Spencer's POVI don’t know what sort of reaction I was expecting from my mother upon learning of her husband’s demise, but as I stare into her eyes, what I see there surprises me.She doesn’t look scared, or sad, or confused. She looks grim. As the news hits her, my mother blinks once, twice, three times before drawing in a deep breath. She sets her jaw and pulls her shoulders back, iron in her posture. Her face, etched with wrinkles and lines yet regal as it’s always been, is a mask of determination. She allows herself the space of mere moments before clasping her hands together and setting them on her chest. “What happened?” Wilson asks in surprise. His eyes are wide, and he pulls Sylvia even closer. “Oh, my love, I’m so sorry for your loss…” “Quiet, Wilson,” my mother says sharply. She presses her fingers to her temples, momentarily lost in thought. “Alright. Who knows?” Colin’s voice falls open. Clearly, he was expecting messy emotions. Distress. I was, too. He doesn’t seem
Spencer's POV“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Colin’s words are shielded, obviously sliding around the question. I raise my eyebrow at him and look him over carefully. If Colin really was the one who killed my father, wouldn’t he try to do a better job of hiding it? “I want you to explain what happened in the moments before your father’s death,” my mother replies severely. I can tell by the stern expression on her face that her thoughts align with mine. “Spare no detail.” “I don’t–it’s all so hazy…” Colin says slowly. “Then try to piece it together,” my mother replies slowly. She closes her eyes for a moment, then snaps them open a moment later. “I’m having Captain McAndrews and the rest of the guard seal down the palace for the time being, no given cause yet. And we’ll have to retrieve your father’s body eventually. Things are moving quickly, Colin. I don’t have time to waste on this.” I examine my mother carefully. I’ve known my whole life that, while it may not seem t
Spencer's POVWhen Colin looks at me, just for a moment, I can see genuine fear flash across his expression. I can tell that he’s trying to formulate a lie–it would be easy enough, considering the conversation was just between Colin and my father. Colin is the only person alive to relay what was said. There’s no one to verify or corroborate that story. But between watching my father die, my attack on him, and now my mother’s scrutiny, I can tell that he’s struggling to come up with anything. “I swear it wasn’t important,” Colin says quietly. “I’ll be the judge of that,” my mother replies. Her gaze weighs heavily upon him, and I can tell she’s watching his every expression, his every gesture. She’s trying to read him the best she can. We both are. There’s a crucial missing piece here, and it seems like Colin is trying to hold onto it for as long as he possibly can. Distantly, throughout the palace, I can hear the sound of doors slamming shut and frantic footsteps. The palace see
Spencer's POV“I wanted your engagement to be cancelled so I could marry Delilah myself.” The words don’t hit me with the sort of impact Colin likely expects. Truthfully, I couldn’t care less about how he feels about my fiancé. But for the sake of maintaining the ruse, I let a small spark of anger ignite in my eyes and glower at Colin. “You wanted what?” I ask lowly, hissing the words out. “And you talked to our father about this?” Colin huffs, looking away. “It–it’s not what you think!” He stammers out.“Isn’t it?” I ask coldly. “I saw the way you spoke with Ivy. The way you flirted with her. You–you tried to put your hands on her!” Here, my anger is real, blood boiling as I remember how I felt watching Colin try to hit on Ivy over and over again. “You tried to drive a wedge between us, and you didn’t rest until you succeeded. But the moment she and I split up, you’re after the girl I’m with now? How fucking pathetic are you?” “But Ivy didn’t mean anything to me!” Colin protests.
Ivy's POVJason has been crying into my arms for the better part of an hour, and I’m starting to get really worried about him. I haven’t wanted to interrupt him so far, but he seems to be settling now. His cries have become softer, and I think the tears have stopped falling from his eyes. I rub Jason’s back gently. I wish there was more I could do to support him through everything he’s going through right now, but I can’t fix things for him. All I can do is be there. “Hey,” I say softly. “How are you doing?” “I–I’m so sorry,” Jason sniffles, looking up at me. “I’m so sorry for everything.” “I know,” I reply gently. “It’s okay. Everything is okay now. We can get through this. I love you, you know.” Jason looks up reluctantly. His face is red, pudgy cheeks traced with tears. He wipes his eyes. “I love you too, Mom.” Mom. My heart warms. I smile down at him, setting both my hands on his shoulders. “How are you feeling?” I ask him. “Is there anything I can do for you right now?” “
Ivy's POV“Explain.” My voice isn’t cold, exactly, as I stare Delilah down. I’m not trying to be mean, but I know now to keep my distance when it comes to dealing with her–to not get invested, to keep my cards close to my chest. I tilt my head at her and narrow my eyes, waiting for an answer. Delilah shrugs weakly, looking away. She looks scared and defeated, but I don’t buy it for one second. She swooped in like a vulture picking at the weak spots in my relationship with Spencer, and she struck the moment she saw an opening. If Delilah is capable of being that heartless when it comes to Spencer, I don’t think there are any lines she’s beyond crossing. I don’t like what she could do. I find my hand drifting over my stomach protectively. I wonder what she’d think if she found out about my pregnancy. I wonder what she’d do. “I haven’t been able to get a hold of Spencer,” Delilah says in a quiet, tremulous voice. She takes a step towards me. Instinctively, I push Jason behind me,
Spencer's POV“His body is still in the office?” As she asks Colin the question, for just a moment, I see a sliver of emotion on my mother’s face. I wonder what this is like for her. I remember what she said to me when I got engaged to Delilah–that royal marriages were rarely matters of the heart. I wonder if she loved my father. I don’t thinks she ever did. But she was with him for decades. They had three children together. All the years that passed–it forms an undeniable bond, a sort of resignation to the person you’re spending the rest of your life with. In so many ways, I think it was just the two of them against the rest of the world. And now it’s just her. The question passes her lips and hovers in the air. My mother looks away, taking another breath to recenter herself before her gaze returns to its usual bladelike sharpness and settles on Colin once more. “I didn’t touch it,” Colin replies. “So his body–” the words die on his tongue. He clears his throat before continuing
Spencer's POVAs the three of us make our way into my father’s office, an uncanny sense of quiet fills the air. I’m no stranger to death. I’ve been on the battlefield for almost as long as I’ve been alive–I’ve taken more lives than I could possibly count, and I’ve seen more deaths taken than I could possibly count. I’m not called the God of Death for nothing. I’ve had the immense displeasure of seeing the demise of people I knew prior, and that, too, has always been rather jarring. I’ve always managed to keep my cool, though. To remain distant and detached. Why should this be any different?But I can see him at the desk now, body slumped over. There’s blood dribbled from his lips and caught in his beard, splatter arcing across the desk. Colin was right–his skin is tinged ever so slightly blue, and his eyes are wide open and bulging. My father is dead. He’s dead right in front of me. My mother lets out a soft gasp. She approaches the desk slowly, one hand extended tentatively. Fo
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