Ivy's POVSomehow, despite being possibly mortally wounded and bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, Princess Sylvia is able to bring everything back to her relationship issues. I can’t help but roll my eyes at her, grateful that the darkness will prevent her from seeing it clearly. In her words, I feel as though the rude spoiled princess from the palace has returned–the one who had me sent to the Werewolf Council and tried to torture me over a round of etiquette lessons. I don’t actually feel all that frustrated or afraid, though. It’s sort of relieving to catch a glimpse of the Sylvia I’m used to. If she has the energy and the capacity to be feisty, maybe the situation isn’t quite as bad as I thought. Maybe she’s actually got a chance of making it out of here alive“Beta Wilson does care about you,” I reassure Princess Sylvia gently, finding her shoulder through the darkness and squeezing it reassuringly. I think back to the conversation Wilson and I had in the garden. “Even if
Ivy's POV“I’ve got him!” Princess Sylvia whispers through the darkness. Her head lolls weakly, and she suddenly seems much less healthy than she did before. “What–what do I say?” My stomach plummets. I reach for the princess’s hand and squeeze it, then drop my fingers to her wrist to keep track of her pulse. It’s there, but seems weaker than I’d like. Princess Sylvia is in desperate need of medical attention. I don’t know how much time we have.“Tell him where we are,” I advise.“I don’t know where we are!”I grit my teeth. “Tell him the name of the area you wanted me to be imprisoned in, then, and tell him we’re hiding in an animal cave in the side of the mountain. That should help.”“Alright.” Princess Sylvia doesn’t even seem to have the decency to sound ashamed of her actions as she relays the information to Beta Wilson. “Tell him you’re injured, too,” I add. “He could probably bring us medical supplies–at the very least, something to help you with the pain.”“What pain? I’m
Ivy's POV“Because I don’t want Spencer to die!”My eyes widen at the princess’s confession. “What do you mean you don’t want Spencer to die?” I ask. “I thought me dying would only weaken him–are you telling me it would kill him?”Princess Sylvia sighs. “That part is true–in theory, it would only weaken him, because you’re his mate and you performed the Blood Oath Ceremony together. But the Lycan Royal Family is at war now, and Spencer is right there out on the battlefield. If you were to be killed, the pain it would bring Spencer could cost him his life in the heat of combat. Spencer is the Crown Prince, the future Lycan King. And I have to put my family first. So I had no choice but to try and save you.” I fall into stunned silence. Princess Sylvia smiles at me wryly, a bit of blood dribbling out of her mouth. “Does that upset you?” She asks. “To know I only saved you for the sake of the Lycan Royal Family?”“I don’t… I don’t know,” I manage, still stunned by her words. She chuck
Ivy's POV“We need to move.”The words leave my mouth in a hiss. I scoop Princess Sylvia up into my arms, praying I’m not jostling her too badly as I look frantically around the cave for somewhere tucked-away to hide her. “What are you doing?” Princess Sylvia whispers angrily, pushing at my chest weakly. “Put me down!” “Fine.” I’ve already found where I need her to be anyway. I set her down behind a little stone outcropping that will hopefully conceal her from view, then grab a couple strewn-about sticks and leaves and scatter them nearby. My haphazard heap of materials mostly obscures the princess from immediate view, looking almost like the abandoned nest of some long-gone critter. I pray it’s enough to divert any attention away from her. The footsteps continue to shuffle around the woods, but I can’t quite manage to gauge their distance. “I’m gonna need you to be real quiet, now,” I whisper. My plan is simple: I’m going to use myself as a diversion to distract whoever’s out t
Ivy's POVBeta Wilson’s clothes are streaked with blood. I want to cry with relief upon seeing him here to rescue us, but I have to suppress them, knowing now isn’t the right moment. Because Beta Wilson’s clothes are streaked with blood, which means that something is very, very wrong. “What happened?” I ask, crawling out of the cave and leaning against the mountainside in shock. I look up at him. The blood splatter on his clothes looks like it was left by slashing wounds, and there’s so much of it I can’t tell if any of it is Beta Wilson’s. “Are you okay?” “I’m alright,” Beta Wilson assures me quickly. “But as I was searching the woods for you and the princess, I encountered a raging Lycan nearby. I tried to speak with him, but he was extremely aggressive, and ended up attacking me first. I had to fight him.” He lowers his head, somewhat ashamed. “I’ve never seen anything like it, Miss Ivy. Or–well. I’ve seen something like it once.”Beta Wilson averts his gaze, and I know he’s ta
Ivy's POV“We need to go.”I look up at Beta Wilson in surprise. He’s spent the past little while taking care of Princess Sylvia–applying bandages, cleaning out wounds, and speaking to her in a hushed voice–but there’s a concern to his voice now that takes me off guard. “We don’t know how many more enemies are out there,” Beta Wilson says. “I’ve managed to get the princess stabilized enough for transport now, but I don’t want to risk us staying here any longer.”I nod. I’m about to ask what our next steps are when suddenly I realize that Beta Wilson is here alone with us–there aren’t any more of our warriors in sight. “Why isn’t anyone with you, Beta Wilson?” I ask. “Where are the others?”“They’re on their way, but I scouted ahead,” he explains, scooping Princess Sylvia up into his arms. He cradles her head gently, brushing his fingers through her matted hair, and walks towards the cave entrance. “I was worried about their safety, so I figured I’d have a look around first. I’d only
