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 POVAs Spencer’s words ripple through the ground of battle-hardened rebels and warriors, at first, all I can hear is the deafening sound of silence. I look around, watching with bated breath. I understand the weight of what we’re trying to do here–after all, for the Lycan Royal Family to suggest surrender, especially after such a horrific bloodbath, is a truly unprecedented thing to occur. I can see that it’s still taking everyone a couple moments more to process what has just transpired. But above all else, I believe in the inherent goodness of people. One way or another, kindness will win. It has to. When the first werewolf steps forward, head lowered and arms folded behind his back in a clear display of acquiescence, I can hardly stop myself from beaming. “I surrender,” the werewolf announces softly. The words echo through the battlefield, a whisper somehow amplified over and over again by all the history in the making of this one moment. With a flick of his wrist, Spenc
Spencer’s POVThis time, as I walk out onto the almost-still battlefield, I can feel the full force of my power returning to me. Heads swivel in my direction as I approach the center of the battleground. My Lycan aura crackles around me, a silhouette of pure power that follows behind me everywhere I step. Thanks to the Moon Goddess’s blessing as well as Ivy’s rejuvenation, I feel good again. Strong. I know I could control everyone on this field right now if I wanted to, but I don’t need to. Not yet. Right now, the gentle coercion of my Lycan aura around me is all I need. Ivy follows behind me. I can tell by the rhythm of her gait that she’s anxious to get out of here as soon as possible. I can’t see her, but I know her well enough by now that I can guess her gaze is darting around anxiously, eyeing every enemy in sight. But the longer I walk, the more confidence in my step, the more the sounds of battle start to quiet. Soon enough, the only sound to be heard is the soft pad of my f
Ivy’s POVWhile the scattered sounds of combat continue to fill the air, by and large, it seems that the battle has begun to come to a close. The last werewolf rebels are continuing to attack every Lycan warrior they see, but our enemy’s numbers have been considerably thinned. Now, the rebels are few and far between, sticking out like sore thumbs as they attempt to take down our ranks. It’s clear that we could still lose quite a few more lives at this point, but it would be meaningless. The battle has been won. It’s over. Anything else that happens now is just tying up the loose ends. “What happens now?” I ask Spencer softly, taking a look around. Wilson is still on the ground, writhing in agony as the silver spray continues to worm its way into his skin. My heart twinges with sympathy for him, but there’s nothing Spencer or I could do to alleviate the pain. Nearby, I can see Gamma Everly kneeling over Alpha Leo’s unconscious–hopefully unconscious, that is–body. Everywhere I look
Ivy’s POVI leap towards the witch without a moment’s hesitation. She lets out a shrill scream and tries to angle her antlers towards me. The side of one of the antlers cuts into my left arm, but it’s a shallow enough wound not to faze me, and I’m able to use the momentum against her and send her tumbling to the ground. The witch’s body is cold, uncannily so, and I can feel shivers starting to run through me as I press my paw against her throat. But the blood spilling from her severed hand is warm, and beneath all the strange magic etched into her being, she does seem to be alive. Which means she could, feasibly, be killed. “You’ll never get away with this!” The witch shrieks. Her voice seems to be going up to unnatural heights that I’m only able to hear due to my enhanced senses. “Jason is my son. You’ll never understand him like I could. He’ll never belong with you! You’re sentencing him to life as an outcast. Put your own cruelty and selfish wants aside for just one second. The
