MasukIvy’s POV
“Get on.”
Alexander’s voice cuts through the rain like a whip. Harsh and demanding.
Before I can even form a protest, before I can remind him that I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own, he lowers himself to one knee in front of me. His broad frame bends, his wet hair clinging to the back of his neck, shoulders flexing beneath the soaked fabric of his shirt. For a moment, I just stare at him, disoriented. He looks&helli
Ivy’s POVThe courtyard still hums from the echo of Alexander’s declaration when the teachers begin rearranging the stage.A bright banner unfurls across the railings that reads “The Couple’s Game!” in cheerful glittering letters. The children cheer, clapping their hands as the teachers wheel out the glowing game arena.I blink at the sight of it. The field is a huge circle bordered by shimmering light screens. Inside, gleaming stones hover like tiny suns. Every few seconds, one of the stones flashes and launches a pulse of light that splashes harmlessly across the protective boundary. It looks safe enough for the children watching, but clearly designed to test strength and speed.“Now,” Miss Olivia calls through her microphone, “each mother and father will enter as a pair. The task is simple. Protect your partner from the falling stones while hitting the moving bullseyes. The pair who finishes in t
Ivy’s POVFor a long moment, the world stops moving.The crowd around me blurs into a watercolor of colors and sound. All I can see is Alexander.The breeze catches his hair as he walks through the courtyard, dark strands shifting like silk under the sunlight.The balloons in his hand shimmer with reflected light, ribbons of gold and ivory twining around his wrist. I notice the details even before I realize I am holding my breath. The ribbons are threaded with jasmine petals; small, star-shaped blossoms that carry their faint, familiar perfume through the air.My favorite flower.He stops a few feet in front of me. His eyes find mine across the fluttering colors. A hush falls over the courtyard. Children stare wide-eyed, parents whisper.He smiles, slow and devastating, the kind of smile that remembers every secret between us. “You look beautiful, Ivy.”My fingers tighten around Mikel’s
Ivy’s POVThe morning light slips gently through my curtains, painting soft golden stripes across the wooden floorboards.I am halfway through making breakfast when the front door bursts open.“Mom!” Mikel’s small voice rings down the hall before his little feet do, pattering rapidly over the floor. He barrels straight into the kitchen, his cheeks flushed pink from the chill outside, his tiny backpack bouncing against his back.In his hands is a crinkled paper bag from the corner sweet shop. He thrusts it up toward me with both hands, grinning so wide his dimples show.“I brought your favorite candies!” he announces proudly.I laugh, my chest melting in the way only he can make it. “Two scoops? Someone must have missed me a lot today.”“I missed you this much!” He stretches his arms out as wide as they’ll go, then tips forward and hugs my waist tightly
Ivy’s POVEven after all this time has passed, the evening air still feels electric, holding the lingering memory of Alexander’s furious kiss. I can’t stop my hand from reaching up to touch my lips as I step onto my path. He tore through my defenses, and I feel like my skin is still humming from the heat of his touch.But the humming stops immediately.Something is wrong.I see the trucks first; three large, anonymous moving company vans parked directly across the street from my house. They are blocking half the road, and workers in uniforms are hoisting dark, expensive-looking furniture out of a fourth, smaller truck.And then I see Mr. Peterson, my landlord who owns most of the houses on the street, standing next to the long-vacant house right beside mine. He is beaming, his face red with excitement, flapping his hands like a proud pigeon as he supervises the chaos.I walk over, frowning. That house has been empt
Third POVEliza stands in the heart of her modest drawing-room, the scent of stale potpourri a constant, sickly reminder of her reduced circumstances. She holds a porcelain cup, but her hand trembles with a tremor that has nothing to do with the weak tea. It is the shudder of a cage rattling.Oh how, her life had changed!She was once the favored daughter of the Chief Minister, her life a meticulously plotted ascent to the throne.She believed her wit, her beauty, her calculated charm could control every variable, securing Alexander’s love and the exalted position of Queen. Her only concern was polishing her tactics.How naive. How tragically, utterly blind she was.The world she knew came crashing down the moment her father was convicted and imprisoned by Alexander, finally passing away without dignity inside the King’s dungeons.In that instant, she plummeted from the height of court favor to t
Ivy’s POVFor a heartbeat, I cannot breathe.His lips crush against mine, fierce, unyielding, real. Not a fever dream, not a phantom of my longing, but Alexander kissing me here and now.My heart lurches, my wolf howls with aching relief, but my mind reels. He is supposed to be choosing his bride tonight. He is supposed to be smiling at noble ladies and charming their fathers, not dragging me into a corner and claiming me like this.A bolt of panic spears through my chest. I shove at him with trembling hands. “Alexander, stop!”But his grip only tightens, refusing to let me go, his heat overwhelming every inch of me. The confusion, the hurt, the bitter knowledge of what this ball means; it all crashes over me at once. I push harder, writhing against his hold, desperate to free myself.And then it happens.In the tangle of his arm and my struggling hand, my palm slips, the angle sharp, the force too strong to







