Chapter 12
SERAPHINA
Four weeks.
The compromise was brutal but better than death: I’m stripped of my title as Crown Princess—at least publicly. I cannot leave the palace grounds. I cannot attend court functions. I exist in a strange limbo between princess and prisoner, my own parents my jailers.
And for weeks, I told myself the nausea was from shame. The exhaustion from depression. The tender breasts and dizziness just my body’s reaction to the severed bond.
But this morning, as I wake with my hand pressed to my mouth for the fourteenth day in a row, I can’t deny it anymore.
I barely make it to the chamber pot before I’m retching up the plain bread Elena managed to get me to eat last night. Elena, the only lady-in-waiting who didn’t abandon me after my disgrace. The only one Mother trusts to keep my secrets.
Luna stirs in my mind for the first time since the rejection, and there’s something in her voice I haven’t heard in weeks. Not quite hope, but… awareness.
“Something’s different,” she whispers. “Can’t you feel it?”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and sink onto the cool marble floor. My breasts are so tender I can barely stand fabric against them. The exhaustion is bone-deep. And the nausea comes every morning like clockwork.
My hands shake as I press them to my still-flat stomach.
“No.” The word comes out as a whisper. “Please, no.”
But even as I deny it, I know. The timing is perfect—or perfectly terrible. One night with Kieran, and now…
“Pup,” Luna whimpers, and suddenly she’s fully present in my mind, protective and fierce in a way she hasn’t been since he rejected us. “Our pup. We have to protect our pup.”
The chamber door opens, and Elena slips inside. She’s been bringing me food in secret, emptying my chamber pot, watching me grow paler and sicker each day. One look at my face, and understanding dawns in her eyes.
“Oh, Princess.” She kneels beside me on the bathroom floor. “How far along?”
“Does he know?”
“No.” I grip her hand so hard it must hurt. “And he can’t. Elena, please. No one can know. Not yet.
The court already wants me dead for breaking the treaty. If they find out I’m carrying the Ice King’s bastard—”
“His heir,” she corrects gently. “Rejected bond or not, that’s his child.”
“That makes it worse.” My voice cracks. “They’ll either try to use the baby as a political bargaining chip or kill us both to prevent complications. And Kieran—” I can’t finish the sentence.
Elena pulls me into her arms. “Your parents need to know.”
“I know.” The tears come then, hot and desperate. “But what am I supposed to tell them? They just saved me from execution. Now I have to tell them I’m pregnant with the child of a man who despises me?”
She holds me while I break apart on the bathroom floor, just like she’s held me through every nightmare, every panic attack, every moment I’ve wanted to give up these past four weeks.
When I finally pull away, my decision is made.
“Tonight,” I whisper. “I’ll tell them tonight.”
***
I spend the rest of the day trying not to panic.
Elena helps me dress in a simple gown of deep burgundy—one of the few colors that doesn’t make my complexion look like death. She pins my hair back from my face, and I catch my reflection in the mirror.
I look terrible. Thinner, with hollow cheeks and dark circles under my eyes that no amount of powder can hide. The rejection mark on my throat has faded from angry red to a silvery scar, but it’s still visible above the neckline of my dress. A permanent reminder of what Kieran did to me.
What we did to each other.
My hand drifts to my stomach again, and Elena catches the gesture in the mirror.
“You keep doing that,” she says softly. “Touching your stomach. Your wolf knows the pup is there, even if you can’t feel it yet.”
“Is it obvious?” Panic flutters in my chest. “Can other people tell?”
“Not yet. But soon, they will be able to smell it on you. The change in your scent. Wolves always know when one of their own is carrying.”
I close my eyes. “How long do I have before someone notices?”
“A few more weeks, maybe. Pregnancy scent doesn’t usually manifest until eight or nine weeks along. But Princess…” She meets my eyes in the mirror. “You can’t hide this forever. Eventually, your body will show what your scent already tells your wolf.”
“I know.” My voice comes out barely above a whisper. “I just need time to figure out what to do. How to protect this baby from—” I gesture vaguely. “Everything.”
Elena squeezes my shoulder. “Your parents will help. They love you.”
I’m not so sure. They saved me from execution, yes, but at what cost? Their own political standing is damaged. The treaty is destroyed. Men are dying in border skirmishes because of my choices.
As I leave my chambers and make my way through the palace corridors, I keep my head down. Servants press themselves against the walls as I pass, their eyes averted. No one speaks to me directly anymore. I’m the disgraced princess, a cautionary tale whispered about in corners.
I catch snippets of conversation as I walk:
“—heard she tried to seduce him, and he rejected her anyway—”
“—destroyed her own kingdom for a man who didn’t even want her—”
“—mark on her throat like a brand of shame—”
Each word is a knife, but I keep walking. Let them talk. Let them judge. They don’t know the whole truth, and they never will.
When I reach the family wing, the guards at my parents’ door nod but don’t speak. They know I’m expected. Elena sent word earlier that I needed to speak with them urgently.
I take a deep breath, press my hand to my stomach one more time, and knock.
They’re in Mother’s private sitting room, and the familiar space feels both comforting and suffocating. This is where I used to come as a child when I needed comfort, where Mother would read to me by the fire.
Father is reading reports while Mother embroiders, a peaceful domestic scene that I’m about to shatter.
