All Chapters of The Lycan Prince Maid: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

POV: CalebThe attack came at dawn, exactly as the scouts had predicted, and I stood at the palace's outer defenses watching Fabian's forces emerge from the tree line in an organized formation, considerably larger than his usual raiding parties."This is a probing assault," Varric said beside me, studying the formation through a spotting scope. "He is testing our strength ahead of something bigger, most likely.""The ritual," I said. "He's confirming what we are capable of doing before the blood moon actually arrives.""That's my take as well."I turned to address the assembled defenders — Lycan soldiers, wolf pack fighters, and a contingent of Thorne's warriors who had arrived early, ahead of the full Bear army still marching toward us."Hold formation," I called, my voice carrying clearly across the gathered ranks. "We fight as one unit, exactly as we've trained these past weeks. No hesitation between our peoples, no gaps in our coordination."The order was passed through the ranks

POV: FabianThe wound along my ribs hadn't healed properly, the healer's stitching did little to ease the sharp pain that flared with every movement, and I sat in my private chamber nursing both the injury and the sting of failure that cut considerably deeper.Rourke entered without knocking, his expression grim enough that I braced myself before he had to say anything. "The officers are questioning the assault," he said. "They are speaking openly, in front of the remaining forces. They lost considerable numbers for nothing, my lord. We took no prisoners nor gained any advantage, it was simply a confirmation that the crown's alliance is much stronger than any of us anticipated.""I'm aware of the outcome, Rourke. I don't require it to be repeated.""Understood. But you should know — some of them are questioning whether continuing to follow your leadership serves any purpose beyond your own personal ambition."The accusation cut deeper but it is to be expected if I were to think abou

POV: GinaThe great hall had been arranged in a simple setting for the evening.There was a long table, warm light, no formal seating chart dictating who sat where, which felt like what we needed after weeks of detailing, planning and formal council sessions, like exactly the right kind of gathering before everything ahead."I guess this will be the last chance for anyone to back out gracefully," Keith said, settling into his seat beside Lena, a familiar grin masking whatever nerves he actually buried beneath the humor."Not happening," Lena said, elbowing him lightly. "You are stuck with all of us, Commander."Thorne, seated near the head of the table, allowed himself a rare, genuine laugh. "I have faced worse company while preparing for considerably smaller battles.""High praise," Maren said dryly, and the table dissolved into easy laughter, the gallows humor of people who understood exactly what waited ahead choosing, deliberately, to find lightness in each other's company rather

POV: LenaThe western flank held for the first twenty minutes, and then the Migroir's second wave hit us all at once, breaking whatever careful formation we'd managed to maintain.The Migroir beings were assembled wrong, they had grey-black skin stretched too tight over limbs that bent at extra joints, elbows and knees folding backward as easily as forward, so that even standing still they seemed to be caught mid-collapse. Their faces were the worst part: mostly human, but with wide, unblinking eyes that tracked us without a flicker of fear or feeling. "They don't fight like any opponents I have ever trained for," one of my soldiers yelled, dodging a blow from a creature whose joints twisted in ways that made my stomach churn just watching its movements."They don't experience fear," Keith shouted back, slicing through Migroir's vulnerable side with ruthless precision. "No pain response either, from what I've observed. Focus on disabling their limbs instead of inflicting wounds for e

POV: LucienIt had been over twenty years since I last fought on the front lines, and my body was a constant reminder of that fact with every strike I delivered, muscles aching in ways they hadn't during the careful, controlled sparring sessions I had kept up for fitness rather than true combat readiness."Hold the formation!" I yelled, driving my blade into a Migroir's exposed shoulder joint, watching it stagger but not collapse, just as the reports had warned. "Target the joints! That's the only way to disable them effectively!"The central line barely held, our soldiers quickly adapting to the Migroir's unnatural fighting style despite the visible exhaustion etched on every face around me."My King!" One of my captains shouted, urgency in his tone. "Movement from the southern approach — it's organized, not following Migroir patterns!"I turned and felt a chill of recognition wash over me. Fabian's forces were emerging from the treeline in disciplined formation, clearly aiming to ta