Ivy's POV“Take her.” Beta Wilson rushes over to me as the two werewolf warriors advance on us, pressing us closer and closer together. They grin as they circle us, clearly confident they’ve got their prey cornered. I gasp as Beta Wilson hoists Princess Sylvia into my arms. He turns his sharp gaze to the enemies in front of us, sizing them up warily. The princess’s body feels heavy in my arms, damp with sweat and blood. Her eyes are shut, moving back and forth rapidly behind closed eyelids. Her skin is ghostly pale and glossy. Her lips open and close, murmuring words no one can understand. She’s clearly fallen unconscious, well beyond reach now. She’s burning red-hot with fever. The moment Princess Sylvia is out of his hands, Beta Wilson steps away and shifts into a large brown wolf. With a roar that shakes the treetops, Beta Wilson launches himself into combat, hurling himself at the first werewolf in a flurry of fangs and snapping teeth. The sounds of battle quickly fill the ai
Ivy's POVThe pain never comes. I crack an eye open, surprised that the enemy’s claws haven’t landed on me. As the enemy frantically swings his massive paw towards me, claws out, a mysterious gray wolf suddenly lunges towards me and knocks the enemy away. I scream, stumbling backwards at the sight of the wolf. He doesn’t even bat an eye at me, taking advantage of the enemy werewolf’s disorientation. His jaws lock around the werewolf’s throat, and in an instant, he’s dead. Blood splatters onto the gray wolf’s fur, but he doesn’t seem concerned with it in the slightest. I lock eyes with Beta Wilson. ‘Who is he?’ I mouth. ‘No idea,’ Beta Wilson mouths back. The gray wolf shifts fluidly into his human form–tall and broad-shouldered, with tousled black hair and piercing hazel eyes. He doesn’t spare myself or Beta Wilson a second glance, turning instead to the deceased wolf lying at his feet. “Useless trash!” He spits at the fallen enemy, snarling viciously. “Even with the potion’s he
Spencer’s POVIvy and I exchange a single look, and it’s like we can read each other’s minds. Without even having to speak the words aloud, we turn away from Elder Jet’s corpse in unison and rush towards the ongoing scuffle. After having spent so long stuck on this battlefield together, and thanks to the months we’ve spent learning more and more about one another, strengthening our bonds, it feels like we’ve moved past typical forms of communication in so many ways. Ivy and I don’t need to tell each other our strategy–as I make my way behind the witch, and as Ivy swiftly leaps in front of her, I know what she’s trying to do. Ivy throws her body between the witch and Wilson. “Stay back!” She snarls, teeth snapping wickedly. Her snow white fur is streaked with blood, like berries crushed underfoot on a cold winter day. “Elder Jet is dead now. His cause is ruined. There’s nothing for you here.” “Foolish girl,” the witch rasps, extending her free hand and pointing one long finger towar
Ivy’s POVAs I scan the battlefield impatiently, doing my best to figure out where I could be the most helpful, all I can see is need. Spencer’s announcement on how to best take down the rebel werewolves has certainly been incredibly beneficial to the Lycan warriors. As I watch the battle continue to play out, the warriors are now employing tactics more or less reliant on grace or dexterity to make sure they can have the upper hand as much as possible. And while it’s encouraging to see the warriors continuing to make the best of the situation they’re in, adapting to the difficulties of such ruthless and magically enhanced opponents, there’s still so much death here. The Lycan warriors are getting more and more exhausted with each second that passes, and one side effect of those blasted potions seems to be enhanced stamina. Despite all our efforts to make sure the warriors have as much support as possible to do what they need to do and conclude this battle once and for all, we’re sti
Spencer’s POVThe skin of Elder Jet’s throat splits like silk beneath my claws. The last sound he ever makes is a small gasp, as though even after everything he’s said about accepting his fate, he’s still somehow surprised that I’d actually do it. For just a few moments, blood gushes liberally from the ragged wound in his throat–his weak heart pumping out blood with its last bits of strength. But as soon as his heart gives out, the blood flow stops its torrent. I raise my gaze back up to Elder Jet’s face. I want to feel something as I look over him–the wounds marring his features, his matted, stained fur, the glassy lifelessness in his eyes–but I don’t feel a thing. I pull away from Elder Jet slowly, staring at his corpse splayed out on the grass. This is the man who tried to kill me. Who tried to kill Ivy. Who succeeded in killing my father. He’s twisted and manipulated the minds of countless young werewolves, many of whom are no doubt dead thanks to him. Every action in his miser
