Chapter 55

Esther’s POV

The announcement hit like a blow even though I’d been bracing for it.

The palace press office had called a “routine morning briefing” in the marble atrium. Everyone came. Officers, healers, servants, and courtiers were all jammed under the tall glass roof as if drawn by some instinct. The space smelled of polished stone and fresh ink from the new banners strung across the balcony.

Amanda appeared on the second-floor landing as though she were already Luna. Red velvet draped her like spilled wine. Her hands cupped her stomach, flat still, but she displayed it as if it already swelled with life. Her hair glimmered under the skylight, perfectly curled.

“I thank you all for coming,” she purred. “I have joyous news for the Blood Moon Pack.” Her voice carried easily, trained for performance. “With the Alpha’s blessing, I am expecting a child. Our heir. The future of our pack.”

A wave of murmurs rippled below. Gasps. Some cheers. Some frowns.

I stood behind the last row of soldiers, white healer’s coat buttoned high, fists stuffed in my pockets. My stomach turned to ice.

Amanda let the noise build, then lifted a hand. “The Alpha will make a formal statement soon. But I felt it my duty to share our happiness with you all first.” She smiled down at the crowd as if sprinkling crumbs to pigeons. “And I trust everyone will treat our pack’s future with the reverence it deserves.”

Her eyes flicked once, deliberately, to where I stood at the back. A spark of triumph glinted there, small but bright enough to sting.

Kevin’s warnings whispered back to me: Nicholas can’t be trusted. Amanda will destroy you.

Around me the staff had already shifted, like iron filings to a magnet. Healers who once greeted me now glanced away. A soldier who’d joked with me two days ago muttered something under his breath.

By afternoon the shift became visible. Supplies I’d requisitioned were “misrouted.” My scheduled operating theater was suddenly “under maintenance.” An elder who’d praised my antidote last week now looked at me as if I’d tracked mud on his carpet.

Amanda herself swept into the hospital wing with her attendants, trailing perfume and smiles.

“Doctor,” she said sweetly, “I’ll need to review all medications prepared in this wing. We can’t risk any contamination while I’m in this delicate condition.”

“You’re not assigned here,” I replied evenly, though my throat was tight.

“Oh, but as Luna-to-be, I must take precautions.” She leaned closer. “Surely you understand.”

Her entourage tittered.

I forced a professional smile, though my pulse thudded in my ears. “Of course.”

“Good girl,” Amanda whispered and glided away.

Later, alone in the storeroom, I pressed my palms to the cool metal shelves and breathed hard. Sharon flickered in my chest like a candle struggling against wind. Not enough yet. Still dormant.

Carl’s face flashed before my eyes. I remembered his skin pale after the last collapse, Sofia’s small hand holding his. I couldn’t afford to be pushed out now.

Amanda’s tactics were clear: squeeze me until I broke. Make me lose access to the labs, to Nicholas’s protection, to any chance of waking Sharon fully.

I wiped my hands on my coat and stood straight.

“Not yet,” I whispered to myself. “You won’t win yet.”

Nicholas’s POV

I should have stopped her announcement. Should have said something, anything, before she staged her little coronation in the atrium.

But when Amanda swept into my office afterward, glowing with false humility and murmuring about “our child” and “the good of the pack,” I had only stared at her. The DNA test still burned in my desk drawer. Esther’s “betrayal” still burned in my chest. And Amanda had moved in for the kill, using my silence as permission.

So now the whole palace buzzed with it: Alpha’s heir, Luna’s rise, the glorious new chapter.

I sat behind the big oak desk, staring at the silver seal press. My hands were steady but my wolf stalked restlessly, claws scratching against bone.

Norman’s voice cut sharp. We know this is a trap. She’s not carrying our heir.

“She might be,” I muttered. The hangover from that shame-night still pulsed in my temples. “We gave her the chance.”

She slid into our bed. We didn’t choose her.

