Ivy's POVToday is the first day of training, and I couldn’t be more excited. I arrive at the training grounds early, feeling like I’m about to explode with anticipation. I’m dressed in athletic wear, hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. The scars on my arms and back are more exposed than I usually let them be, but that’s okay, because now the scars don’t belong to a scared girl struggling to survive.They belong to a warrior-in-training who’s lived through some of the worst things a person could go through. When Gamma Everly sees me, she gives me a brisk nod. “Glad you’re early. You ready to get started? Sylvia should be here soon.” I beam, rocking back on my heels and eyeing the entrance to the training grounds excitedly. Soon enough, Sylvia shows up, dressed the same as I am and ready to get started. I can see the scars on her body, too, and I hate how similar they are to my own. “You both set?” Gamma Everly asks as soon as Sylvia sets her things down. I tilt my head. “I t
Ivy's POVIn the following days, I find myself settling into something of a routine. Every day, Sylvia and I spar under Gamma Everly’s supervision. I wouldn’t say either of us are exactly good, yet, but every day we’re better than we were the day before. So it’s a start. I leave every training session sore in new places, body marred with bruises and cut skin, but I’m becoming used to the sweeter rush of pain. I can feel callouses building on my palms–nowhere near as significant as Spencer’s, but they’re forming. I’m becoming familiar with the beats of combat-how to throw a perfect, heavy punch, how to shift my weight so I can step gracefully or hold my stance firm and unshakeable. I’m learning how to take a hit and keep on swinging–when to tank an attack or when to dodge. I don’t quite feel safe, not yet, but I definitely feel like if I was attacked again I’d have a better idea of what to do. And that sense of certainty is what I’m after. I can tell Sylvia feels it too. After e
Ivy's POVSpencer moans ever so slightly as I straddle his lap, and I can feel his body tense up just a bit. I grin devilishly, certain he’s reacting to me. His gaze rakes along my body hungrily, moving from my chest to my lips to my eyes. I continue to boldly tug Spencer’s tie, my fingers working their way along the fabric until they’re right at the base of his throat. His heartbeat races, a steady thrum through his jugular. Our bodies are pressed flush together, and I can feel his chest heaving against mine as he looks me up and down. That familiar heat grows in the pit of my stomach, and I can feel my heart start to race in anticipation. Just as I lean forward, ready to press my lips against Spencer’s, he draws in a deep breath and pulls his gaze away from me abruptly. He shifts his gaze towards the window instead, expression distant. I can sense his withdrawal, and the sharp sting of rejection hits me right in the stomach, a bitter pang of disappointment. Did I do something w
Ivy's POVAs I try to piece together the story of what might have happened to the boy–Jason, that was his name–I can’t help but think back to when I first arrived at the Lycan royal palace. Just like him, I’d just witnessed the devastating death of a parent, and I was alone and aimless in a strange new place. I didn’t get even the smallest bit of kindness–Spencer had been distant, the maids had bullied me, and every member of the Lycan Royal Family hated me. I’d felt overwhelmingly lonely and lost, unsure of what to do.All I’d wanted was someone who could love me unconditionally. I bet that’s what Jason wanted, too. And I could have been there for him–I could have provided that for him. But I didn’t.I wasn’t there. I’ve been neglecting him these past couple days, and as I realize more and more the depths of my negligence, I feel wracked with guilt. He’s so young, and he has no one else. Have the maids been giving him attention? Affection?Jason’s mother was a maid. Do the palac
Ivy's POV“We think you should expel him from the palace permanently.”At the sound of the maid’s words, my eyes flash with anger. “Why should we take your word for it?” I snap immediately, glaring at her. I stand up straight, meeting her cruel, conceited glare dead-on. “All we know right now is that the boy was entrusted to your care, and now he’s missing. That’s not such a good look for you, is it?”The maid’ mouth falls open in shock. “That’s not–” “We just need to wait until the soldiers find Jason,” I say insistently, cutting the maid off. “Then the truth will come out. It always does eventually.”“What do you even know about him?” The maid sneers. “It was so easy for you to rescue him, sure, but you haven’t visited him once since he got here. You just got to be his hero then pawn him off on us. We’re the ones who actually know him, not you. Who are you to speak to his character?” “She’s my mate,” Spencer growls, a low warning hum. The maid’s face blanches. “Of–of course, Prin
Ivy's POVThe boy lays quietly in Gama Everly’s arms, completely and utterly unmoving. Jason has already passed out, and I’d be glad that he’s escaping the terrible pain he must be in, except that he looks like he’s on the verge of death. I’m shocked to see his body covered in bruises and blood. These look like injuries a grown man would incur in a fight, not the sorts of wounds that should be mottling a child’s body. “What… what happened?” I breathe out quietly, pressing my hand against my mouth in horror. I feel sick to my stomach, utterly disgusted by the sight before me.Who could do such a thing to a sweet, innocent child? “I was out on patrol when I stumbled upon a group of soldiers harassing a child at the border,” Gamma Everly begins, voice full of thinly-veiled rage as she looks at the warriors in the room. She holds the boy closer to her chest. “As I got closer, I realized I recognized the boy. The soldiers were kicking and beating him–it was obvious they planned on kill
