeline and Iver had been tried and sentenced. She for obsession and deception, for impersonating the king and queen, for seven years of calculated manipulation.

He for conspiracy, for attempting to seize the throne, for nearly killing Lionel with his refusal to reveal the antidote’s location.

They were locked away now, in separate cells, in separate prisons. Emmeline had cried throughout her trial.

Ivar had shown no remorse at all. Octavia tried not to think about them. Most days she succeeded.

Red? Lionel’s voice pulled her back. He turned her gently to face him, his hands cupping her face.

Where did you go? Nowhere, she said. But she knew he could see through the lie.

He always could. I was just thinking, she admitted quietly, about how much time we lost.

We can’t change it. His thumb brushed across her cheekbone. We can only move forward.

I know. She leaned into his touch. But sometimes I think about what we missed, what the children missed.

They had talked about this many times over the past year. The guilt they both carried, hers for leaving, for not trusting him, for keeping his children from him.

His for not fighting harder, for letting her go, for believing the lies Emmeline had shown him.

Some nights they still woke reaching for each other, needing the reassurance of touch, of presence.

The children are happy, Lionel said gently. We’re together now. It was true. Cora and Nilo had adapted to their new life with remarkable ease.

They had their father. They had their mother. They had a home that was whole instead of fractured.

That was enough for them. We should try to be more like them, Octavia said.

We should, Lionel agreed. The baby kicked again, harder this time. They both felt it.

Through the window, Cora’s triumphant shout rang out. Nilo laughed, picked himself up off the grass, and chased after his sister with renewed determination.

Lionel’s arms tightened around Octavia. She leaned back against him, and let herself feel the weight of him, the warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

I love you, he said against her hair. Forever. Forever, she agreed. And for the first time in 7 years, she believed it without reservation.

Hi everyone. Thank you so much for listening. I hope you enjoyed the story. And before you go, I’ve just released a brand new exclusive on my Patreon, The Alpha of the Cursed Castle.

A runaway bride, a mysterious castle, and a man trapped in the same night for 200 years.

If you’d like to discover it, the link is in the description. Thank you for being here, and I’ll see you very soon.