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40. The Secret Passageway
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The Wicked Werewolf Prince 41. The Funeral
[ELARA]The Cursed Gulf is calm today—it’s an usual scene. Every time I’ve gazed into this sea, I’ve seen it covered with thunderclouds at the horizon, no matter what time of the day it is. This serene calmness looks like a sign from the Goddess herself as she takes back the dead prince into her meadow. Kian Blackwell is laid onto a wooden pyre, adorned in the finest silk. Mourners surround it, gathering in hundreds over the sands that border the Cursed Gulf. Soulbinders recite the prayers that are meant to release his soul, making it free to cross over to the ethereal realm and into the Goddess’ meadow. When they’re done, King Eldric approaches the pyre, casting one last longing look at the only son he ever had before he places a crown on his chest and retraces his steps. The Queen Mother Seraphina finally makes an appearance just before the funeral ceremony concludes, flanked by her maids. She’s dressed in the color of mourning—a plain gray gown, her face covered in a netted veil.
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 42. Mithridatism
[MAGNUS]“Aren’t you done yet, Magnus?” Nyra’s honeyed voice echoes in the blurry room as she shifts her bare body on the cushioned bench, a teasing look twinkling in her brown eyes. All of her dark curls are parted to one side of her body, that extend from her head to the curve of her waist. “Don’t move, love,” I tell her as I focus on bringing her beauty on the canvas in front of me. It’s hard—not only to focus on painting her when she’s naked in front of me, but also to truly bring every detail on the canvas. “You’re beautiful, Nyra,” the words left my mouth without my notice. She chuckles, her figure disintegrating only to fit back up again like pieces of a puzzle. “Kiss me then,” she commands. The corners of my vision blur a little more. “Come to me,” I tell her as I begin to walk towards her. But with every step I take forward, more distance is created between us. “Come to me, Nyra,” I repeat myself impatiently, now running towards her. But she moves further and further away
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 43. The New Council
[MAGNUS]The moment I step into the council room, my attention is drawn to the painted ceiling. A ladder leans against the wall, atop which stand two humans engrossed in painting a blank section. A smirk touches my lips as I suppress a laugh. A victory over Wyvern—a small kingdom, barely a third the size of Caelondor—certainly doesn’t deserve to be immortalized there.Eldric sits in his regal chair at the center of the table, watching the painters with proud eyes. As soon as I take my seat, he regards me with his gruff yet cool voice, “Ah, nephew! How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence. The sand clock… give it to me.”He opens the palm of his bandaged hand. An unhealed wound? A battle wound? Eldric quickly withdraws his hand when he notices me studying it. He brings forward his other hand, and I carefully place the sand clock in it. Clear nervousness flickers across his face before he shakes it away.“Shall we begin?” Eldric asks the ministers seated quietly around the
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 44. The Execution
[ELARA]The crowd in the palace courtyard forms a restless sea of faces, each etched with curiosity and grim anticipation. I stand at a distance beneath a stall roof reserved for the royal family's viewing of executions, should they choose to attend. At my side is Magnus, his shoulders tense, lips sealed in anger. He clenches and unclenches his fists repeatedly, struggling to maintain composure.Silent, he stares straight ahead, fixated on the gray stone slab where Morgana will meet her fate today. As the hour approaches, the crowd's murmurs fade into tense silence. The creak of scaffold steps draws my attention, and I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the condemned woman being led forward. My breath catches as I recognize Morgana, once a woman of strong will and sharp intellect, now reduced to a trembling figure in a tattered red gown, her black hair disheveled.Morgana’s lips move frantically, but no words escape. She stumbles, the guard at her side tightening his grip, almost drag
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 45. Supper with the Brooks
[ELARA]I have no mind for supper or even for plain conversation with anyone, but when Lady Brook shows up outside my chamber, I have no choice but to go with her, my actions wrapped in a facade of politeness. Her consistent efforts are commendable, but they make me uneasy, even though her smiles always seem genuine and heartfelt.Her chamber in the palace is spacious, showcasing little in the way of furniture or luxury, yet it is pleasing to the eyes. Lord Brook is there too, sitting in one corner of the chamber, his head bent over papers as he pretends to focus on them. However, every time I glance at him, I find his eyes on me with a creepy look that makes my skin crawl.The cozy chamber is illuminated by the gentle glow of a few well-placed candles, prepared for a small, intimate supper. A small, round table is draped in a fine linen cloth embroidered with delicate patterns of vines and flowers. At its center, a single silver candelabrum holds three beeswax candles, their warm ligh
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 46. Reflections of a Prince
[MAGNUS]The air in the palace has been cold and hollow since Morgana's execution. As I walk the corridors, the weight of her absence presses on my shoulders like a cloak of iron. The echoes of her final croaked screams haunt the walls, and every time I close my eyes, I see her severed head being dangled before the crowd. Her eyes, once so full of fire and determination, now lifeless and cold. The memory is a torture, one that I cannot escape.Another death in my name. Another person whose life ended because they supported me. And I could do nothing to protect her. Is this what I am? A weak prince, incapable of protecting my subjects? Why do I even deserve to become king someday?No matter how much I prepare, Eldric is always one step ahead. He works immorally. Nothing holds him back; he'd do anything to keep himself in power. And it is this power that lets him do anything.No one dares question this execution. No one asks why a trial was never held before the sentence was passed. No
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 47. The Letter
[MAGNUS]I’m not going to finish writing this letter tonight. I know it. Every few seconds, I glance up from the scroll into the dark night through the open window—thinking of Ruelle, Morgana, and the last words Lady Celia spoke to me: "If anything happens to my daughter, I will not forgive you."If anything happens to Ruelle, I will never be able to forgive myself. Maybe that will be the last event that will divert my cause. I’ll retire to the Great Woods and find a place in the independent packs, leaving this Goddess-forsaken life of royalty behind. Maybe that is what I should do now before I lose anyone else.The face of my mother flashes across my mind—disappointed. She never taught me to give up.I must avenge the lives of my father, Nyra, and now Morgana. Eldric will suffer a fate worse than death, one he deserves.“What are you doing, Magnus?” Elara’s soft voice reaches me through the stilled darkness of the chamber. She’s leaning on her elbows, looking up from the bed at me, wh
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 48. The Wolf's Guidance
[MAGNUS]A lump forms in my throat at the thought. Why do my ears feel like they’re burning?"Why?" I make myself ask."I'm not going to try anything. I'm not that woman." She lets go of my arm and clasps her hands together as she seems to choose her next words. Then, closing her eyes, she mutters in a single breath, "Because last night I woke up from a nightmare and thought someone was here. It morphed from Eldric to Morgana to Alec’s rogue face. And I’m scared.”"Alright," I say and slip under the blanket. When she blinks at me in shock mingled with relief, I wonder if I should say something more. Deciding that I’m not sure what I could possibly say, I turn my back to her with no intention of sleeping anytime soon.A few seconds later, the sheets rustle and she shifts, likely lowering herself on the bed, closing her eyes. But even after a couple of minutes pass, Elara’s breath doesn’t get steady.I do my best to hold back, but then the urge to turn around and talk to her, to find out
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