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12. No More Heirs
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The Wicked Werewolf Prince 13. The Silver Dagger
[ELARA] Ruelle finds me just as I’m about to leave my quarters to visit Alec and put an end to his suffering. “Elara,” she greets me cheerfully, extending her arms. For a moment I hesitate — the silver dagger is still in my hand but she hasn’t noticed it yet. I discreetly slide it up my sleeve and wrap the other arm around her. “I’m sorry for my brother’s behavior.” She’s now changed into a sheer beige gown held at the shoulders with pins shaped in the form of werewolves. I don’t know what metal it is, but it looks like silver. “Has he always been like that?” I ask her as she guides me back into the quarters. “I’m sure he was dropped on his head as a baby. Or a mage cursed him to always only say stupid shit. But he's always been charming I suppose, considering the number of woman that practically fall on his feet. He won his first battle against a rebel pack in Tassel at fourteen after all,” she answers, shrugging. Her blue eyes twinkle in the scant light that lights the chamber.
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 14. The Cure
[ELARA] Morgana squats down, levelling her eyes to my face but she still towers over me, figuratively. I feel intimidated by her and I have no clue what she’s going to do next. But what she does do, surprises me. She tosses the daggers at my feet. “Go ahead, kill him. That way you won’t even give him a chance of coming back,” she declares, sighing. “What do you mean?” I hiss, glaring at her. “He’s never going to be himself again.” She snickers. “If I had a coin for every time someone underestimated me and then learnt otherwise, I’d be richer than the fucking king of Caelondor.” “How will you cure him?” I ask foolishly. But then I know it. She’s a witch. A mage. Now the sensation I feel around him makes sense. I shake my head, refusing to get distracted. “There’s no cure to rogueness. You’re a liar.” Morgana raises an eyebrow at him as if she can’t comprehend what I’m saying. “What good would lying about this do to me? No, seriously. Don’t trust me. Put this dagger through his hea
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 15. The Court
[ELARA] As I enter the grand courtroom, the air is thick with the stench of wealth and arrogance. The room is adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of valor and conquest, and the polished marble floor reflects the golden light emanating from the crystal chandeliers above. They’re the colour of Magnus’ eyes. The ones that I hate now, more than anything in the world. Courtiers and advisors in their finest attire fill the space, engaged in hushed conversations and exchanging formal greetings. Ruelle’s grip on my arm tightens. It’s meant to reassure me but all it does is push me further in a state of restlessness. As I make my way through the crowd, I catch glimpses of familiar faces, people I met at my wedding. Some of them presented me with gifts while they complimented the hospitality of my pack. These were the same people that mocked me later at the banquet by the riverside. Their eyes betray their smiles, revealing their true feelings as they observe the mysterious out
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 16. A Fragile Alliance
[ELARA] “Come on, Elara,” Magnus urges, his voice barely containing his fury as his hand comes to rest on my arm. I flinch at the contact, burnt by his touch. When I see my arm, the skin there has turned a shade of pink. This is Morgana’s work. I know it. “There’s a council meeting now, Prince,” an old, toothless man tells Magnus but he dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “Later, Lord Jaromir,” he mutters. Ruelle calls out my name from a distance. Reflexively turning, I notice her rushing towards me through the departing crowd of courtiers, her face red with worry. I know she wants to warn me, but it’s too late now. Magnus notices that my legs have turned to stone, and yanks at my arm. His grip is too tight, the pain searing through my flesh. ‘It’s more than just a physical grip,’ I think to myself. A low growl escapes his lips before he begins dragging me away. I hesitate, resisting his pull but then he shoots me a glare that kills every rebellious fiber within me. I stu
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 17. The Witch's Den
[ELARA] I dismount from the horse and land firmly on my feet. Magnus looks at me and nods, signaling for me to follow him. We’re away from the palace, about half a mile away, I presume, as I look back at it from a distance. We walk a few steps, surrounded by trees so high that I crane my neck trying to find their crowns. Night is starting to fall, the sky taking on a sinister shade of gray streaked with red. We stop at a lone hut standing upright in a clearing. It’s too small to contain anything significant inside. But when Magnus actually throws the door open, I see a trapdoor in the floor. It opens with a creak, revealing a series of stairs. I follow Magnus quietly, too intrigued to speak. It’s not long before we’re faced with a weird-looking door. Morgana is the first person I spot when the intricate locks on the gilded door click and twist, before it swings backward to reveal what I presume is a witch’s den. I wonder how long she has been staying here to set up all of this.
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 18. Beyond The Curtains
[ELARA] When I open my eyes, it takes me a moment to remember where I am, which tells me how well I slept. I don’t know what brought me comfort—whether it was the satisfaction I felt for doing right by Beatrice, or having my wolf back in talking terms with me, or thinking that my husband isn’t a heartless man after all. Seeing that side of Magnus, soft and vulnerable, has definitely changed the dynamics between us. And after the words exchanged between us yesterday, I can only hope he’ll be up for talking rather than have me guess his thoughts. His words ring back in my ears: Step one foot out of the line and you’ll find yourself entangled in courtly politics, and soon you’ll be a pawn in their game ready for disposal whenever needed. Is that really what’s going down behind the friendly faces I’ve come across the court? They have never been friendly to me, of course. I’m a stranger, unwelcome and not up to the standards they’re used to. But there’s always a general state of calmne
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 19. Eldric's Legacy
[MAGNUS] ‘Fuck you, Magnus.’ I can’t get it out of my head. I just can’t. The council meeting has been going on for the last few minutes, but I find myself zoning out every few seconds. My mind keeps recalling Elara’s reaction when she entered my chamber earlier this morning. While Morgana was riding on top of me. Nothing could’ve prepared me for that. Not for when she entered. And definitely not for how she reacted. ‘Fuck you, Magnus,’ she mumbled, her voice too quiet due to the shock. After that she sprinted out and I haven’t seen her since—she wasn’t in my old chambers, or with Ruelle. That’s probably a good thing because I don’t know what I’m going to say to her. Morgana laughed about it; somehow it aroused her further. But there was no way I was going to continue. I asked her to leave right then—the disappointment on her face was something I couldn’t miss. Alistair is not at fault, I knew that before he even tried to explain himself. Elara is stubborn. She’ll do what
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 20. Love and Poison
[ELARA] Pain shoots up my arm and reaches my skull the moment Alec’s fangs pierce the flesh there. It’s excruciating and I’m thrown back by the impact, knocked off my feet as a reaction to it. I bite on my teeth so I don’t scream. I don’t want to alert the guards. They could hurt him. They could kill him when they see the bite mark on my arm. Even though his arms sear as they try to reach me through the silver bars, he doesn’t stop. Alec wants me dead; I can see the murderous look in his eyes. Just a moment ago, I was hoping there was nothing holding us apart, but now I can’t be more grateful for those silver bars. He tricked me into thinking he was harmless… until I extended my arm inside the cell to touch his cheek. And then he came at me, like he had done inside the tent. Furious like a beast. My arm begins to throb, the flesh starting to turn a shade of reddish-black as blood trickles down to the muddy ground at an alarming rate. Lila’s panic is mingled with mine. But he
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