“We still let it happen.” I rubbed my forehead. “If she’s lying, we’ll find out. But the council already sees her as the mother of an heir. To denounce her now would destabilize everything.”

And so you crown her.

“I buy time.” My voice came out like stone.

The council chamber smelled of cedar and sweat. Elders lined the benches like vultures in robes. Amanda stood at my right hand, hands clasped over her stomach, the picture of radiant dignity.

I rose. My own voice echoed back to me in the vaulted space.

“You have heard the news. Amanda is carrying a child. As such, I will move to crown her Luna to ensure stability for the pack.”

A tremor went through the assembly. Applause broke out, the sound measured and cautious.

Norman growled inside me, low and constant. We’re lying. We’re chaining ourselves to her.

Amanda’s fingers brushed mine. A public gesture, subtle enough to look accidental but deliberate enough to stake a claim. She inclined her head, eyes shining.

I did not look at her. My gaze swept the chamber until it snagged on a figure in the back hallway beyond the arch. There was a familiar white coat, rigid posture.

For a moment our eyes met.Esther did not flinch. Her expression was blank as glass, but her knuckles whitened on the doorframe.

Something twisted under my ribs. Norman lunged. Go to her.

I finished the announcement quickly, voice clipped. “The formal ceremony will be in three weeks. Until then, maintain protocol.”

The meeting adjourned. Elders clustered around Amanda like bees around honey. She basked in it, murmuring thanks, letting their compliments flow over her.

I slipped out a side door.

The corridor outside felt too bright. I found Esther leaning against the wall, her face pale.

“You heard,” I said quietly.

Her eyes flicked to me but she didn’t move. “Hard not to.”

“She’s carrying a child.” The words tasted sour.

“So she says,” Esther murmured.

Norman stirred. Ask her why she looks so hurt. Ask her.

I clenched my jaw. “You’re not reassigned. Not yet. Do your work.”

Her lips parted, then closed. She turned away, shoulders stiff.

“Esther—” I started, but Amanda’s laughter rang from the hall behind me and the moment snapped.

Esther strode off without another word.

That night the palace dining hall filled with nobles celebrating Amanda’s “miracle.” I sat at the head table with a goblet of wine untouched before me. Amanda held court at my side, recounting some fabricated story of morning sickness and prophetic dreams. The elders laughed.

Norman snarled. We should leave.

“I can’t,” I muttered behind my goblet.

You’re letting her torment our mate.

“She’s not my—” I stopped. My chest ached.

Across the hall Esther moved among the servants, checking a tray of herbs for the kitchen. Amanda caught sight of her and smirked.

“Doctor Esther,” she called sweetly. “Do be sure these are safe for my condition. I’d hate for any mistakes.”

A ripple of chuckles rose from the nobles.

Esther’s face didn’t change. She bowed slightly, murmured something neutral, and walked away.

Norman’s hackles rose so high I could almost feel fur prickle under my skin. Do something.

I pressed my fingers to my temple. Not here. Not yet.

Amanda turned to me then, eyes glinting. “She does so want to be useful. One wonders why.”

I stared at her, saying nothing.

Later, alone in my private study, I threw the goblet into the fireplace and let it shatter. Sparks hissed.

Norman’s growl throbbed. This is a cage of our own making.

“I know.” My hands curled into fists.

Break it.

“I can’t. Not yet.”

I pictured Esther’s face as she stood in the corridor, pale but unbroken, and something inside me shifted. I had crowned Amanda in name, but the only one who could still shatter me with a glance was the healer walking my halls as if she were a ghost.

Norman pressed close. Then win her back.

“I’m too far gone,” I whispered.

Not yet. But soon.

I leaned back against the desk and closed my eyes. Amanda’s pregnancy loomed over the palace like a thunderhead. The gossip she seeded grew into vines that tangled around Esther every day. And I—Alpha King, feared predator—sat and watched, trapped by my own public promise.

Even as the trap tightened, a part of me began to plan.

Norman was right about one thing: this wasn’t over.