Ivy's POVSpencer, the maids, the soldiers, Gamma Everly, and I are all gathered in the interrogation room. I gaze around the room, sitting at Spencer’s side. My back is ramrod-straight against the chair, hands curled into iron fists as I look at the warriors and the soldiers. I know they did it. I just need to make them confess it now. “The boy is still unconscious for now,” I say, speaking first and breaking the eerie silence that’s settled over the room. “But once he wakes up, the truth will surely come out. Now is your last chance to come clean on your own terms.”“The boy bit us!” One of the maids protests, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt to reveal her injuries again. “His behavior was reckless and self-destructive. He was mad! Who’s to say he didn’t injure himself?”“Your argument is that he gave himself all those injuries?” I repeat incredulously. My voice echoes like a vow. “Really?”The maid falls silent, staring down at the table with red cheeks. “I saw soldiers att
Ivy's POV“The Lycan Royal Family has a duty to protect all werewolves.”Under the force of Spencer’s bold declaration, spoken as though Spencer is scolding an unruly group of schoolchildren, the guilty maids and soldiers all keep their gazes glued to the floor. Their bodies start to tremble, necks almost certainly aching. I’m sure all of them know the obligations Spencer is explaining already.“We may deal with enemies on occasion, as the laws of battle dictate,” Spencer continues. “But we never go out of our way to bully anyone on purpose. This child is young, a victim of war. He’s young, a victim of war. He deserves to be cared for and taught the right way. Are you not ashamed?” The maids and warriors continue trembling in silence, and a slow, satisfied smile starts to stretch across my lips. There’s an undeniable power to the united front that Spencer and I present, and something about that power fills me with contentment. I’ve had just about enough of not being taken seriously
Ivy’s POV“Are you ready?” I whisper the question to Spencer as we stand behind a huge set of double doors. I’ve known him as the Lycan King for several weeks now, and been referred to as the Lycan Queen since our wedding, but today is the day it becomes official. Today is the day of the coronation. And I couldn’t be more excited. Every citizen of the Lycan Kingdom physically able to be in attendance is seated just beyond those double doors, dressed in their finest attire. I can hear the waning sounds of the band playing our anthem triumphantly, can hear the heavy steel-toed footfalls of our military as they carry out their grand display. It’s a show of strength and endurance–everything about today has been structured to portray power and confidence, from the massive outdoor ceremony in the palace’s courtyard to the full military regalia on display. “Ready as ever,” Spencer replies. “This is what I was born to, after all.” There’s a firm set to his jaw and iron in his posture. E
Spencer’s POV“Congratulations, Colin!” My mother is the first one to acknowledge the news, smiling gleefully as she looks towards her son and his fiancée. Now that their secret is out, Delilah is positively beaming as she slips the engagement ring out of her pocket and onto her finger, waving her hand back and forth. I chuckle lowly as the happy couple kisses tenderly. I just know they’re going to have the most unnecessarily extravagant wedding possible, and they’re going to adore every second of it. “I’m telling you, they’re only together because Delilah and I were engaged,” I murmur to Ivy out of the corner of my mouth. She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “If you say so, Spencer.” “Must be something in the air,” Sylvia remarks. “I heard Gamma Everly and Captain Leo got engaged, too!” At that news, I smile genuinely. After all the heartbreak she’s endured over the years, I’m glad Gamma Everly has finally found a man who can match her. It seems that my wedding to Ivy was on
Spencer’s POVIt’s been a couple days since I returned from the Sunclash pack and Ivy began recovering from the plague, and things have finally had a chance to settle into a routine. Beta Wilson and Doctor Danbury have been working restlessly to distribute the antidote to those in need far and wide. We’ve eradicated it completely from the Lycan kingdom and have almost finished scrubbing it from the outer packs. All of Elder Jet’s rebels have been placed in our custody, with trials pending. Based on the reports from other packs as well as the newly-formed Werewolf Council, it seems as though Elder Jet’s toxic ideology has been defeated for good. We still have lots to do to repair our relationship with the werewolves, of course, but we’re in a good place to begin that work. And as soon as Ivy returns to her full strength, I’m excited for us to begin that work together. I set down the last stack of papers on my desk and push open the door to my office, wandering back into the main bo