“Seraphina.” Mother sets aside her embroidery and rises, concern immediately flooding her features. “Elena said you needed to speak with us. What’s wrong, dear?”
I force myself to stand straight, to meet their eyes even though every instinct screams at me to run. “I need to tell you something.”
The tone of my voice must alarm them because Father immediately sets down his papers and stands. They exchange one of those wordless looks that mated couples have, communicating volumes without speaking.
“Sit down,” Father says, gesturing to the chair across from them.
“I’d rather stand.” My hands are shaking, so I clasp them in front of me to hide it. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.”
Mother moves closer, her hand reaching for mine. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”
“I’m pregnant.” The words come out flat, emotionless. “With Kieran’s child.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Father’s face goes completely blank, that careful mask he wears when dealing with political disasters. Mother’s hand tightens on mine, her grip almost painful.
“Pregnant,” Father repeats slowly, like he’s testing the word. “With the Ice King’s child.”
“Yes.”
“How far along?” Mother’s voice is surprisingly steady, but I can see her mind racing behind her eyes.
“Five or six weeks. I started feeling sick on the journey home, but I thought it was just the rejection. The bond being severed. But the symptoms kept getting worse, and this morning I realized—” My voice breaks. “I realized what it actually was.”
Father moves to the window, his back rigid. For a long moment, he just stares out at the gardens, his hands clasped behind him.
Mother’s face goes pale. “Does anyone else know?”
“Only Elena. She figured it out this morning when she found me sick.” I grip her hand tighter. “No one else can know. Not yet.”
“This changes everything.” Father’s voice is flat, controlled. “Everything.”
“I know.”
“No.” He turns to face me, and I see the calculation in his eyes. Not anger, not disappointment—just cold political assessment. “You don’t understand, Seraphina. That child you’re carrying isn’t just any baby. It’s the heir to the Northern Kingdom. The product of a true mating bond, even a rejected one.”
“What does that mean?” My hand instinctively moves to protect my stomach.
Mother guides me to sit in the chair, then takes the seat beside me. “Children born from true mate bonds are rare and powerful. Even if the bond is rejected after conception, the child carries the strength of both bloodlines, both wolves.”
“Buthe rejected me,” I protest. “The bond is severed. Doesn’t that—”
“The bond between you and Kieran is broken,” Father interrupts. “But the bond between you and that child remains intact. Through you, the child is connected to Kieran’s bloodline even if he never acknowledges it.”
The implications hit me like a physical blow. “So the baby will be powerful.”
“Extremely.” Mother squeezes my hand. “And that makes it valuable—and dangerous. To both kingdoms, to political enemies, to anyone who wants leverage.”
“Which means that child is a target from the moment anyone discovers its existence.” Father moves closer, his expression intense. “If the court finds out, they’ll either demand execution or try to use the baby as a political bargaining chip.”
“And Kieran himself,” Mother adds softly. “He rejected you, but that child is his blood, his heir. He could demand custody—or see it as another complication and demand you get rid of it.”
“No.” The word comes out fierce, protective. My hand presses harder against my stomach. “No one is taking this baby from me. And no one is making me get rid of it.”
“We’re not suggesting that,” Mother says quickly. “We’re explaining the dangers so you understand what we’re up against.”
Luna stirs in my mind, her voice fierce and protective. “No one touches our pup. No one.”
“So what do I do?” I look between my parents. “I can’t just make the baby disappear. And I won’t get rid of it.”
They exchange another long look, having one of those silent conversations.
“You stay here,” Father finally says. “You keep the pregnancy completely secret. Only the three of us know, and whoever absolutely must know for your safety.”
“We’ll also need to bring in a healer we trust implicitly,” Mother says.
“Old Mara,” Father suggests. “She delivered you, Seraphina. She’s loyal to this family above all else, and she knows how to keep her mouth shut.”
Mother nods. “I’ll send for her tonight under the guise of treating your ongoing recovery from—” She pauses delicately. “From your ordeal in the North.”
“And when the baby is born?” My voice shakes. “How do I explain a child? The court already watches my every move. They’ll know the moment my scent changes, the moment my body starts to show.”
“We’ll figure that out when we get there,” Father says. “Right now, we focus on keeping you and the baby alive and safe. Everything else can wait.”
“But Kieran—” I can’t finish the sentence. The thought of him finding out, of what he might do, terrifies me.
“Kieran rejected you and sent you home,” Mother says firmly. “As far as the world knows, your connection to him ended the moment he severed the bond. There’s no reason for him to ever know about this child unless we tell him.”
“And we won’t tell him,” Father adds. “Not until we have a plan to protect both you and the baby from whatever consequences might follow.”
I sink back in my chair, feeling the weight of this new secret settle onto my already burdened shoulders. A child. Kieran’s child. Growing inside me even as the bond between us lies shattered and broken.
“Our pup,” Luna whispers fiercely. “We’ll keep our pup safe. No matter what it takes.”
“No matter what,” I echo out loud.
Mother pulls me into her arms, and I let myself be held like a child. “We’ll get through this,” she murmurs. “I promise you, Seraphina. We’ll find a way.”
But as I cling to her, feeling my father’s hand settle on my shoulder, I can’t shake the fear that’s wrapped around my heart.
Because I know the truth they’re not saying: there might not be a way through this that doesn’t end in tragedy.
