Ivy's POVAs everyone else heads straight to the restaurant, I head to the hospital alone to pick my Jason. My mind is still reeling from everything that happened–Sylvia’s mention of my powers, Delilah’s suggestion to test them, and Spencer’s immediate shutdown. It’s a lot to take in, all at once. Do I really have powers?It seems impossible to believe, but the evidence is right there. I sigh, walking quickly along the narrow path away from the palace. I know the route to the hospital well–it’s a regular part of my routine, between all my visits with Delilah and Jason. And I’ve spent a fair bit of time there, too, of course. I take my usual shortcut, weaving between a patch of shrubs and stepping into a cluttered, narrow alley that heads straight for the hospital. As always, the air feels uncannily still, and the cramped walls on either side make me feel strangely claustrophobic. But I’ve walked this route loads of times before, and nothing has ever happened. As I continue my
Ivy's POVThe werewolf that had attacked me collapses onto the road with a thud. He lets out a weak whimper, blood pooling from the wound just below his jaw, before the light fades from his eyes and his expression becomes glassy. My breathing becomes shallow. I’ve seen so much death now, but even still, it rattles it. As I slowly recover from the panic of being attacked, I suddenly realize I have something new to worry about–or rather, someone. I clamor to my feet quickly, taking a few steps back as I stare in shock at the young man in front of me. His hair is long and black, tied back loosely. He’s tall and lean and dressed in an all-black tracksuit that would look strange and pretentious on anyone else, but somehow it makes him look casual, yet sharp. His pale blue eyes glint with mirth. I can see the evidence of his brief battle on him–the tracksuit has a couple torn patches, and there’s a shallow claw wound along his forearm. His handsome face is smudged with a few droplets of
Ivy's POVColin? The mysterious stranger is Prince Colin? I look up at the man in shock. Now that I know who he is, I can see a clear resemblance between Spencer and Colin–something in the corners of their eyes, in the slopes of their noses, in their chiseled, pronounced cheekbones. But where Spencer is broad and muscular, a walking testament to pure physical strength, Prince Colin is lean and angular. There seems to be something almost slippery about him–a wiry, cunning air. I wince as Spencer delivers the fourth punch. On the ground, Prince Colin groans in pain. For as long as I’ve been hearing about the Lycan Royal Family, I’ve known that Spencer has a younger brother at the werewolf military academy. But out of all the ways I could have met him, I never thought I’d meet him like this. And Spencer and Colin don’t exactly seem to get along. As Prince Colin spits a mouthful of blood onto the ground, Spencer prepares for a fifth punch, but quickly decides against it. Instead, he
Ivy's POVAt Princess Sylvia’s question, Jason glances up at me nervously, clearly in search of reassurance. I suppress a smile at his endearing anxiety and give him an encouraging look and a thumbs-up. He looks less apprehensive meeting new people now, at least. That’s a good sign. It’ll be hard to undo some of the damage the warriors have done, but Jason seems strong. I’m sure he’ll be able to bounce back well. Jason nods up at Sylvia nervously, gaze shifting back and forth. I wouldn’t usually think of Sylvia as the warmest person, but to my pleasant surprise, she offers Jason a warm smile. “Well, nice to meet you, Jason. My name is Sylvia.”She extends her hand towards him, an open invitation to shake, but Jason just stares at her palm uncertainly. Sylvia brushes past it easily, grin widening. “I’m Spencer’s sister,” she continues. “So, if you’d like, you can call me your aunt.” “Aunt Sylvia,” Jason whispers, as though getting a feel for the shape of the woods. Everyone at
Ivy's POVThe next day, as I spar with Sylvia out on the training field, I can hardly focus. I’m still haunted by what happened with the werewolf assassin. As I dodge and swerve around Sylvia’s attempted strikes, I can still see the assassin’s figure superimposed over hers, haunting me. I cna’t stop replaying our fight in my mind. As she steps, he steps. As she dodges, he dodges. As she swings, he swings. I can feel my heart rate going up, panic settling into my chest. Once again, I was ambushed. Once again, I almost died. Once again, the only reason I’m alive is because someone else was able to rescue me. It’s different this time, too, because I’m in training. I’ve been learning how to fight. I’m supposed to have gotten better. But in the end, it didn’t matter. He could’ve killed me all the same. And what about the man who rescued me? I aim a halfhearted strike towards Sylvia, but she dodges easily. I can’t stop thinking about the animosity between Spencer and Prince Colin. I’
Ivy's POV“When Colin was younger, he absolutely idolized Spencer.” Sylvia draws in a deep breath as she starts to explain her immediate family’s history, expression tinged with regret and a bit of nostalgia as she remembers time past. “He’d follow him around constantly,” Sylvia adds with a light laugh. “But Spencer–well, you know how he can be. All cold, and detached, and distant, and… I mean, I don’t need to mince words. You know him. He can be an asshole.” “He really can be,” I agree, thinking back to how things have been over the past couple days. Sylvia’s smile wavers. “You’ve heard about how my parents have seen Spencer, right? They’ve always treated him like… well, not a monster, exactly. But different from everyone else. I don’t know if Spencer was already emotionless, but if he wasn’t to begin with, he definitely ended up that way thanks to their treatment. And after he showed early signs of being a skilled fighter, it was over for him.” I listen to Sylvia’s words in st
Ivy's POVI’m surprised and a little nervous at Prince Colin’s unexpected arrival, but Sylvia and Everly don’t seem to react at all. Sylvia rushes towards him with a wide smile. “Colin!” She exclaims happily, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. “Moon Goddess, it’s been too long. What are you doing here?” As I watch the two siblings embrace, I realize that I’ve never seen Spencer and Sylvia act particularly affectionate before one another. They seem more like acquaintances or work colleagues than relatives. I’d assumed before that royal siblings weren’t particularly close, but I guess the problem has just been Spencer. I also feel a slight tinge of worry. If Sylvia truly believes that Colin wants to challenge Spencer for the throne–a fight that would no doubt be to the death, or to something even worse–where do her alliances lie? Which brother would she stay true to? Sylvia seems genuinely close to me. I’d like to think we’re friends. But she doesn’t seem
Ivy's POVPrince Colin looks me up and down, a heavy sort of glare that takes over my body. I squirm under his glance, feeling strangely uncomfortable as I’m observed–as though I’m being examined. It’s not the slimy sort of stare that I’ve incurred from men before. That’s not what Prince Colin is doing. He’s sizing me up for combat. I can feel myself start to buzz with anticipation. Prince Colin smirks as he meets my gaze. “Just to be fair, I won’t shift.” “Sounds good,” I agree. I take a few steps back from him, assuming the starting position Sylvia and I usually begin with. “Um, when should I…?” “Whenever you’re ready,” Prince Colin replies. I narrow my eyes, looking the young prince up and down. He hasn’t taken any sort of fighting stance–he looks relaxed, posture slightly slouched, arms crossed lazily over his chest. But he has the same sort of latent strength that Spencer says. I can recognize it in how he carries himself. Prince Colin is dangerous–he just doesn’t let it
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