Spencer's POVWhen I see my father, he’s clearly not happy.“Father,” I say respectfully.My father, King Damien, frowns at me. His expression is grim and clearly displeased. “I have received word that Alpha Erick of the Thunderclaw pack was executed without authorization–and by my own son, no less. Is this true?”“Yes, Father,” I admit straightforwardly.My father heaves a sigh. “Why, Spencer? Why did you have to execute him when you could’ve simply handed him over to the Werewolf Council for trial?” “His execution was justified.” My voice is calm, measured. “He kidnapped Alpha Kinney, cut off his leg, and tried to take over the Obsidian pack. He needed to be disposed of as soon as possible.”Truth be told, I didn’t necessarily have to kill Erick. I did have some amount of personal stake in the matter, though, thanks to Ivy. If I hadn’t known about her experience, I might have chosen to hand Erick over to the Werewolf Council after all. But I know Ivy now, and I know how determined
Ivy's POVWhen I get to the dining hall the next day, the first thing I do is rush towards Beta Wilson. “Where did Prince Spencer go?” I demand. Beta Wilson frowns, looking away. “He’s gone to meet with the Werewolf Council.”My heart plummets, pure dread settling over me as I slowly begin to truly understand what’s happening. I’ve never had to deal with the Werewolf Council in person, thank goodness, but the things I’ve heard about them have been incredibly harsh. Rumour has it that the Council Elders are extremely rigid and strict, over-scrutinizing any behavior that doesn’t adhere to their rules. Every werewolf pack–and every Alpha–fears their rule. In a situation like the one I’ve landed us in, no doubt their reaction will be severe. “Is Spencer in danger?” I ask Beta Wilson. Beta Wilson hesitates. “The situation is… complicated.”“Complicated,” I repeat bluntly, unease welling up in the pit of my stomach. “Define complicated.”“I’m really not supposed to say–”“I’m Spencer’s
Ivy's POVA girl in an elegant dress storms towards Beta Wilson and I. I tilt my head, examining her carefully. I don’t recognize her, but there’s something extraordinarily familiar about her. Her features are delicate and beautiful, her golden hair shining brightly in the early morning sunlight. Her eyes are hazel, impossibly striking. She’s frowning at us, skewering Beta Wilson with a glare, but instead of looking unpleasantly angry, she looks adorably charming.Under her scrutinizing gaze, Beta Wilson’s expression suddenly becomes awkward. “Princess Sylvia,” he says respectfully, averting his attention. All at once, I realize what’s so familiar about her.She looks like Spencer.But Princess Sylvia ignores Beta Wilson entirely. Her eyes fall on his hand, which is still wrapped around my arm to stop me from going to the Lycan King’s office. The moment Beta Wilson notices Sylvia looking at his hand around me, he lets go as if he’s been electrocuted. “Who are you?” Princess Sylvia
Ivy's POV“If the Werewolf Council Elders learn the truth, I’ll be put to trial immediately.”I suck in a deep breath before continuing my confession. “The Lycan Royal Family will finally have peace again. Maybe that’s what you want to see?” I tilt my head at Princess Sylvia, narrowing my eyes at her and hoping she’ll take the bait. If the princess sends me to the Werewolf Council, I can finally face the retribution I deserve, thus avoiding a war between the Lycans and the werewolves. “Miss Ivy is making things up. None of that is true!” Beta Wilson says immediately, eyes shifting nervously back and forth. I glare at him. “I killed Erick, and you saw it happen, Beta Wilson. I’m telling the truth,” I insist. “The Moon Goddess can bear witness.”My vow falls over Beta Wilson and Princess Sylvia heavily, plunging the room into silence. No one can lie before the Moon Goddess. Princess Sylvia stares at me intensely, seemingly unable to understand why I’d offer myself up for trial. She
Spencer's POVOut of the thirteen Werewolf Council Elders in the room, I’d say a little over half of them look like they want to kill me.Better than usual, if I’m being honest. In the council meeting room, thirteen elders are sitting solemnly on either side of a broad rectangular table. Some of them–the most malicious of the bunch–have their sharp eyes fixed on me, watching me warily as though ready to tear me apart at any moment.I don’t let their visible tenseness rattle me, though. Compared to the anxiety clearly wrought through their postures, I make sure to seem completely, utterly at ease. One of the elders–Elder Jet, whom I know has taken a personal interest in disrupting the balance between the werewolves and the Lycans–clears his throat. The sound rattles about the room.“Lycan Prince Spencer,” Elder Jet booms, “Why did you execute Alpha Erick without authorization?”I purse my lips. I’ve prepared for this question. “Alpha Erick had long conspired to kill the Obsidian pac
Spencer's POVI’ve been stuck in a Werewolf Council suite for two days now, and there’s no indication I’ll be leaving anytime soon.It’s a massive, luxurious suite, with elegant furniture and fresh flowers and beautiful art on the walls, but I know it’s nothing but a pretty prison. Under the guise of protecting me, Elder Jet had numerous werewolf warriors stationed outside the building. I know what they’re really here for, though.They’re here to stop me from leaving. A sharp knock at my door shakes me from my thoughts. At the very least, they’ve let me bring my work here with me, but I’m too scatterbrained to focus on it much. I heave a sigh, checking the time on my watch. Lunch. I walk over to the door and open it up. A maid is waiting there, wheeling a food cart in. “Prince Spencer,” she says in a sultry voice, wheeling the cart into my room. She peers up through her eyelids and smiles at me suggestively. I purse my lips, looking at her outfit. Her neckline has been pulled low,
Spencer's POVAs soon as I enter the meeting room, I detect a strange smell.My nose wrinkles in distaste. The smell is burnt, almost acrid. My stomach turns. I can’t quite place the scent, but something about it makes it uneasy. My attention dwells swiftly, though when I look around the meeting room. Only Elder Jet and the other radicals are present. “What is this?” I ask, immediately alert. “Where are the other elders?”“You sound on edge,” Elder Jet says with a smug grin. “The rest of the council has other matters to attend to. We’ll be representing the entire council today.”It’s a setup. And an obvious one at that. But Elder Jet hasn’t revealed his hand just yet, which means it’s too soon to confront him. “What were the results of the investigation?” I ask. Elder Jet’s grin widens. “Our findings have confirmed that you, Prince Spencer, fearing the merger of the Thunderclaw pack and the Obsidian pack, took matters into your own hands in order to ensure it never succeeded. In
Ivy's POVThe halls of the Werewolf Council building are deathly silent. The warriors who brought me have since been dismissed, and now it’s just myself and Beta Wilson, who–out of concern for Spencer–has accompanied me all the way here. I rub the skin of my wrists anxiously. They’re still sore from the rope that was used to tie me up. Beta Wilson and I roam the halls in an eerie quiet, scared to disturb the seemingly unnatural peace that has fallen over the building. “Where are we going?” I ask Beta Wilson nervously. He frowns, looking back and forth anxiously. “I’m not quite sure–”Suddenly, I spot Veronica out of the corner of my eye, haunting the council hallways like a ghost. I whirl around in shock. “Veronica?” I call out, hardly believing what I’m seeing before me. Last I checked, Veronica had been escorted to the Werewolf Council as a traitor and a criminal. She doesn’t look like a prisoner, though. If anything, she looks like a guest. Her clothes are well-made and elegan
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