Jessica stood alone on the balcony, arms folded tight across her chest, staring out into the dark.

She had tried to reach Kira three times earlier. Each time, the same flat tone told her the phone was switched off. Of course it was.

Her best friend was off at some grand queens’ conference, mingling with the most powerful women in the realm, blissfully unaware that back at the palace, Jessica’s chest felt like someone had reached in and squeezed.

She needed to talk to someone. She needed Kira.

After Angelica had swept into Kai’s room that morning, towing that blonde girl behind her like a prize, Jessica had quietly excused herself and not gone back.

She had learned the girl’s name was Alicia. She had learned the way Angelica looked at Alicia, all warmth and approval, the exact opposite of the way she looked at Jessica. And she had refused, point-blank, to cry about it.

A knock came at her bedroom door, pulling her out of her thoughts. But before she could say a word, the door simply opened, and the sharp click of heels crossed the room.

Jessica glanced through the glass of the balcony door and saw exactly who it was.

Alicia.

She scoffed under her breath and turned back to the night sky.

Alicia stepped out onto the balcony, unhurried, and came to stand beside her.

Jessica did not turn. "What do you want?" she asked.

"I’ve come to speak with you," Alicia said smoothly. "Woman to woman."

She leaned forward against the balcony rail, the picture of ease.

Jessica said nothing.

"Kai and I go a long way back, you understand," Alicia went on. "Years. Our families, our parents, all of it. The bond between us runs very deep. Deeper than you’d know."

Jessica let out a quiet chuckle. "And why exactly are you telling me all this?"

"Because," Alicia said, turning her head to look at her, "Kai and I are going to be married one day. It’s all but settled. So whatever it is you imagine is happening between the two of you, it won’t go anywhere."

Her gaze flicked over Jessica, cool and assessing. "I heard you’re the werewolf queen’s little friend. I suppose that’s where the confidence comes from. You think that because your friend was fortunate enough to marry the king, it makes you something more than you are." Her mouth curved. "Don’t delude yourself, sweetheart."

For a moment, Jessica simply breathed. Then she smiled and finally turned to face Alicia fully.

"You know what? I appreciate your concern. Truly, it’s... touching." She tilted her head. "But until the day Kai himself stands in front of me and tells me otherwise, I’m going to go right on deluding myself. Happily. So you can save the speech."

Alicia’s smile froze on her face.

***

Across the palace, Derek returned to his bedroom after the long war council and found Kira’s reply waiting on his phone.

He read it, and a small smile tugged at his mouth despite the long day. He thought about calling her, then decided against it. It was late. She would be asleep by now, worn out from a hall full of curtsying Lunas.

Instead, he tapped out a quick message, telling her goodnight, and then a second, longer one, carefully explaining how to spot an Umbra. Ask them something only the real person would know. A name. A memory. He pressed send and hoped she would read it before tomorrow.

Then he began peeling off his suit, and as he shrugged out of the jacket, something small dropped from the inner pocket and clattered onto the floor.

The ring box.

Derek stared down at it, and only then remembered. He had promised to take it to the jeweller after work, and the whole day had swallowed him whole, the map, Bruce, Brian’s drowned car, the planning. He had completely forgotten.

He bent and retrieved it, turning the little velvet box over in his fingers, and set it carefully on the dresser.

Tomorrow, he told himself. After they dealt with Rolf and his cohorts. He would take it then, have it sized properly, and it would be ready by the time she came home to him. He liked that thought more than he expected to.

He changed out of his suit and into his war gear, pulling a long dark robe over the top, and left the room. The corridor outside was dim and quiet. He had not gone far when he stopped short, surprised.

Maya stood ahead of him in the hallway, small and still in her nightclothes, watching him.

Derek walked over and crouched slightly to her level. "Are you alright, little one?"

Maya nodded.

He softened. He assumed she was missing Kira; the two of them had grown thick as thieves. "The queen isn’t here just now," he said gently. "She’s away for a night or two. But I promise you, the moment she’s home, you’ll be the first person she sees. Alright?"

Maya nodded again.

Thinking the child must have wandered into the wrong wing in her sleep, Derek took her small hand in his. "Come. Let’s get you back to your bed before your grandmother frets."

But Maya tugged at his hand and would not move.

He looked down at her.

She gazed up at him with those strange, too-knowing eyes, and slowly shook her head.

"Please, don’t ride the waves of the storm," she said.

Derek froze.

He had never once heard the girl speak after her parents’ death. Not a single word. And now here she was, her small voice clear and steady in the dark corridor, saying something that made no sense at all and yet sent a cold prickle straight down the back of his neck.

Kira had been right all along that Maya speaks when she wants to.

"What did you—"

"Maya!"

Flora came hurrying around the corner, breathless, her dressing gown clutched closed at the throat. "Oh, goddess. Maya, there you are. You cannot keep doing this, child, wandering off and disturbing His Grace."

She reached them and dipped into a flustered bow. "I’m so sorry, Your Grace. So sorry. She sleepwalks sometimes. I turn my back for one moment, and she’s halfway across the palace."

Derek straightened slowly, his eyes still on the little girl.

"It’s quite alright, Flora," he said after a beat. "No harm done. Take her back to bed, both of you. Get some rest."

Flora bobbed another grateful bow, took Maya’s hand, and led her away down the corridor. Maya went without protest, but she turned her head once as she walked, and looked back at Derek over her small shoulder, her eyes lingering on him until they turned a corner.

Derek stood there a moment longer than he meant to.

Then he shook it off, pulled his robe tighter, and strode on toward the night and the work ahead.

***

Meanwhile, at the medical centre, Dr Lorenzo was finally getting a moment to himself.

He had been run off his feet all day, patient after patient, barely a chance to sit. Now, alone at last in his quiet office, he lowered himself into his chair with a tired sigh and reached for the stack of results that had come back from the lab.

He had sent off the blood samples himself, including the queen’s, to check against young Jerry, Sasha’s boy, the child with the rare condition who needed a match so desperately.

He slid the queen’s envelope open and began to read.

His brow furrowed.

He read further, and the furrow deepened, line by line, until he sat forward sharply in his chair, his tiredness gone entirely.

"Oh, goddess," he murmured.

Only the queen’s blood matched Jerry’s. Only hers, out of everyone they had tested. And that alone was strange enough.

But it was the rest of the result that made his blood run cold.

If the Queen is Rolf’s daughter, he thought, staring at the page in his hands, reading it again to be certain he had not misunderstood, then how, in the name of the goddess, is she a hybrid?