Spencer’s POVWhen I see Elder Jet pinned beneath Ivy’s strong hold, the first thing I feel is pride. Over the course of knowing her, I’ve seen Ivy reclaim her own strength and power against all odds. When no one else believed in her, she believed in herself, and she’s been able to accomplish amazing things because of it. The sight of her now, able to so easily control such a powerful and influential man despite having been teetering on the verge of death so long ago… I’m so proud of her. I stalk towards Ivy and Elder Jet with a bold grin. “Thank you for taking care of him, Ivy,” I say. “Would you like me to handle things from here?” “It would be my pleasure,” Ivy replies. She strikes him across the face–just once, swiftly and harshly enough to open up a rather sizeable welt on his upper right cheek. As Elder Jet is still reeling from the blow, Ivy releases her hold on him and allows me to take her place. Before Elder Jet can even register the switch, I’ve got him firmly in my gr
Ivy’s POVThe sensation of Elder Jet’s skin tearing beneath my claws is one of the best things I’ve felt in a long, long time. Elder Jet lets out a sharp cry of pain as my claws rip into him. I can feel hot splashes of blood splattering up onto me, and I only curl my talons deeper. Elder Jet’s cry bleeds into a shout as I rip my paw back, tearing a ragged hunk of flesh out of his shoulder. “You,” Elder Jet snarls, looking up at me with an expression of profound loathing as he curls his lip at me and takes a step back. “Me,” I repeat with a smug grin, shaking the bits of viscera out of my claws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gamma Everly doing her best to limp away. Elder Jet doesn’t pay her any mind, though. His gaze is focused on me like a laser, and I can tell I’m his only focus right now. “You should be dead right now,” Elder Jet stammers out. His speech is already starting to slur from the blood loss. “After that potion we gave you, after the injuries, after–I killed
Ivy’s POVThe moment Spencer gets tossed back into the throes of battle, I know the final wave of combat has begun. I don’t waste a moment before shifting into my wolf form. I can feel the familiar surge of power rushing through my body. Every flex of my muscles, every arch and twist of my graceful limbs seems to be crackling with barely-restrained strength. My fur is as white as pure snow right now, but I know it’s only a matter of time before it becomes stained pomegranate red. My razor-sharp fangs, sharp as knives, are bared menacingly as I look around expectantly and grin. “None of you could kill me!” I shout, muzzle turned upwards towards the sky. I let out a victorious howl. “No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop me!” I pad back and forth, feeling the clots of dirt beneath my paws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can spot the wrought-iron cage that was used to hold me. I lunge towards it, a growl rumbling in the base of my throat, and twist its metal bars until the cage i
Spencer’s POVAs I rise to my feet, I can feel the full effects of the Moon Goddess’s blessing, and I feel much better than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s odd–ever since this whole fiasco with Elder Jet began, I’ve felt myself constantly on edge. There's been a strange underlying tension to my life. Everything I’ve done in my mad scramble to protect Ivy, every bad decision, every misguided sacrifice I’ve done… All my actions, whether they were right or now, were the result of trying to dodge invisible looming threats. The threat isn’t invisible anymore, though–now, it’s everywhere I look. But there’s a sense of relief to that. I can tell that Elder Jet is finally giving his all now. He’s played every last card he has left to play. And as scary as that may be, considering the magnitude of the threat I’m up against now, I can also feel my resolve building. This is it. The end of the line. The final surge. If we can defeat Elder Jet now, we’ll never have to deal with him or any of h
Spencer’s POVThe battlefield is erupting into chaos all around me, but right now, all I can think about is how beautiful Ivy is. Thanks to the Moon Goddess’s blessing, she seems to be glowing now. There’s a light in her eyes, a fire that’s been ignited deep in her soul. I can sense the strength radiating through her. All her glory, all her grace, all her willingness to fight…I know what Ivy is capable of now, and I’m never going to underestimate her again. “How do we want to do this?” Ivy asks. Her gaze continues to dart around the battlefield frantically, and I can tell that she’s sizing everything up, trying to figure out the best way for our forces to win. I feel an odd sensation of pride, knowing that Ivy is now able to navigate this scene with tact and poise. I trust her instincts. I purse my lips, watching yet another one of my Lycan warriors get picked out by the group of potion-enhanced werewolf rebels. He puts up a fierce fight, but it’s too many opponents for him to fe
Ivy’s POVAs the last beautiful sliver of that eerie red moon vanishes behind the clouds, I suddenly become aware of the eerie silence that’s overtaken the entire battlefield. I look around slowly and am shocked by the sight before me. My lips are still tingling with warmth from the feeling of Spencer’s kiss, but my focus has shifted to the unsettling quiet of the battlefield. Everywhere I look, the combat has seemed to cease. Lycan warriors and rebels alike have gone still, gazes all fixed upon the sky with expressions of profound shock and wonderment. I can understand the sentiment–the blood red moon has been a wonderful thing to behold indeed. But enough to stop an entire battle? I squeeze Spencer’s hand to get his attention. “They’ve all stopped fighting,” I murmur to him. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know,” he replies. Spencer seems every bit as puzzled as I am, gaze flitting around the battlefield restlessly. I follow his focus, though it’s hard for me to dwell on the sight