They said I looked like royalty.

What a load of crap.

My old man pinches every penny like it’s the last damn coin on Earth. A man so straight-laced, he makes the Bible look lenient. A guy like that starting a revolution? Yeah, right.

I told the fortune teller to screw off and kicked him out the gate.

But that night, I climbed over the estate wall for a little freedom, and boom—ran straight into my dad walking hand-in-hand with a woman under the moonlight.

She looked suspiciously like the First Lady.

I was so rattled, I ran straight to Nathan’s place. Before I could knock, I heard voices.

“You gonna keep sneaking around just to steal kisses from the Queen Regent?”

My vision went dark.

We were so screwed.

Chapter 1

Shit. Maybe that fortune teller wasn’t totally nuts.

My father—Mr. Elias Rivers—was known across the country as the cleanest damn watchdog in the whole federal council. If he’s screwing around with the First Lady, he’s not just betraying the KING. He’s practically signing our death warrants.

A shadow flickered through the crack in the door. I ducked behind the rock garden, heart hammering.

Inside, candlelight flickered. Two silhouettes—way too close. I held my breath.

Nathan stepped back. The other guy—tall, cloaked in a black coat stitched with something that shimmered—turned and left, disappearing into the dark like smoke.

Gold thread.

My head smacked the stone behind me, hard. I wanted to gouge my own damn eyes out. My father was eyeing the First Lady, and my brother… the KING?

This wasn’t just treason. This was suicide—family-size.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, Nathan’s voice drifted from behind me, smooth and low:

“Why don’t you come in?”

RIP me.

He dragged me inside by the collar like I was a stray pup. I plastered on my most pitiful smile.

“Big bro! I swear I didn’t see anything! Nothing at all! You believe me, right?”

He stood there, arms folded, half-lit by the candlelight. Jaw tight. Cold and beautiful like a goddamn executioner.

Damn it, he really was handsome. No wonder the young KING was sniffing around.

Before I could spiral, Nathan poured me a cup of tea and said casually, “What brings you sneaking over this late?”

I blinked. Right—the other bomb.

“I saw Dad with the First Lady. In the garden. Under the moon. Is he trying to stage a coup or what?!”

Halfway through the sentence, I froze.

Because… wasn’t Nathan also doing coup-adjacent things?

I wanted to slap myself.

He paused, lips twitching. “You’re just now figuring that out? You do realize neither of us are actually his biological kids, right?”

What?

Apparently, we were both orphans he took in. Loyal Mr. Rivers, raising other people’s leftovers while plotting to sleep with the Queen and seduce the King.

What. The. Actual. Hell.

Next morning, Nathan was still calm as hell—like I hadn’t caught him halfway into a political scandal and possible love triangle.

Dad was quiet too, sipping his coffee like the newspaper headlines wouldn’t be about our public executions next week.

Cool. Cool cool cool.

Chapter 2

KING Julian Whitmore had taken the throne young—barely fifteen. And the old-money elites in Congress hadn’t stopped trying to control him since.

Lately, they were getting bolder.

Which meant Dad and Nathan, as two of the KING’s closest allies, were rarely home. And every time they left, I half-expected to find a federal warrant nailed to the door when they came back.

Then came the invitation—from the Queen Regent herself.

“Do I have to go?” I asked, staring at the engraved card like it was a bomb.

“Of course you do,” Nathan mumbled, lounging under the ivy arch with a book over his face. “The Queen’s just trying to pull the loyalist families in closer. Political damage control.”

So, if I didn’t go, it’d look even worse.

“Fine,” I hissed. “I’ll go.”

The annual Spring Garden Banquet was a staple for the elite. This year was no different. All the aristocrat ladies showed up in their best lace and silks, pretending not to hate each other.

Me? I hid in a corner, praying no one would notice me.

“Her Grace is arriving!” came the steward’s call.

We all stood.

She entered—young, regal, twenty-something and dressed like she owned the entire continent. Technically, she kind of did.

