​By the fourth day, the palace was vibrating with a restless energy. The guards were on high alert, and my husbands were hovering so close I felt like I was being escorted by a four-man infantry unit every time I went to the bathroom.

​Then, the chaos I’d been bracing for finally arrived.

​One of the Stormhole females, a younger tiger who had been looking particularly haggard, went into labor. But this wasn’t a peaceful, average delivery.

It was a screaming, frantic mess. Because she was malnourished and stressed from the journey, the labor was difficult, and her shrieks echoed out of the audience hall, bouncing off the stone corridors like a siren.

​"The healers! Send the healers!" Rakan’s voice could be heard bellowing from behind the closed doors.

​Naturally, my guards shifted their focus to assist the medical team I’d sent in. In the flurry of activity—medics rushing in with hot water and clean linens, and the tribal males crowding around the entrance—a single, shadowed figure saw her gap.

​Veyra.

​She didn’t care about the female in labor. She didn’t care about the ’future of the tribe.’ She saw the guards distracted, and she slipped through the heavy doors, her movements feline and quiet for a pregnant female.

​She moved through the servant passages, her breath coming in ragged, hateful hitches. She had spent four days sitting on a floor—heated or not—watching me live like a goddess.

The sight of my glowing skin and my devoted husbands had rotted what was left of her mind. She didn’t have a plan, not really. She just had a rock knife she’d hidden in her wraps and a singular, burning desire: if she couldn’t have this life, she would at least make sure I didn’t get to enjoy my ’perfect’ delivery.

Calling her a witch is an understatement.

​She reached the turn toward the Sovereign Wing, her eyes manic, her hand gripping the rock knife so hard her knuckles were white.

​But she didn’t get five steps further when a large hand clamped over her mouth, and another arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her off the ground before she could even let out a squeak.

​"Where do you think you’re going?" a deep, familiar voice hissed into her ear.

​Veyra thrashed, her eyes widening in terror as she was dragged back into the shadows of a storage corner.

When the hands finally released her, she spun around, the knife raised, only to find herself staring into the exhausted, disappointed eyes of Kaelor.

​"Brother!" she gasped, trying to tuck the knife away, but it was too late. "I... I was just looking for the kitchens!" She immediately turned on her lying mode. "I’m hungry, and the female’s screaming made me dizzy—"

​"Liar," Kaelor rumbled. He looked at her—really looked at her—and the last shred of the ’protective big brother’ facade finally crumbled. He saw the jagged stone knife in her hand, and he saw the murderous glint in her eyes that even her scars couldn’t hide. "You were going to her. Even now, when she has given us a roof and warmth, you were going to hurt her. Veyra, she is our sister for crying out loud."

​"She isn’t my sister!" Veyra spat, her voice a low, venomous hiss. "She’s a monster who stole everything! Look at me, Kaelor! Look at what her mate did to my face! Are you really going to stand by her after she ruined me?"

​"You ruined yourself, Veyra," Kaelor said, and his voice sounded like a man who had finally woken up from a long, bad dream. "Arinya was right. We all let you spin your lies because it was easier than facing the truth. But I won’t let you do this. Not today and not ever."

​"Get out of my way!" She tried to lunge past him, but there was only so much a heavily pregnant female can do and Kaelor grabbed her arm, his grip like iron.

​"If you take one more step toward that wing, I won’t wait for Fenric to finish the job," he threatened, his tiger eyes glowing with a dark, dangerous light. "I will drag you back to that hall myself and tell the Sea prince exactly what you were carrying to harm his mate and child."

They had heard the stories from the guards. Heard how I had saved the sea and how I put an end to the war in this kingdom. How everyone remembers me. How the mer folks call me Land mother and treat me as such.

And how I had taken the sea prince as my fourth mate.

And then there was how I subdued the caracals and made them out blacksmiths.

I had a lot of powerful beastmen on my side. I was powerful, and I was currently carrying the grandchild or children of the sea king.

Harming me would be the same as making an enemy out of the land they step on itself.

​Veyra froze. The mention of Thalor—and the cold, predatory aura he’d shown in the hall—was enough to make her knees buckle.

She knew Kaelor meant it. He wasn’t the ’adequate big brother’ to her anymore; he always preferred Arinya to her, after all.

​He didn’t let go of Veyra’s arm. Instead, he began dragging her back toward the audience hall, his face set in a mask of grim determination.

​"You’re going back," he muttered. "And you’re going to sit on that heated floor and stay there until she’s safe. If I have to tie you up myself, you will not move."

​As they reached the hall, the sounds of the labor were subsiding into the first, thin wail of a newborn cub. But Kaelor didn’t look at the new life.

He shoved Veyra back into the corner of the hall, far from the doors, not minding her own heavy belly, and stood over her like a silent, brooding gargoyle.

​He looked toward the Sovereign Wing, where he knew I was resting, and whispered a silent apology into the air.

​He didn’t expect forgiveness. He just wanted to make sure that for once, he was the one standing in the way of the monster.