Ivy's POV“Warrior Lance!” I growl at the disgraced warrior, baring my teeth at him. I want to tear him limb from limb. I want to watch his blood splatter across the marble floors. I want to break his bones one by one for what he did to my sweet, innocent son, for the wicked thoughts he had the audacity to plant in his mind–Lance bares his teeth right back at me, but as Spencer continues to keep him in the chokehold, I can tell that he knows he’s been defeated. I wonder for a moment why he revealed himself to us–after all, he could have tried to escape capture. But I suppose it makes sense, considering he just tried to kill Jason, that Lance is trying to tie up his loose ends right now.After all, Jason was just about to reveal how Lance had corrupted his mind. “You should have eaten every last bite of the wolfsbane, you royal leather bootlicking bitch!” Lance sneers at me, thrashing against Spencer’s firm grip. His voice is raspy and full of anger, completely unlike the polite,
Ivy's POV“Jason is the illegitimate son of an Alpha and a witch.” At Lance’s words, I feel my blood run cold. Still holding Jason’s chains tight, Captain McAndrews lets out an audible gasp, raising his gaze to the heavens. “Moon Goddess spares his soul,” Captain McAndrews murmurs. Held firm in Spencer’s tight grasp, Lance starts to chuckle, a cruel smile warping and distorting his once-amicable features. “I thought the witches were long gone, vanished decades ago,” I tell Spencer in surprise, meeting his gaze. Spencer shrugs, expression impassive. “So did we. But with the evidence of those red potions Elder Jet has been using this whole time, as well as his extensive poison knowledge…” he trails off. “I’m afraid it’s very possible that the witches–or at least one witch–is still present today.” A shiver runs down my spine. Witches are the stuff of fairy tales–wretched hags who creep and lurk in the shadows, twisted godless women with strange rituals and practices. Witches are th
Ivy's POV“Ivy, what are we going to do about him?” Spencer’s brow is furrowed uncertainly. I can tell that he’s already made up a decision in his mind, and I doubt that it’s one I’d agree with. Spencer is, after all, a brutally cold and practical man. The only reason he hasn’t made an official decision right now is because he’s doing me the courtesy of letting me voice my opinion first. I don’t know exactly where I stand right now, but I know that Jason doesn’t deserve any of what happened to him. After all, this entire ordeal–members of the Werewolf Council, and specifically Elder Jet, wanting to wage war against the Lycan Royal Family–only really began because in killing Erick, I gave Elder Jet the leverage he needed to build this entire attack from the ground up. While these conflicts have existed for far longer than I’ve been in the Lycan Royal Family’s sphere, they’ve only really taken shape since I entered the picture. What happened to Jason is, ultimately, my fault. And w
Ivy's POV“He tried to kill you, Ivy.” Spencer seems exasperated by the conversation. He’s shifting back and forth, and keeps shooting angry glares at both Lance and Jason. I can tell that he’d much rather be out of here by now. “But he wouldn’t have tried to kill me without outside influence!” I protest, looking at Jason. “That was all Lance’s doing.” “He hated you plenty before I showed up,” Lance chimes in. “All I did was give him a plan. He was more than willing to participate!” I raise an eyebrow at Jason. “Is that true?” “I–I–” Jason’s face flushes a deep, frustrated red, and his lower lip starts to tremble. “I don’t know! My mother just died and the war was the Lycan Royal Family’s fault and everything was a mess! What was I supposed to think?” I breathe out a slow sigh, then purse my lips, thinking intently. I want to make sure Jason is provided with all the opportunities in the world to change and learn and grow as a person. Now that everything has been revealed, now t
Spencer's POVAs Ivy continues to argue on Jason’s behalf, all I can think about is how beautiful she is. Whenever she’s passionate about something, there’s this glow she gets about her. It’s a brilliant spark in her eyes, maybe, a twist of her lips and a set of her jaw. It makes her stronger. She seems sure of herself. Her sheer, overwhelming force of emotion–it sets her ablaze. It’s like she becomes the center of the universe. She becomes the center of my universe, anyways. “How are we going to keep you safe, if we don’t put Jason in prison?” I ask. When I first found out Jason had tried to have Ivy’s food poisoned, I nearly tore the little brat apart where he stood. I’ll have my revenge with Lance and that crooked chef, at least. But the idea of anyone trying to hurt Ivy–especially within the walls of this palace, where she’s supposed to be her safest–makes my blood boil. “Your Highness, you can’t actually be considering letting the boy’s actions here go unpunished–” Captain M
Ivy's POVWhen I wake up in an unfamiliar room, all I can focus on is the pounding in my head. My eyes blink open blearily, and I manage to prop myself up onto my elbows, sitting half-upright. My head feels as though it’s been stuffed with cotton, and as I raise my arm to adjust my hair, I catch sight of the IV on the back of my hand. The sight of needles tugging under my skin makes me wince.Wait–needles? All at once, I realize where I am. I’m in a hospital bed. “Ivy!” Spencer exclaims, relieved. My eyes widen as I look to my left, where I can see Spencer, Sylvia, and Wilson sitting in the corner of my room. It doesn’t seem like they’ve been here long at all–they all seem tensed-up, not yet comfortable in their seats. As I take in my surroundings, all three of them are looking at me with concern. “What… what happened?” I murmur blearily. “We don’t quite know yet,” Spencer replies, stone-faced. Though he’s done his best to school his expression, it’s not quite working. I know h