Our eyes met.

Shit. She saw me.

I dropped my gaze so fast I nearly sprained my neck. The Queen Regent’s stare lingered like ice down my spine.

“Ladies, be seated,” she said gently.

The garden was full of early blooms—roses, tulips, orchids. Smelled like power and perfume.

I slinked to the back.

Then someone tapped my shoulder.

A well-dressed girl, about my age, was giving me the once-over with a sneer.

“Well, well,” she said with a fake smile. “Your father and brother suck up to the KING enough, but you? Flirting with the Queen already? Guess that’s how your family keeps getting those favors.”

Her tone was sharp, bitter, full of old-money venom.

Ah. A Vaughn girl. That made sense.

“You mad because it didn’t work for you?” I said sweetly.

Her face twisted. “I thought you were smarter. Didn’t realize you were just a lapdog, wagging your tail when the big dogs snap their fingers.”

I smiled wider. “Hot day, huh? Want me to help you cool off?”

And before she could respond, I shoved her straight into the lily pond.

Screaming. Splashing. Chaos.

The water rippled all the way to the Queen Regent’s embroidered heels.

She looked over.

And then—smiled.

When the girl got dragged out of the pond, dripping and gasping, half the garden was in uproar.

“My Lady! Vivian Rivers assaulted Miss Vaughn! You must punish her!”

Miss Vaughn. Of course. Her daddy hated mine. Their family had been trying to sabotage the KING for months.

The Queen raised a hand. Calm.

“I saw what happened,” she said gently. “Vivian pushed her.”

Miss Vaughn perked up.

“But I also saw what you said to Vivian. Would you care to repeat it, dear?”

The garden went dead silent.

The girl froze.

No one dared speak.

Finally, the Queen said, “You both acted poorly. Let’s call it even, shall we? Unless you have objections?”

Miss Vaughn bit her tongue so hard I thought she’d choke on it.

No objection.

I barely stopped myself from laughing out loud.

But deep down, I couldn’t stop wondering—

Why the hell did the Queen help me?

Chapter 3

Two days after the garden banquet, shit hit the fan—again.

A formal charge was brought against Mr. Elias Rivers. The Vaughn family wasn’t going to let that little pond incident slide. They went straight to the Council and accused him of raising an unruly daughter with no manners.

A goddamn historic moment—the first time in the nation’s judicial council history someone was impeached for “failure to raise a decent woman.”

And yet… the KING personally overruled it, praising Mr. Rivers for his loyalty and integrity.

Crisis averted.

Sort of.

Because as I tossed and turned that night, one little thought gnawed at me: Did Julian Whitmore know his Queen Regent was sneaking around with my dad?

And Nathan… oh god, Nathan.

I sat up, groaned, and threw the covers off. I needed answers. Tonight.

The moon was bright, the night air crisp, and I was halfway to Dad’s study when I froze.

Sitting at that stone table like it was Sunday brunch: my dad, Queen Regent Isabella Lancaster, KING Julian Whitmore, and… Nathan.

The hell kind of suicide pact was this?

I turned to leave.

“Vivian. Come here.”

Dad’s voice. Shit.

I plastered on a fake smile and walked up like I didn’t just witness the entire executive branch planning our public execution.

“Don’t scare your sister,” Isabella said sweetly, patting the seat beside her.

The hell is going on?

I sat down, stiff as a corpse. Dad was laughing like it was game night. Everyone was smiling like they weren’t all secretly sleeping with each other. Something felt… off.

Then Nathan gave me that look. You know the one—like he was about to drop a bomb.

And boy, he did.

Turns out, Dad and Isabella weren’t lovers—they were childhood friends, raised together under the late Queen Mother. They’d sacrificed everything to put Julian on the throne, like older siblings propping up a spoiled little brother.

Julian explained it gently, like he didn’t want me to implode: “Your father won the army for me. Isabella brought the loyal families. Without them, I’d be a puppet. They’re my family.”

