Ivy's POVIt’s been a few days since I saw Spencer with Delilah, and since then, time has felt like it’s passing me by in a blur. I’m still training with Gamma Everly, and sometimes taking Jason out for a couple training sessions of our own. But without the stress of the duel looming over me, fighting feels dull and uninspired. Sometimes, across the training grounds, I catch a glimpse of a woman starting to hone her combat skills for the first time. It makes me feel joyous–like I did something meaningful, for once. But these days, it’s a fleeting pleasure. And without Spencer to spend the time with, I’m acutely aware of my own loneliness. I’m sitting in my room and nibbling idly at a platter of sandwiches when I hear a knock on my door. My heart starts to thud in my chest as I stand up and walk towards the door. Is it Spencer? What does he want? Do I even want to see him right now? No, I don’t want to see him, the bastard, but I want him back more than anything and I–“Sylvia!” I
Ivy's POVAs soon as the words pass my lips, I find myself bursting into tears. “Oh!” Sylvia exclaims suddenly as I bury my face in my hands, the hot tears running down my face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I–I didn’t mean to make you cry…” Sylvia wraps her arms around me and pulls me close to her chest, stroking my hair soothingly as she does her best to calm me down. I don’t know why the full force of my loss and heartbreak has chosen this moment to manifest itself into a wave of desolation that makes me want to do nothing but cry, but I feel unspeakably awful right now. My cheeks burn with embarrassment at crying, but as my cries morph into twisting, heavy sobs, I realize this is the first time I’ve actually just let myself cry over this entire situation–a real, proper cry, not just a few shed tears that I’ve quickly swiped away. The sort of cry that’s cathartic, after all the misery. “It–it’s not your fault,” I sniffle, trying to reign in the overwhelming surge of hopelessness that’s cr
Ivy's POVJust as it seems like Beta Wilson and Alpha Quentin are about to start fighting, the Lycan King and Queen suddenly sweep into the foyer. All at once, the crowd falls silent. The Lycan King’s stern gaze fixes on Beta Wilson, his brow furrowed in distaste. “You can imagine my immense displeasure to hear that my Beta is picking fights with our most cherished guest at the palace,” the king says, voice rumbling with thinly veiled anger. “What is the meaning of all this, Wilson?” Red in the face, Beta Wilson points a tremulous finger towards Alpha Quentin and narrows his eyes. “I caught Alpha Quentin kissing one of the maids!” Beta Wilson says in accusation, glaring at Alpha Quentin with an unmistakable fury. “That’s not true,” Alpha Quentin says immediately, voice smooth and unfazed. But I can see his gaze shifting to a small, strikingly beautiful maid lurking near the edge of the crowd. Her thick brown hair is all mussed up, and her uniform looks rather disheveled. She’s d
Ivy's POV“Sylvia?” Both Beta Wilson and Alpha Quentin say her name in unison. Sylvia breathes out an exasperated sigh, marching towards Beta Wilson. Her heels clack on the marble floor as she approaches. She jabs an accusatory finger into his chest, eyes blazing in anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sylvia snaps at him angrily. “Sylvia, I can’t let you marry a man who’s–” “That’s Princess Sylvia to you,” Sylvia cuts in sharply. I suck in a breath. I don’t think she knows how to come back from this. Beta Wilson blinks, and for a moment, I can see the hurt etched into his features. But he refuses to back down, glowering at Sylvia. “I know what I saw!” “I can take care of myself, Wilson!” Sylvia snaps at him. “I don’t care what you saw–why would you be getting involved with royal matters to begin with? My marriage is none of your concern. Don’t you dare tell me what you can and can’t let me do.” Sylvia and Beta Wilson glare at each other, raw emotion crackling be
Ivy's POV“Alpha Quentin betrayed you! Why don’t you seem to care about that?” Sylvia rolls her eyes at Beta Wilson’s continued exclamation. “I don’t believe you!” She replies. Alpha Quentin looks up at Sylvia with wide, innocent eyes. “Princess Sylvia, Your Highness, please believe that I would never do anything that could hurt you in such a way–” “Why don’t we ask the maid?” Beta Wilson snaps, eyes gleaming darkly. The crowd’s attention shifts to the maid I noticed earlier, the beautiful girl with the dark brown hair and the disheveled uniform. At Beta Wilson’s accusation, her eyes widen in fear and horror, and I can see her chest rise and fall rapidly as her breathing begins to quicken desperately. A few members of the crowd shove her forward abruptly, and the girl goes pale with fright as she finds herself in the middle of the ring of observers–presented before the Lycan King and Queen themselves for judgment. I feel bad for her. I really do. The maid, trembling with fear,
Ivy's POVAs soon as Sylvia leaves the foyer, distraught after the whole affair, I approach Beta Wilson. Or–I suppose he’s just Wilson, now. “Ivy!” Wilson says, eyes widening as he sees me. “Moon Goddess, that was horrible. I mean–can you even believe everything that happened? They’re liars, Alpha Quentin and that maid both, and it’s only because of this sham of an engagement that the Lycan Royal Family won’t listen to me. Not to mention, Sylvia was completely, utterly unreasonable–” “I’m not going to sympathize with you, Wilson,” I snap sharply. Wilson falls silent, looking down at me. “What are you here for, then?” He asks dryly. “I used to think you and Sylvia were destined to be together,” I tell Wilson. “I thought, even after all the bullshit you dragged her through, somehow, somehow, the mate bond you share would be enough to make it all worth it.” “And I swear I want what’s best for her–” Wilson begins. “You’re not thinking about what’s best for her!” I counter. “Thanks
Ivy's POV“No, keep your hands up–make sure not to drop your guard–lead with your other foot, Jason–” I feel bad giving direction after direction as I spar with Jason, but I don’t know how else to convey what I’m trying to tell him at the moment. Jason continues to land haphazard swings at me, and I occasionally tap back lightly, but it’s not a real fight. I’m not doing anything that could actually hurt him. And try as he might, Jason doesn’t seem able to do anything that could hurt me, or any potential enemy. “Wait,” I tell him abruptly, catching his wrists and forcing him to stop his attack. “Maybe we call it quits for the day, yeah?” I suggest with a half smile. Jason pouts, looking up at me as he tugs his hands away. “I’m doing bad, aren’t I,” he mutters. “No!” I assure him quickly. “No, it–it’s not you. You’re doing great. I’m just a new learner myself, so I don’t think I’m the best teacher.” “Yeah, but who else would teach me?” Jason asks. I grab his water bottle from his
Ivy's POVAs I weave my way through the guest wing of the palace, searching eagerly for Alpha Quentin’s bedchambers, my heart feels like it’s about to pound out of my chest with anticipation.I’ve dressed up nicely for the occasion that’s to come–my hair is half-up, half-down, so my auburn curls cascade tantalizingly down my shoulders, and my makeup is shadowed and sultry. I’m dressed in a close-fitting black slip that hugs every slender curve of my body. I’ve dabbed rose perfume on my wrists and neck. My tall heels clack on the floor as I search for the one occupied guest bedroom, and the sensation of red lipstick painted over my lips is heavy and noxious. To anyone who may see me, it’s painfully obvious what my intentions are. Good. That’s what I want. When I see light shining from underneath a heavy door, a smug smile crosses my face. I look around the hallway quickly–there’s no one in sight. That’s fine. I can always put on a show later, when I really sell the act. I approach
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