Ivy's POVYou’re pregnant, Ivy. All at once, the world seems to collapse in on itself. I feel like I could pass out all over again as the hospital bed starts to tilt beneath me and the wallpaper twists itself into knots. I can feel my heart starting to race and my breath starting to quicken but maybe that’s not me and it’s actually all the baby– Pregnant? I suppose it’s possible–I mean, all things considered with how Spencer and I have conducted ourselves before, it’s most definitely very possible–but pregnancy has never felt like something that could happen to me. It seems like it should be a reality disconnected from myself. I’ve always wanted kids. I have a son already. But a baby? A baby I’ll give birth to myself? How am I supposed to raise an infant? I glance over at Spencer to see how he’s taking the news. He’s gone red in the face, with wide eyes and a slack jaw. For once, he looks completely, utterly dumbfounded. Spencer’s the father. Of course he is. Who else would it
Spencer's POVIvy’s words ring through my head, chilling me to the bone. “I don’t want to put a child through you.” What’s that supposed to mean? That oh, I’d be such a terrible person to raise a child with? That I’m not fit to be a parent? That I’d damage the child just by trying to be in their life? Absolutely absurd. But as Ivy looks deep into my eyes, I realize that her words aren’t motivated by any sort of anger over what;s happened between us. No–she looks scared, and sad, and completely, utterly alone. She looks like she doesn’t know who she can rely on to support her with this. And I can’t even say that I blame her for feeling this way. She’s right. I am engaged to Delilah. I haven’t been making Ivy feel like a priority in all the ways she deserves. I have no idea what kind of father I’d be. It makes sense that Ivy would want to keep me at arm’s length, and as I gaze into her eyes, I can tell that she’s close to snapping. I think any attempts made to argue with her now w
Ivy's POVI think I can feel my last breaths rattling in my chest. I don’t know how much longer I have left at all. I thought I’d be long gone by this point, if we’re being really honest. I feel like I’m mostly gone—my vision has gone completely, since I no longer have the energy to keep my eyes open, and I can barely breathe at all. My heartbeat feels like it could stop any moment. I’m aware of the pain wracking my body, that red-hot agony tearing me apart. It sizzles and simmers on my skin. It feels like it’s tearing me apart. But at the same time, I can’t feel anything at all. I know there are things I should be feeling. Grass beneath my body, maybe. The blood that’s seeped into the soil. The grime and metal residue on my skin from having been locked in that cage. I can picture all of these things, in a vague, spun-out way. I can remember what they'd be like. I can simulate the feeling. It’s not the same as actually experiencing it, though. ‘Please, Ivy, try to hold on,’ Venet
Spencer's POVI can feel Elder Jet watching me as the life slowly ebbs from my body, and I want to tear his eyes out. He’s smirking down at me, lips curled into a sickening grin. I grit my teeth as I look up at him. I think I could stand up if I wanted to, maybe land a couple weak blows, maybe draw a bit of blood, but what’s the point? I’d rather save my energy for when I know I’d at least have a fighting chance at getting something done. “Your army is failing,” Elder Jet says to me, crouching down by my side. “Or rather—you failed them, didn’t you? Because you weren’t strong enough, weren’t smart enough, weren’t able to do what needed to be done. I suppose losing Ivy rattled you even more than I would have anticipated, hm?” He chuckles, a bitter, rasping sound. “You can’t even begin to imagine how glorious it feels to get everything you ever wanted so perfectly laid out for you.”I’m still trying to reach out to my centurions, hoping to rally them and their troops to battle. But ag
Spencer's POVElder Jet’s cold laugh chills me to the bone. “My, my, Prince Spencer,” he says smugly. I can see him towering over me, can feel the droplets of my own blood pooling into the ground below me as the silver mist works its way into my skin. “I thought you’d at least be able to put up a better fight than that!” “A prince’s pride is often his own undoing,” comes the witch’s voice, prompting another wave of revulsion to come over me. “So I can’t say I’m particularly surprised.” I let out a ragged cough, droplets of blood splattering out this time. That can’t be good. My chest burns as small drops of silver continue to worm through my skin, and the sizzle of my flesh on fire combined with the iron tang in the back of my throat makes me want to puke. I want to speak, want to form words, but it feels like my vocal chords have been severed and drenched in lighter fluid. Reinforcements. We need reinforcements. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gamma Everly, Alpha Leo, and