Ivy’s POV“What is it?” Those are the last words I hear, spoken in Spencer’s soothing, familiar voice, before I slip into an uneasy half-sleep. I can feel blankets being shifted and jostled around me, the vibrations from wheels being rolled across a bumpy floor. But my mind is distant, dreaming. I see fire. Magic. Blood. Frantic voices cry out, but there’s someone else, promising that I’m stable–just exhausted. My body is lifted up from the uncomfortable mattress and laid down somewhere much more soft and padded. There, finally, as the terrible burning recedes from my skin, I’m able to fall into a quiet, restful sleep. I’m not sure how much time passes before I finally come to. As my eyes plink open slowly, blearily, the first thing I see is Spencer sitting at the edge of my bed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good morning, Sleepyhead,” he says softly. I let out a quiet chuckle. “What time is it actually?” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. Suddenly I realize that everythin
Spencer’s POVAs I push past the double doors and into the hospital’s foyer, I’m struck by the absolute chaos everywhere. There are patients being pushed and shuffled in every direction, and the entire hospital staff looks criminally overworked, worry lines and downcast expressions almost completely hidden behind thick airtight filters. I realize the yellow suits all the staff are wearing match the protective suits Doctor Danbury gave us when we were investigating the Sunclash pack. And if everyone is in plague equipment now…I can only hope we’ll have enough of the antidote to deal with all the infected. That’s an issue for later, though. Right now, my focus is solely on Ivy. “Where’s the queen?” I shout, looking around the foyer frantically. A nurse rushes over towards me hurriedly, gaze darting back and forth. “She–she’s in the quarantine wing, Your Majesty,” the nurse says. “Quite a few patients are, unfortunately. Before I can take you there, I’m going to have to ask you to
Spencer’s POVAs soon as I pass the threshold of the Lycan Kingdom, I hear a frantic message from Captain Leo echoing in my mind. ‘–and they’re here!’ Comes the call, which has surely been repeating over and over again for ages now, if I’m hearing it as soon as I’m able. Captain Leo’s voice is frantic and desperate. ‘Please, Your Majesty, we have to get this under control. We need you here.’ I grit my teeth and keep my gaze peeled on the road ahead. We’re on our way to the palace now, to deliver the antidote to Ivy and whoever else may need it, but we’re still a matter of minutes away at least. ‘We’re in the kingdom now,’ I assure him. ‘Who’s here?’‘The rest of Elder Jet’s rebels, Your Majesty. It seems they were waiting for you to leave.’ I scowl in displeasure as I watch the scenery continue to blur around us. Of course that was the witch’s final plan, coward that she was. To poison my wife and lure me out to the middle of nowhere knowing how desperate I’d be to cure her… It’s
Ivy’s POVAs I lay in the quarantine room, I can feel the growing sickness continuing to spread through my body. Alongside all the typical postpartum symptoms, which would be horrendous enough on their own, the burning is horrible in its unrelentingness. The pain meds feel more like an empty consolation than anything else now. I’m more fatigued than I’ve ever felt before, but I can’t bring myself to fall asleep, because the agony simmering just beneath my skin is impossible to ignore. Am I being punished for something? ‘What am I going to do?’ I ask Venetia hopelessly. There’s no one else to talk to but her. ‘You’ll pull through,’ Venetia assures me, though I can hear the reluctance in her tone. ‘You heard the rumours–Spencer is out there right now, searching desperately for a cure! He loves you. He’s not going to let you die. You matter too much to him.’ I chuckle bitterly. ‘At a certain point, it doesn’t matter how much he doesn’t want me to die. I’ll die or I won’t.’ Venetia
Spencer’s POVAs my claws tear through the ice-cold flesh of the witch’s body, a bloodcurdling scream suddenly pierces the air. With a fierce cry, the witch tries to wrench herself from my grasp, but she only succeeds in dragging her body along my claws, worsening her own injuries. Blood splatters on the ground and onto my paws. It doesn’t feel like blood normally does, though–it’s cold like freshwater and feels oddly slick, almost oily. I pull my lips back over my teeth and growl viciously, searching for the witch’s neck in this darkness. “You beast!” The witch wails like a banshee. I can see her eyes glinting reflectively like a cat’s in the darkness. As we hit the ground, one of her antlers breaks and falls off. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am? You don’t have the faintest whisper of a chance against me, you brute–” I curl my claws inward, deepening the wounds further, and the witch lets out another ragged scream. Suddenly, the darkness in the room all seems to slither t
Spencer’s POV“Run!” My warning to Alpha Fierro echoes through the darkened office seemingly unheard. As the shadows continue to creep around my field of vision, obscuring everything from view, my heart thuds in my chest. Never before had I been scared of an enemy until encountering the witch. I shift fluidly into my wolf form, powerful arms and legs rippling with muscles, fangs and teeth sharp as daggers. My growl is a low, warning rumble in the base of my throat. Despite my heightened sentences as I continue to peer ahead, ears trained to detect the slightest sense of movement, I still have no idea where the witch is. “Reveal yourself, coward!” I shout, my voice echoing through the room. “You betray your honour by slinking around in the shadows.” The witch’s laugh, low and melodious, fills the air. There’s a haunting coldness to it. “Honour is a werewolf construct,” she says. “And it’s so unlike a proud, foolish warrior to consider it a cowardly action to win a battle with intel