POV: Soraya
The palace felt heavier today—stone walls thicker, corridors longer, guards more watchful. Wolves whispered like silk along the stairwell while I moved through the halls, every step echoing past the wound in my chest. News of Azhara’s pregnancy had already spread, crawling like smoke under every door, curling into every rumor and every knowing gaze that followed me.
I had barely slept. Vienne stayed with me until my breathing steadied, until the shaking stopped, but she couldn’t soothe the part of me that ached with something far more complicated than jealousy. It was betrayal, but not because he fathered a child with Azhara. It was the night it happened—the violation of it, the forced potion, the hallucinations she trapped him in.
And the knowledge that now, regardless of the circumstances, she would remain tied to him.
I forced myself forward, spine straight, steps measured. I hadn’t wanted to come here. I didn’t owe Azhara anything. I shouldn’t have been the one to face her after everything she’d done.
But the elders asked for a statement from me, and that meant I was forced to look her in the eye.
Two palace guards flanked the chamber door. They bowed stiffly when I approached but didn’t meet my gaze—whether in fear or discomfort, I couldn’t tell.
“She’s expecting you,” one muttered.
I stepped inside.
Azhara’s private chamber had been stripped of its elegance. The silk curtains remained, but they hung limp, robbed of their former glory. Several of her ornate cosmetics and jewelry pieces had been cleared away. The guards posted inside watched her every twitch.
Azhara sat on the edge of her bed, ankles bound by a thin silver brace that would burn her if she tried to shift. Her wrists were free only because she had agreed not to resist. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders like ink, framing a face that looked strangely calm.
Almost serene.
She lifted her gaze when I entered, amber eyes gleaming—not with fear, but satisfaction.
“Well,” she said lightly, “if it isn’t the desert’s precious moon-mark.”
I ignored the venom and stood before her. “The elders asked me to confirm what happened when you approached me in the halls. They want to know if I pushed you.”
“Of course they do.” Azhara leaned back on her hands, her golden bangles chiming faintly. “But they also know the truth. They know you didn’t push me.”
The honesty startled me. “Then why—”
“Why lie?” She tilted her head. “Because it worked. For a time. The pack turned on you again, didn’t they?”
I swallowed, anger twisting under my ribs. “You put the pack at risk. You poisoned their trust. You nearly killed me.”
Her smile sharpened. “I would’ve succeeded, if that idiot Kaide hadn’t been watching.”
I froze, breath catching.
She said it with no shame. No hesitation.
No remorse.
“I see your surprise,” Azhara hummed. “But surely by now you know what happens when the moon chooses an outsider. Wolves panic. Packs crumble. Alphas lose their minds. I was doing what any loyal Ashra daughter would do.”
“You lied,” I whispered.
“And yet?” She spread her hands. “Here I am. Still carrying the future heir.”
The words stung more than I expected. Azhara watched them pierce me, her smirk widening.
“You look pale,” she cooed. “Does it hurt, little Zehrael? Knowing I carry his child? Knowing that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many powers ignite inside your skin, you will never be what I am already?”
“It’s not a contest,” I said through my teeth.
Azhara gave a humorless laugh. “Everything in this empire is a contest—bloodline, loyalty, legacy. That child binds me to Raevan in a way you never could. In a way he cannot escape.”
I inhaled slowly, steadying my voice. “That child wasn’t conceived willingly.”
Her eyes glittered with sickening triumph. “I never said it was. I only said it exists.”
My stomach twisted. I wanted to leave, to breathe, to scream—to do anything but stand here and listen to her. But something in her tone shifted, growing colder, almost too calm.
“You should cherish whatever time you have left,” Azhara murmured. “Soon everything will change.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
She leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper that slithered under my skin.
“Zarek will come, Soraya. He always does.”
My pulse thudded.
Azhara watched my reaction with the interest of a viper watching prey twitch. “Did you think you could run forever? Did you think hiding behind Ashra walls would keep you safe?” She shook her head, her smile widening. “Zarek is not finished. He never is. And you… you belong to him far more than you ever belonged to Raevan.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I said, voice trembling with anger.
“Of course you do,” she said sweetly. “You’re Zehrael-born. A walking prophecy. A prize the desert would bleed for. You think Zarek will stop after one raid? One threat? He will burn Ashra to the ground before he lets Raevan have you.”
Her eyes flicked downward, hands brushing her stomach.
“And when you’re gone—maybe dead, maybe dragged back in chains—we will still be here. Raevan and I. With our child.”
Pain rippled through me, sharp and suffocating.
I forced myself to stand taller. “If you think carrying his child will protect you from your actions, you’re wrong. The elders won’t overlook attempted murder.”
Azhara smiled again, but this time it was smaller. Sadder. Almost sincere.
“You think I’m afraid of them?” she murmured. “You think any punishment they give me is worse than watching him love you?” Her jaw tightened. “You’re the one thing I cannot poison. The one thing I cannot remove. And it’s killing me more slowly than any cell ever could.”
Silence fell.
Azhara leaned back, closing her eyes. “Tell your elders the truth,” she said softly. “I don’t need your lies to damn me. Fate already did.”
I turned away before she could see the ache in my eyes.
Before she could see the crack her words left behind.
As I reached the door, Azhara’s voice followed, low and certain:
“Zarek is coming, Soraya. And when he does… no power you possess will save you.”
I didn’t look back.
But her certainty haunted every step I took toward the hall.