Spencer's POV“I really did try to warn you.” The witch’s words are nonchalant, spoken with a sigh as she tucks the silver spray back into one of the pockets of her dress. She watches Gamma Everly, Alpha Leo, and Wilson carefully as the silver spray begins to take effect. A shiver of revulsion runs through me as I realize what’s happening. Their pained, piercing screams fill the air as they all swat at their skin frantically, as though they’re being stung by a swarm of bees. Those little droplets of silver mist, innocuous and beautiful as they seem, appear to be burrowing into everyone’s skin. I can see little pinpricks of blood running down every inch of exposed flesh–even Gamma Everly, who’s encased almost head to toe in her heavy red armour, has blood on her face as she tries desperately to rub the spray off her face. The smell of overcooked meat fills the air, and my stomach turns. Small wisps of smoke are rising up from the site of everyone’s exposure. Gamma Everly, Alpha Leo,
Spencer's POV“Step away from them!” Gamma Everly’s voice is strong as she levels her sword at the witch’s chest. Even in the pale moonlight, her red armour seems to glow, almost illuminating her in a crimson halo. The blade’s edge is wicked sharp, and even just looking at it makes my skin feel a twinge of sympathetic pain. Her eyes are cruel and hard as diamonds as they bore right through the witch’s skull. But the witch only lets out a calm, melodic laugh as she trails her fingers along the sides of the small silver bottle she’s just procured. Alpha Leo and Wilson exchange concerned looks as they stand behind Gamma Everly, prepared to back her up the moment she needs it. “Gamma Everly, please don’t be so foolish,” the witch says with a sneer. “And tell those men to stand down, too. Ivy and Spencer are dying. There’s nothing you can do to save them. I can take you down in an instant if I want to, but I figure I should do you the courtesy of sparing you that pain now.” “Not a chan
“I love you.”Ivy’s final words to me ring in my ears like gunshots. I hold her close, I kiss her forehead softly, I do everything I can think to do because I can feel her slipping away. Her body is so small in my arms, so frail, and I can tell I’m losing her, and then–Ivy’s strange, dreamed-up world flickers in and out of view, alternating between the woods and the battlefield outside of the barracks. All at once, she’s not in my arms. I don’t know where she is, but I’m lying on bloodstained grass and I can hear the fighting all around me and my throat feels like it’s on fire. I’m awake now. This isn’t a dream. It hits me all at once, the crushing weight of realization–if we’re not inside Ivy’s mind anymore, if we’re not intertwined in that beautiful place where we could avoid the rest of the world, that must mean Ivy wasn’t able to sustain the connection for any longer than she did. And considering the poison she’d swallowed, considering the undeniable consequence of that…She’s
Ivy's POVIt takes me a good couple of moments to realize I’m not dead. Death, I’d always imagined, would be cold. Distant. Disconnected–and that’s only if I’m aware of anything at all. But as my eyes slowly open and I continue to hear the overwhelming cacophony of war all around me, it slowly dawns on me that I’m not, in fact, dead. The pain hits me a couple moments later. In my mind, it had been a nagging sort of reminder. But all at once, my throat is burning like it’s been doused with acid once more, and blood keeps dribbling down my lips. The overpowering iron taste is enough to make me want to throw up, but I do my best to hold it back. The feeling of bile against my already-shredded throat would no doubt push my already-excruciating agony to new, unimaginable heights. I’m trembling from head to toe. My entire body feels weak and limb, barely within my control. It’s hard to feel much of anything beyond the pain, really. How am I alive? I should be dead. ‘Hang in there, Ivy
Ivy's POV“Loving you is the best thing I ever did.” Spencer’s hands in mine are soft and warm and reassuring. He feels like coming home. Like relaxing. Like finally letting myself feel peace. I look at him, and my heart flutters. He’s going to be the last thing I ever see, and I couldn’t have chosen a better view. “Thank you for telling me,” I say to Spencer. It feels as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but for so long, I’ve been clinging to the notion that Spencer left me because he wanted to. Because he could. “I wanted to tell you sooner,” Spencer admits. “There were so many times… but then there would be people around, or Delilah would interrupt me, or–did you know she told me she’d explain the whole situation to you herself, so no one would be suspicious and think the engagement was false? That was her entire reason for me to keep it a secret! All so the rest of the world would believe that Delilah was my mate, not you.” I
Spencer's POVIvy and I are lying in the grass, and as time continues to pass in this stolen in-between, I can tell her mind is racing a thousand miles a minute. I roll over so I’m facing her. I could spend a lifetime admiring Ivy–her soft, sculpted features, her beautiful blue eyes as endless as oceans, the way her auburn hair spills over her shoulders. When I'm this close to her, when we’re almost face-to-face, I can see faded freckles splashed across her cheeks like constellations. She’s a work of art. Her gaze is fixed on the sky up above, lips parted ever so slightly, hands clasped over her chest. And she’s completely, utterly lost in thought. I reach over and grab one of Ivy’s hands. She jolts ever so slightly at the touch, then looks over and smiles distantly at me. I furrow my brow. “What’s on your mind?” I ask her. “It seems so silly to bring up now,” Ivy mumbles. “Don’t worry about it, please.” I tilt my head, looking her over once more. I’m trying to etch every last