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43. The New Council
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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
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 49. The Hidden Monster
[MAGNUS]It is close to midnight, and the air is thick with tension. Alistair and I navigate the labyrinthine hallways of the palace, each step measured, each breath controlled. The human soldiers, assigned to guard these very halls, lie in a careless slumber, their soft snores a dangerous symphony we dare not disturb. The dim glow of torches casts flickering shadows that dance on the cold stone walls, and Elara, her form shrouded in a dark cloak, follows silently, her footsteps almost ghostly.We reach the stables, the scent of hay and horses mingling with the cool night air. I pause, throwing a questioning glance at Elara. She has her eyes on me, her fingers pulling her cloak tighter around her slender frame. She’s not turning back. I can see it in the set of her jaw, the steel in her eyes.“Ready?” I ask, my voice a mere whisper but carrying the weight of the world.She nods firmly. “Ready,” she responds, her voice a soft murmur. Her hand lowers to her hip, where a dagger gleams in
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 50. The Beauty
[ELARA]Daphne Elspeth, princess of Wyvern, embodies elegance and flawless beauty. Her presence is radiant, turning heads with every step she takes. Even King Eldric seems unduly captivated by her, ostensibly for her assistance in dismantling the Elspeth dynasty.It baffles me how someone so innocent in appearance could facilitate such devastation. Since her arrival at the palace earlier today, whispers have swirled through the corridors. Some claim she poisoned her own brothers and uncles. Others suggest she slit her brother’s throat, the King of Wyvern, while he slept in his tent.Regardless of the truth, her actions have been effective. She stands as the sole survivor of the Elspeth lineage, the dynasty that ruled Wyvern for centuries. Now, she is their future. But what value does she hold for Eldric?Magnus sits sternly beside me, barely touching his food. His voice has grown hoarse again, and I can see his gaze fixed on Daphne. He is undoubtedly pondering the same questions as I,
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 51. The Lost Heir
[MAGNUS]“I have to go before she comes in,” Elara announces with urgency as she pushes herself off the bed, her eyes darting to the secret doorway. She doesn’t have to go, I think to myself. But then I recall the ruse I must play. I do not care for her—and I have to make them believe it. And yet, I reach out and catch her arm, stopping her just as she's about to leave. Her eyes find mine, and there’s something in them that makes me pause, making me forget that I have a voice, momentarily. This moment is senseless. I’m not being myself. Daphne looms outside my chamber, a danger to us if she spots us together, but here I am struggling to let go of Elara’s arm. ‘Fool,’ Creed echoes in my mind, finally sounding like himself. I tear my gaze away briefly, breaking the trance before I tell her, “I’ll call you back.”She nods, and I notice the way her expression softens. “I'll be waiting,” she replies softly, her words hanging in the air as she walks away, leaving me alone. I feel the
Latest chapter
- The Wicked Werewolf Prince 51. The Lost Heir
- The Wicked Werewolf Prince 50. The Beauty
- The Wicked Werewolf Prince 49. The Hidden Monster
- The Wicked Werewolf Prince 48. The Wolf's Guidance
- The Wicked Werewolf Prince 47. The Letter
- The Wicked Werewolf Prince 46. Reflections of a Prince
- The Wicked Werewolf Prince 45. Supper with the Brooks
- The Wicked Werewolf Prince 44. The Execution
- The Wicked Werewolf Prince 43. The New Council
