Before Olivia could sit up, the door creaked open. A tall shadow stepped inside, moving with measured steps.
Jason.
His usual rigid posture was the same, but something in his stance was different—softer. The flickering candlelight illuminated his face, and for once, his cold, unreadable expression held something unexpected.
Warmth.
His sharp, calculating gaze lingered on her longer than usual.
"I never knew you were a wolf," he murmured. "No one saw you. Your secret is safe with me."
Olivia's throat tightened.
Jason never lied to Queen Khloe. Never.
Why was he doing this now?
She tried to speak—to thank him, or to demand why—but nothing came out. Her body still trembled from the transformation.
Jason studied her, his piercing eyes making her uneasy.
She swallowed hard. "Please don't tell Her Majesty about this."
Jason's face remained unreadable, his silence stretching between them like an unspoken truth. His sharp gaze weighed her, judging, deciding.
Then, without a word, he reached behind him and tossed a neatly folded bundle of fabric onto the bed.
"Put this on."
She blinked at the simple tunic and trousers, then met his gaze again. "And my sword?"
Jason exhaled through his nose, almost amused. "Not there when I found you."
Olivia frowned. That sword had been with her for years.
"I'll get you a new one," he said, voice calm but firm. "Look for your old sword later."
She hesitated. There was something strange about how he was treating her.
Jason had never been kind to anyone who deceived the queen. Ever.
Yet, here he was—handing her clothes, shielding her secret, offering her a new weapon.
Why?
Before she could ask, he held out a small cup filled with a dark liquid.
"Drink this. You look pale. Don't add to Her Majesty's worries."
Olivia stared at the cup, then at him. "Why are you doing this?"
Jason's expression didn't change. "Drink."
She took the cup. The bitter liquid burned her throat, but warmth spread through her veins almost immediately.
Jason remained standing, arms crossed, watching her in silence.
Too much silence.
He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just stood there, staring.
It was unnerving.
She shifted under the blanket. "I want to get dressed."
Jason didn't move.
Olivia cleared her throat, forcing herself to look him directly in the eyes. Then, she glanced down at her chest.
Jason's face turned red.
His reaction made her stomach twist—and not in fear.
Heat crawled up her neck. She wasn't supposed to feel this. Not toward him.
Not toward a nobleman.
She was a slave, lucky enough to work beside him. Nothing more.
Jason turned away, jaw tight.
Olivia exhaled, steadying herself as she slipped into the fresh tunic and trousers. His presence lingered. Even with his back turned, she could feel the tension in the room. Something unspoken had settled between them.
She pushed it aside. There were more pressing matters.
As soon as she was dressed, she made her way to Queen Khloe's chamber.
---
The Palace in Chaos
The moment Olivia stepped into the grand corridor, she knew something was wrong.
The palace was in chaos.
Guards rushed past her. Maids whispered in frantic voices. The air was thick with tension.
She quickened her pace, weaving through the long hallways, until she reached Khloe's chamber.
The doors were wide open.
Inside—disaster.
Shattered glass littered the floor. A table had been overturned. The scent of spilled ink and burnt parchment filled the air.
And at the center of the wreckage stood Queen Khloe.
Her back was rigid, fingers clutching a crumpled letter so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
The storm in her golden eyes was unreadable.
At her feet, two ministers knelt, trembling. Their robes were stained with wine from shattered goblets around them.
Jason stood beside her, arms crossed, face unreadable once more.
Olivia hesitated at the threshold.
Then Khloe's gaze snapped up.
Fury. Betrayal. Disappointment.
"Where have you been?" Khloe's voice was sharp, cutting through the tense silence like a blade.
Olivia swallowed hard.
She opened her mouth to answer—
But Khloe wasn't looking at her anymore.
Her gaze had locked onto the ministers, and it burned with rage.
"Explain." The single word was soft—but lethal.
The ministers flinched.
"We—we didn't know," one of them stammered. "Your Majesty, please, we were only following orders."
Khloe's hand curled into a fist. "Whose orders?"
Silence.
Then—a scream.
A maid came rushing through the doors, face pale.
She fell to her knees before Khloe, shaking. "The governor's province—" she choked out. "It's under attack."
The room froze.
The very province whose governor had looked so well-fed at Khloe's wedding.
Now—under attack.
Olivia's stomach dropped.
Khloe's breathing turned shallow.
She crushed the letter in her hands, her fury shifting into something colder. Sharper.
Determination.
She turned to Jason. "Summon the Prime Minister. Now."
Jason bowed and disappeared through the doors.
Khloe's eyes flicked to Olivia.
A silent order.
Olivia nodded, already moving.
Her body was still weak, her bones aching from her transformation, but she ignored it.
She had no time for weakness.
Because this wasn't just war.
This was something darker.
Something worse.
And Khloe—Khloe was fighting something far greater than an enemy army.
Her mind.
Her soul.
The room hadn't been destroyed in a fit of rage.
It was a battlefield.
Between the human, the vampire, and the witch within her.
Three voices. Three instincts. All clawing for control.
And the queen, standing in the wreckage, was barely holding herself together.
Olivia's breath hitched.
Khloe's hands trembled at her sides.
Her golden eyes flickered—briefly shifting into something unnatural. Something monstrous.
A glimpse of fangs. A flicker of dark veins beneath her pale skin.
Then—gone.
Her control was slipping.
And the kingdom had no idea that the girl they had crowned was fighting a war within herself.
A war she might not win.