Spencer’s POVIvy and I exchange a single look, and it’s like we can read each other’s minds. Without even having to speak the words aloud, we turn away from Elder Jet’s corpse in unison and rush towards the ongoing scuffle. After having spent so long stuck on this battlefield together, and thanks to the months we’ve spent learning more and more about one another, strengthening our bonds, it feels like we’ve moved past typical forms of communication in so many ways. Ivy and I don’t need to tell each other our strategy–as I make my way behind the witch, and as Ivy swiftly leaps in front of her, I know what she’s trying to do. Ivy throws her body between the witch and Wilson. “Stay back!” She snarls, teeth snapping wickedly. Her snow white fur is streaked with blood, like berries crushed underfoot on a cold winter day. “Elder Jet is dead now. His cause is ruined. There’s nothing for you here.” “Foolish girl,” the witch rasps, extending her free hand and pointing one long finger towar
Ivy’s POVAs I scan the battlefield impatiently, doing my best to figure out where I could be the most helpful, all I can see is need. Spencer’s announcement on how to best take down the rebel werewolves has certainly been incredibly beneficial to the Lycan warriors. As I watch the battle continue to play out, the warriors are now employing tactics more or less reliant on grace or dexterity to make sure they can have the upper hand as much as possible. And while it’s encouraging to see the warriors continuing to make the best of the situation they’re in, adapting to the difficulties of such ruthless and magically enhanced opponents, there’s still so much death here. The Lycan warriors are getting more and more exhausted with each second that passes, and one side effect of those blasted potions seems to be enhanced stamina. Despite all our efforts to make sure the warriors have as much support as possible to do what they need to do and conclude this battle once and for all, we’re sti
Spencer’s POVThe skin of Elder Jet’s throat splits like silk beneath my claws. The last sound he ever makes is a small gasp, as though even after everything he’s said about accepting his fate, he’s still somehow surprised that I’d actually do it. For just a few moments, blood gushes liberally from the ragged wound in his throat–his weak heart pumping out blood with its last bits of strength. But as soon as his heart gives out, the blood flow stops its torrent. I raise my gaze back up to Elder Jet’s face. I want to feel something as I look over him–the wounds marring his features, his matted, stained fur, the glassy lifelessness in his eyes–but I don’t feel a thing. I pull away from Elder Jet slowly, staring at his corpse splayed out on the grass. This is the man who tried to kill me. Who tried to kill Ivy. Who succeeded in killing my father. He’s twisted and manipulated the minds of countless young werewolves, many of whom are no doubt dead thanks to him. Every action in his miser
Spencer’s POVWhen I see Elder Jet pinned beneath Ivy’s strong hold, the first thing I feel is pride. Over the course of knowing her, I’ve seen Ivy reclaim her own strength and power against all odds. When no one else believed in her, she believed in herself, and she’s been able to accomplish amazing things because of it. The sight of her now, able to so easily control such a powerful and influential man despite having been teetering on the verge of death so long ago… I’m so proud of her. I stalk towards Ivy and Elder Jet with a bold grin. “Thank you for taking care of him, Ivy,” I say. “Would you like me to handle things from here?” “It would be my pleasure,” Ivy replies. She strikes him across the face–just once, swiftly and harshly enough to open up a rather sizeable welt on his upper right cheek. As Elder Jet is still reeling from the blow, Ivy releases her hold on him and allows me to take her place. Before Elder Jet can even register the switch, I’ve got him firmly in my gr
Ivy’s POVThe sensation of Elder Jet’s skin tearing beneath my claws is one of the best things I’ve felt in a long, long time. Elder Jet lets out a sharp cry of pain as my claws rip into him. I can feel hot splashes of blood splattering up onto me, and I only curl my talons deeper. Elder Jet’s cry bleeds into a shout as I rip my paw back, tearing a ragged hunk of flesh out of his shoulder. “You,” Elder Jet snarls, looking up at me with an expression of profound loathing as he curls his lip at me and takes a step back. “Me,” I repeat with a smug grin, shaking the bits of viscera out of my claws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gamma Everly doing her best to limp away. Elder Jet doesn’t pay her any mind, though. His gaze is focused on me like a laser, and I can tell I’m his only focus right now. “You should be dead right now,” Elder Jet stammers out. His speech is already starting to slur from the blood loss. “After that potion we gave you, after the injuries, after–I killed