Ivy’s Point of View
The silence after their departure was almost peaceful.
Luna Helena stood by the window, watching the procession of servants carry Seraphina’s diminished dowry across the courtyard.
"Luna Helena," I said carefully. "May I ask you something?"
She turned, her gaze softening slightly. "Of course."
"It’s about Lady Margot."
Something flickered across Luna Helena’s face. Wariness, perhaps. Or resignation.
"What about her?"
I chose my words carefully. "I don’t understand her. Alpha Alaric is only her stepson. Which means Dominic and Bastian are merely her step-grandsons. She has no blood connection to either of them." I paused. "So why does she favor Bastian so strongly? Why does she seem so eager for Dominic to die?"
Luna Helena was quiet for a long moment. She turned back to the window, her reflection ghostly in the glass.
"Margot Ashford is a complicated woman," she said finally. "And her history with this pack is... not a pleasant one."
"What do you mean?"
Luna Helena sighed. "She was not always the Alpha’s stepmother. Before that, she was simply a servant girl with ambitions far above her station."
I waited, sensing there was more.
"The old Alpha, Alaric’s father, was a good man. A faithful mate. He loved his Luna deeply and never once looked at another woman." Luna Helena’s voice turned cold. "But Margot wanted power. Status. And she was willing to do anything to get it."
"What did she do?"
"She drugged him." The words came out flat. Matter-of-fact. "One night, she slipped something into his wine and climbed into his bed. By the time he realized what had happened, it was too late. The damage was done."
My stomach turned. "That’s..."
"Despicable? Yes." Luna Helena nodded grimly. "The old Alpha was furious. He wanted to have her executed for what she’d done. But the pack elders intervened. They said killing her would only create more scandal. More whispers. So instead, they forced him to take her as a concubine."
"A concubine." I repeated the word, understanding dawning. "So she got what she wanted after all."
"In a way. But not entirely." Luna Helena turned to face me. "The old Alpha never touched her again after that night. He refused to acknowledge her as anything more than a servant who had overstepped. And they never had any children together."
That explained a lot. Margot had clawed her way into a position of power through manipulation and deceit, but she had no heirs of her own. No blood legacy to carry on her ambitions.
"So she attached herself to Bastian instead," I said slowly. "Because Vivienne is also a concubine. They’re the same."
"Exactly." Luna Helena nodded. "Margot sees herself in Vivienne. Two women who used underhanded means to gain their positions. And she sees Bastian as the son she never had. If he becomes the heir, her faction gains power. Her influence grows."
"And Dominic threatens all of that."
"Dominic is my son. Helena’s legitimate heir." Luna Helena’s voice hardened. "As long as he lives, Margot’s schemes mean nothing. That’s why she’s so eager to see him fail. To see him die."
I absorbed this information, filing it away for later. Margot wasn’t just a nuisance. She was a genuine threat. A woman who had already proven she would do anything to get what she wanted.
Luna Helena seemed to read my thoughts. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Ivy, listen to me carefully." Her voice was soft but serious. "I know Margot is difficult. I know she provokes you. But you must not engage with her directly. She is still an elder of this pack, and openly fighting with her will only make things harder for you."
"But she—"
"I know." Luna Helena squeezed my shoulder. "Believe me, I know. But right now, you need to be smart. Pick your battles. Don’t give her any ammunition to use against you."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to say that letting Margot walk all over me felt like surrender. But I could see the wisdom in Luna Helena’s words. I was new here. Vulnerable. I didn’t have the allies or the influence to take on someone like Margot directly.
Not yet.
"I understand," I said quietly.
Luna Helena smiled, a hint of warmth breaking through her composed exterior. "Good. You’re a clever girl, Ivy. I knew it the moment I saw you standing alone in that council chamber, refusing to back down." She released my shoulder and stepped back. "Take care of yourself. And take care of my son. I’ll visit again soon."
"Thank you, Luna Helena. For everything."
She nodded once, then swept out of the residence, her attendants falling into step behind her.
The door closed, and I was alone.
I stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle around me. Then I turned and walked toward the master bedroom.
Dominic lay exactly where I had left him. Still as a statue. Peaceful as death. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting golden patterns across his pale face.
I pulled a chair beside his bed and sat down, studying him more carefully than I had before.
He really was beautiful. Even like this. Even after six months of lying motionless in this bed. His features were strong, aristocratic. The kind of face that would command attention in any room.
But something was wrong.
I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing. There, on the side of his neck, just below his jaw. The totem markings.
Every wolf had them. Sacred patterns that appeared at birth, connecting them to the source of their power. The markings were supposed to glow with inner light, pulsing gently with the rhythm of the wolf’s spirit.
Dominic’s markings were dim. Almost invisible. Like embers that had nearly burned out.
I remembered Bastian’s words from that night. The night they’d stolen my wedding and dumped me under their bed like garbage.
"Dominic won’t last much longer anyway. The healers give him weeks at best."
At the time, I’d thought he was just being cruel. Wishful thinking from a jealous younger brother who wanted what wasn’t his.
But looking at those faded markings now, I understood.
Dominic was dying. Not just unconscious. Actually dying. His wolf spirit was fading, and once it disappeared completely, his body would follow.
The healers of the Silvermoon Pack had clearly given up on him. They were just waiting for the inevitable. Counting down the days until they could declare the heir dead and hand everything to Bastian.
But they didn’t know what I knew.
They didn’t know who I really was.
I reached out and touched Dominic’s hand. His skin was warm but too still. No twitch of fingers. No flutter of pulse.
"You know," I murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "You’re really quite lucky."
No response. Of course.
I leaned back in my chair, my smile widening.
"Of all the brides in all the kingdoms, you ended up with me." I traced a finger along his knuckles, feeling the faint echo of power beneath his skin. Weak. Flickering. But still there. "A top shaman that comes once in a thousand years."
The room was silent except for the soft sound of my breathing.
"Everyone thinks you’re as good as dead," I continued quietly. "Your brother is already measuring your throne for size. Your intended bride is moaning his name every night. Even your own pack has written you off."
I stood, looking down at his peaceful face.
"But they don’t know what I can do." My voice dropped to a whisper. "And when you wake up, Dominic Ashford, we’re going to make them all regret ever underestimating us."