Okay… so no sex scandal. Just emotional trauma. Cool.

Then my eyes drifted to Nathan and Julian. Something still didn’t add up.

Nathan elbowed me, hard. Message received: shut up about that part.

So yeah. From that night on, the truth was out in the open. And they stopped pretending.

Dinners got…weird.

Julian would show up unannounced, plopping himself at our table like a stray golden retriever.

“I just knew the Rivers had something tasty on the stove. Nathan clearly loves me more than you do.”

He said that while stealing food from my plate.

Isabella rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d fall out. “Vivian’s not even here yet, and you’re already hogging the dishes?”

Dad, being the coward he is, just smiled and massaged her shoulders. “Let him eat. He gets nothing but protocol and fake smiles at the estate.”

I sighed.

Our family was officially insane.

Chapter 4

Spring hit full bloom. The estate smelled like lilacs and old books. I was half-asleep in a lawn chair when something tickled my nose.

“Nathan Marshall, I swear to God—”

He leaned against a column, holding a blade of grass like a mischievous child. No shame. No apology.

Then came the news: “I’m being deployed again.”

I froze. Fist halfway up, ready to swing. Dropped it.

Nathan was a soldier to his core. Rootless. Restless. Born for the battlefield.

He’d been home barely a year, and now he was off to the front again.

I asked the only question that mattered: “What about Julian?”

Nathan hesitated. That alone told me everything.

“The KING’s still too young,” he muttered. “The Council’s full of old-money snakes. He’s got Dad and Isabella holding things down here, but the army needs someone loyal to him. If I don’t go… this country’ll belong to the Vaughns or the Davenports in a year.”

I looked away. My chest hurt.

“Fine,” I said.

But I didn’t mean it.

When he left, it was mid-April. Flowers everywhere. Horses saddled in silver. Nathan looked like a damn war god riding out under the sunrise.

He waved. “See you at Christmas!”

Liar.

Julian stood on the viewing platform, jaw clenched, eyes locked on Nathan like he could still reach him if he stared hard enough.

Isabella leaned toward me and whispered, “You sad he’s leaving?”

I nodded.

Nathan always promised he’d be back by Christmas.

He never was.

Meanwhile, back home, the Vaughns started tightening the noose.

They led a charge against Dad on the floor of Congress. I couldn’t even go to the training yard without some brat from an elite family trying to trip me on the way in.

Isabella knew it was getting bad. With Nathan gone and me going stir-crazy, she summoned me to the palace.

Graceview Manor was… simpler than I expected. The halls weren’t dripping in gold, but I saw something stranger—familiar things. A wooden rabbit. A child’s blanket. A small soldier carved from ivory.

“Your dad brought you and Nathan here when you were just toddlers,” Isabella said, picking up the rabbit. “You wouldn’t stop crying. I carved this for you.”

My ears turned red.

“You both screamed all night,” she laughed. “I basically lived at the Rivers’ house back then. That rabbit was the only thing that shut you up.”

That wasn’t Dad’s doing—he couldn’t whittle to save his life.

She handed me the rabbit. “It was yours anyway.”

I brought it home that night. Dad saw it and nearly popped a vein.

“She gave it to you?! I asked for it ten times and she said no every time!”

I nearly choked laughing.

Thanks to my now-infamous lake-dropkick and Isabella’s favor, the local delinquents backed off.

For once, things were quiet.

Chapter 5

Dad barely came home anymore. Too busy fending off political attacks.

So I stayed at the palace. I thought Graceview would be boring. I was wrong.

Julian kept showing up like a bad habit.

He’d sit under the eaves reading letters from the front, eyes glued to the page like Nathan’s words might vanish if he blinked.

“Whatcha readin’?” I asked.

Isabella smirked. “Letters from Fort Garrison. You should sneak up behind him. Scare the shit out of him.”

God, that sounded fun.