Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 81 - Chapitre 90

Beatrice's povI went back to work because staying in bed felt too much like surrender.The fever had broken three days ago, but my body hadn't caught up. Everything felt slightly off, as though someone had shifted the world two inches to the left while I was sleeping and now nothing quite lined up the way it used to. My hands were steady enough to write, my legs carried me where I needed to go, but the exhaustion sat deep in my bones like something that sleep couldn't reach.The worst part was the nausea.It started in the mornings, a low, rolling sickness that rose from my stomach and settled in the back of my throat before I'd even opened my eyes. I learned to lie still for a few minutes after waking, breathing slowly through my nose until the worst of it passed, and then I'd get up and dress and pretend it wasn't happening. By midday it usually eased, but the smell of certain foods brought it roaring back without warning. Roasted meat, which I'd once loved, now turned my stomach s

Beatrice's povI looked at Martin, standing between me and Cedrick with his feet planted and his shoulders squared, and I thought about Callum.My brother in his cell. My brother whose execution order had been withdrawn only because I had promised not to cross Cedrick again. My brother whose life hung on the thin, fraying thread of a king's patience, and that king was standing in the doorway with gold burning in his eyes and the word "choose" still ringing off the walls.There was no choice. There had never been a choice."Martin," I said. "Thank you. For everything but I don't need you to walk me anywhere."Martin looked at me, and I could see the protest forming behind his eyes, the argument he wanted to make, the hand he wanted to extend. His wolf pressed forward, protective and warm, and for a second I almost changed my mind because the warmth was real and I was so tired of being cold."Beatrice," he said quietly. "You don't have to do this.""Yes I do."I stepped around him and w

Beatrice's povSeeing that it was out of his hands, the gamma muttered his thanks to Martin before disappearing down the corridor. The air still smelled like Neah's perfume and the sharp, bitter scent of her mother's anger, and my wolf was still pacing restlessly inside me, processing the aftermath of a fight that had ended before it truly began.Martin watched the Gamma go, then turned back to me."Your problems are my problems," he said. "I thought I'd made that clear by now.""You've made a lot of things clear," I said. "I'm just not sure I believe all of them yet."He smiled at that, "Fair enough. But I need a favor.""A favor." I stared at him. "You just saved me from the dungeon and now you're calling in a debt?""No, not a debt. A request." He leaned against the wall, giving me space the way he always did. "There's a banquet tonight. The annual Alpha Ball. Every pack leader in the region will be there, along with half the court and most of the nobility. I need a guest on my arm

Beatrice's povHis hand found my waist in the dark and pulled me against him.The contact was immediate and total, my chest against his, his arm locked around me, and I could feel every line of his body through the thin fabric of my gown. His wolf flooded the space between us, hot and possessive, and my own wolf reacted before I could stop her, a sharp pull low in my chest that had nothing to do with choice and everything to do with instinct.I twisted against his grip and his arm tightened. I wrenched sideways, hard enough that my swollen ankle gave out and I pitched forward, and he yanked me back before I could fall. The motion was violent and clumsy, and my forehead cracked against his jaw with enough force to make my teeth rattle. Pain bloomed across my skull, and in the same instant his mouth grazed my forehead, not a kiss but something accidental and brief, his lips brushing the skin above my brow where my head had collided with his face.We both went still.Then the lights bla

Beatrice's povI walked.I didn't know where I was going and it didn't matter. My ankle throbbed with each step and the night air was cold against my wine-soaked skin and the white gown clung to my body in patches of crimson that looked, under the streetlamps, like blood. The road outside the estate led downhill through a stretch of cobblestone lined with iron lampposts and old trees whose branches tangled overhead. A couple walking arm in arm glanced at me and then looked away quickly, the way people do when they see something they don't want to be involved in. A man smoking on a bench watched me pass with open curiosity. A woman pulling a child by the hand crossed to the other side of the street.I let them look. I didn't have the energy to care.Kennedy's voice still rang in my ears. Whore. Slave. Luring men. Spreading her legs. The words sat inside me like swallowed glass, cutting me each time I breathed. The worst part wasn't the insults themselves. It was the silence of the roo