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128. Trouble Wears Her Name
Last Updated:
2025-05-25 18:51:05
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 142. The Last Breath of Thornhall
[ELARA]It feels like the end of something.Not the kind that’s loud or shattering—but the quiet, inevitable kind. Like a candle burning itself out, or a final breath that leaves the body too softly to be mourned.The gates of Thornhall stand open now, and still, it feels… odd.Thornhall is cloaked in pale winter light. The courtyard crunches beneath boots and hooves, hard-packed snow refusing to thaw even as the sun stretches its long fingers across the stone. I stand just outside the main entrance. People murmur goodbyes, servants scurry with last-minute packs, and still I linger. My fingers curl around the folds of my cloak as I watch the blue roses blooming across the onyx walls. Something in my chest whispers: You won’t see this place again.Lila doesn’t deny the feeling either. She’s not sure, but she feels it too. And the strange thing is—I’m not entirely sorry about it.It should be a comfort, shouldn’t it? To be free of this place. This wretched palace of slithering whisper
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 141. The Burnt Offering
[MAGNUS]Elara’s fingers are gripping mine so tightly, I know before I look—her nails have broken skin. I don’t stop her.Pain is easy. Manageable. Hers isn’t.She’s afraid. Anyone would be if their first encounter with a familiar was one that tried to claw its way through them. Not the friendly ones I have encountered. Or the ones that don’t give a fuck about us werewolves and humans. Creed shifts inside me. A thought that isn’t mine echoes through my bones.‘The shadow's claws were never meant to pierce her.’The words are cool, detached. He isn’t angry. He isn’t kind. He’s just sure.I don’t answer him. Not now.Our steps echo softly as we move past the last corridor, the torchlight fading behind us. The prison is close now—close enough that the wedding’s laughter has been swallowed by stone and silence.I slow my pace.Elara’s still gripping my hand, though her breaths have steadied. I glance down at her.“You ever been on a ship?” I ask, hoping it will distract her mind. It do
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 140. No Safe Haven
[ELARA]The next evening, Edith ties the final lace at my waist, and I stare at the hearth.They’ve replaced the bedding. Swept up the glass. Mended the furniture as though the night before was only a bad dream, easily erased with stitching and polish. But I can still feel the tear in the air, the place where something wicked stepped through and reached for me with clawed fingers.My heart hasn’t stopped racing since.Magnus held me close through the dark, his breath warming the hollow beneath my jaw, but sleep didn’t come. Not truly. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again. That shadow. That shape. I felt it watching, still breathing in the corner of my vision, even when it was long gone.Even walking Thornhall’s halls feels different now. Like I’m prey in a too-quiet forest.I haven’t left Magnus’ side. Not once.And still, I shudder, despite the spell Morgana cast this morning—an enchantment to guard the room’s borders, to seal us in with light and safety.Edith’s voice breaks
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 139. Invited In
[ELARA]A flicker of a smirk touches Magnus’ mouth. He removes his shirt, muscles shifting under his skin. Then pulls on a short, dark cloak—an informal one—unfastened at the front. It falls open, exposing the breadth of his chest, the markings that crawl like inked branches across his back reaching to the front, the ones I now know are the result of poison, of survival, of pain.I try not to look. Truly, I try.But my heart betrays me.I lie down on my side, resting my cheek in my palm, watching him as he walks to the bed. His eyes are already on me, watching me with that quiet intensity that always undoes me.“You’re beautiful,” he says, voice soft as snow melting into moss.When he reaches out and touches my cheek, I lean into his hand before I can stop myself. His exhale is shaky.“What are you thinking?” he asks.I shake my head, my voice barely a breath. “That this feels good. That I missed this. Craved it, actually. All these months…” My throat tightens. “I hated how far away y
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 138. Names We Never Knew
[ELARA]The pyres burn.Golden heat cuts through the snow-covered courtyard behind Thornhall, their light licking at the edges of the dark night, turning icicles into glistening glass and the once-pristine snow into slush. The smoke carries upward, thick, fragrant with resin and ash.I watch it all from beneath the hood of my cloak, my breath curling in front of me.The rogue’s body burns beside the prisoner Morgana used. Neither had names I knew. And yet their end weighs heavy, sinking into the marrow of my bones like sleet.What if the rogue had still had his pack?What if the tether that once kept him sane, kept him human, hadn't frayed and snapped somewhere in the wild?I can only imagine the ache of that kind of separation. The slow unraveling. The way the mind must splinter when it’s no longer anchored to anything but instinct. What happens to a soul when all it has left is hunger and pain?The fire roars louder as if it hears me.Tomorrow, I’ll be at a wedding in the castle’s S
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 137. Of Dresses and Decay
[ELARA]Lady Brook catches me just as I step out into the corridor, the taste of the cinnamon honey porridge from breakfast still lingering on my tongue. Magnus has gone off to meet with Lord Rustyn, something about the guest list for the ceremony, and I’m half-lost in thought when a firm hand wraps around my wrist and tugs me into the shadows of an archway.“Goddess,” I whisper, startled, but it’s only Lady Brook—dark-haired, wry-eyed, and entirely unimpressed by formal entrances.She seats herself on the stone ledge, boots tucked beneath her, and gestures for me to sit beside her. I do. The arch overlooks the lower garden, snow having softened the sharp angles of the land into something gentle and bright. Only the peaks of roofs remain untouched, but beyond that, the glass dome of the greenhouse gleams like a crystal heart. I know the plants are safe in there—protected by old enchantments and the steady heat of a fire-fed system.My gaze lingers.Back in Caelondor, Magnus had a gard
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