Spencer’s POVThe moment I hear Ivy’s scream split the air, my blood begins to run cold. “Ivy!” I cry out, whirling towards her. She’s doubled over, crying and holding her stomach. The baby. “Ivy, I–what can I do? What’s wrong?” Without hesitation, I scoop Ivy up into my arms, cradling her gently. She lets out another shriek as I hoist her into the air. As I continue to hold her, I suddenly feel something damp on the bottom of her wedding gown. “Ivy, is that…” I say slowly. I rush down the aisle as quickly as I can without joistling her too much. As the wicked light continues to spill down on us, I can’t help but feel another pinprick of fear slip its way into my heart. A Blood Moon like this can’t indicate anything good for the future. And if Ivy’s current state is caused by what I think it is…Ivy nods shaky, moaning in pain as she writhes back and forth in my arms. “The baby,” she cries out. Her breathing is coming fast and ragged, and I can see just how much pain she’s in. I
Spencer’s POVThe moment I step into the hospital, everything becomes a blur. “Your Majesty, put her down, please,” a nurse says to me frantically. I look down at Ivy, who’s still clutching my shirt like a lifeline. She continues to writhe in agony in my arms, and the sight of her in such pain while she’s still wearing her wedding dress is devastating to me. The nurse has brought over a gurney for me to set her down on, but I can’t bear to let go of her. “Your Majesty, we need to run some tests and get her prepped for delivery at once,” the nurse says, tone becoming more insistent. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. “Is she going to be okay?” I ask, setting her down in the gurney as gently as I can. “What is–why is this happening?” As Ivy slowly adjusts herself on the blankets, one hand holding her stomach over the dress’s beautiful fabric, she grabs my hand with the other and continues to squeeze. Her breath is coming in short bursts, and her makeup has star
Ivy’s POVAs I lay there in the hospital bed, clutching Spencer’s hand like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality, I’m wracked with a pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s funny–or, it would be funny if I was in a state of mind where I could find humour in anything. I’ve been stabbed, clawed open, and ritualistically beaten. I’ve drunk poison strong enough to have killed the Lycan King. I’ve died. I’ve straight up died before. But all of that was easy compared to the pain of childbirth. I groan, no longer able to form words as I writhe back and forth on the bed sheets. Dimly I’m aware of the nurses huddling around me and taking my vitals. Needles are slipped into my veins and salves are spread across my skin. All at once, the fabric of my wedding gown feels impossibly tight and constricting. “Get… get it off!” I shriek, tearing at the chiffon weakly with my one free hand. I can feel more warm liquid leaking out of me, no doubt staining the dress irreparably. I d
Ivy’s POV“I can’t do this!” The exclamation tears through the room in a shrill burst of agony and desperation, but all the nurses just look at one another like it’s something they’ve heard a million times before from other birthing mothers. My body feels like it’s falling apart as a pain unlike any other continues to flow through me in waves. I scream over and over again, grabbing at the bedsheets and Spencer’s hands and the soft fluff of the mattress and just about anything at all I could theoretically use to find purchase. I feel like I'm floating through the universe in a sea of endless pain, and if I don’t find something to tether me quickly, I’ll find myself adrift for good. “You’re doing great,” Doctor Danbury assures me. Though she’s firmly focused on whatever’s happening between my legs, she makes a gesture towards me with one hand, and a nurse immediately comes to my bedside with a stack of dampened towels. “Just keep pushing, just keep breathing, and I promise all of thi
Spencer’s POV“So is the baby okay?” I ask the question frantically, watching both Ivy and the infant in fear that something could go wrong at any instant. The image laid out before me is peaceful–Ivy is cradling our child in both arms, rocking her back and forth and humming and whispering sweet nothings against her baby curls. Most of the blood has been wiped from the infant’s pudgy body, and she’s sleeping now, all curled up in her fuzzy pink blanket. But I can’t shake the lingering feeling that something is terribly, horribly wrong. Doctor Danbury shrugs. “Honestly, if I didn’t know she was about twenty-eight weeks early, I wouldn’t have known,” she replies. “Her vitals are healthy, her breathing is good, she’s an appropriate weight and size… this was pretty much the ideal scenario for childbirth, save for the fact that it happened directly after your wedding. I can’t promise anything going forward, but right now, you have a perfectly healthy baby girl.” “But how did this… happ
Spencer’s POVAs I look down at my daughter, a love unlike anything I’ve ever felt before flows through me. It’s not different in its magnitude, but rather in its softness, its sweetness. The overwhelming sense of protectiveness that overtakes me. My young daughter, my beautiful Tala. I want to take care of her day in and day out. To provide for everything she may need. To be there for her as long as I possibly can. Her soft, squishy cheeks, her pudgy fists grasping at nothing, the wisps of curly hair still plastered to her head…“Could I hold her, please?” I ask Ivy quietly. She beams up at me. “Of course!” I take a seat beside her in the hospital bed, careful not to jostle her or Tala too much as I do. The moment I’m seated comfortably, Ivy slowly places the little bundle of joy into my arms, and my heart feels like it’s about to overflow with all the love I’m feeling. “Oh,” I whisper softly, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I smile gently at Tala, brushing one finger ag
Ivy’s POVAs I watch the former Lycan Queen hold my daughter, a strange sensation suddenly overtakes me. I let out a sharp gasp, grasping for Spencer’s hand immediately. I try to cling to it, but my grip is already beginning to slacken. Tiny black and white specks flash across my face like static. I can hear a faint ringing in my ears, a piercingly shrill whistle that feels like an ever-growing pressure just behind my eyes. Goosebumps ripple across my skin, and all the residual pain I’ve felt from childbirth suddenly seems to intensify. But more than anything else, I feel like I’m on fire. It’s as though hot coals have been set ablaze just underneath my skin, like I’m crisping up and sweltering in the overwhelming heat. I groan, doubling over in pain as the heat persists. “Ivy?” Spencer asks urgently, immediately doing his best to prop me up. I keep slackening against his grasp, though. “Ivy, what’s wrong?” I do my best to form words, but it’s as though my tongue is suddenly inca
Spencer’s POVThe more time Ivy and I spend in the hospital, the more the days begin to blur. When Ivy is deemed stable enough to move out of the delivery room, we’re quickly moved to a much nicer room in the hospital, and it’s a brief respite from the monotony that’s overtaken our days. I’m able to move most of my work from the palace to the hospital, though I do go back every so often to transfer files or spend some time with Tala. “It’s just a postpartum fever,” Doctor Danbury assured us initially, looking over her files with a wrinkled brow. “Queen Ivy, I know you’re feeling sensations right now unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, but I promise it’s all a fairly natural–albeit unpleasant–aspect of the postpartum healing process. We’ve got you constantly monitored now. Just do your best to keep eating and drinking. The best you can do is build back your strength.” “Yes, Doctor,” Ivy said demurely. But as we exchanged dissatisfied glances, I could tell neither one of
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