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32. The Wicked
Priyal DessaiThanks for reading! If you're liking the story, consider voting with gems or leaving a review.
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The Wicked Werewolf Prince 33. Unknown Intentions
[ELARA]Blood trickles from Magnus’ nostrils and down the sides of his face, staining the blanket beneath him scarlet. No, this can’t be happening. The royal physician had managed to stop his nose bleeding before, but he warned us that if it happened again it’d mean he was beyond saving. That he was close to death. “Magnus,” I whisper his name helplessly as I bring a cloth to his nose. He begins to choke, emitting a guttural noise with his eyes closed. “Hold on, Magnus,” I plead. “I’ll call the royal physician. Just hold on.”The distance between the bed to the exit of the chamber, albeit small, seems to stretch for miles. ‘Magnus can’t die, he just can’t,’ I tell myself repeatedly. I even trip on the length of my gray gown and topple over an urn from a table.Alistair is at the door guarding, but he’s not alone. Morgana is with him, and he’s blocking her way. I ignore her and inform him hurriedly, “Magnus… his nose is bleeding again. We have to call the royal physician at once!”“
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 34. The Garden
[ELARA]A few minutes pass in silence before Alistair walks towards me. “Do you trust her?” he questions me, but there’s an edge to his voice as if he wants to add something more but is holding back.I shake my head but not really in denial. “Morgana confuses me. But she provided the magic we needed to save him. She’s right. He needs her.”There’s a pause where Alistair sighs, thinking deep on something. I gather the ends of my gown and sit myself on the edge of the bed, folding my knees.“Do you think anyone can really barge in and attack us here?” I make myself ask. He shakes his head. “It’ll be too risky if I’m being very honest. A poisoning while indiscreet can still be ambiguous.”“Can you tell me about this garden?” Alistair lowers his head as he explains, “Prince Magnus’ mother was poisoned. Since then he has been very hesitant to readily eat anything. He only eats at banquets or with the queen mother in the grand dining hall. Among crowds, where there’s very little chance of
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 35. The Wolf You Don't Like
[ELARA] “Princess Elara, your bath is ready,” Beatrice informs me, bowing. She’s dressed in a dull blue tunic—perhaps that’s the most festive attire she owns. This morning, a raven arrived from King Eldric with a note attached to its feet, which commanded that the palace and the capital residents must flaunt their best garments and welcome him back after his momentous victory against the kingdom of Wyvern. This was taken, as expected, oddly by those at court. We’re merely eight days in the mourning period—which typically lasts for fourteen days here in Caelondor. Wearing gray and observing silence is seen as respect to the dead. But he’s the King. And if that’s his command then that’s what shall be done. I came by the Luna's idol earlier today and it was decorated with bright flowers and wick-lamps. The main hall itself is adorned with garlands, and intricate tapestries—a far cry from its usual plain walls and high torches, and I’m sure I saw a group of dancers preparing in one of
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 36. No Reason
[ELARA] “Magnus!” I call out his name without another thought, catching him mid-turn. Was he trying to run away from me? Avoid me once again and pretend he didn’t see me? I can’t tolerate any more of this. It’s suffocating and beyond annoying. With quick strides, I reach him. Alistair is behind him, of course, like a shadow. “Elara,” he mumbles, his voice coarse. It has been this way since he gained consciousness. His eyes stare intently into mine. His gaze combined with the way he sounds, make me aware of the air touching my arms. “What happened?” “I need to talk to you,” I tell him, my voice faltering as I suddenly realize that this is a bad idea. How do I approach this? ‘Silly, why do you even care?’ Lila taunts me. “I’m occupied right now. The King will arrive shortly. His ship is in view at the coast. I think whatever you have to say can wait,” he responds dismissively. Although he stands firmly, I can see that it's not effortless. Goddess knows what he’s going throug
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 37. Trails of Blood and Decay
Lila's paws pound against the earth, her muscles flexing with each powerful stride. The forest drowns her in a symphony of scents and sounds—the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, the earthy aroma of damp soil. It is a familiar melody, one she has missed dearly during her time confined within the walls of the palace inside the mind of her human counterpart. As she races through the dense foliage, the cool breeze brushes against her fur, sending shivers of exhilaration down her spine. The sensation of freedom surges through her veins, lifting her spirits higher with every bound. She is alive, truly alive, in a way that only the wild can offer.Emerging from the shadows of the forest, Lila reaches the cliff's edge, overlooking the vastness of the Cursed Gulf. The sight takes her breath away—the rolling waves crashing against jagged rocks, the salty tang of the sea mingling with the crisp air.In the distance, a ship appears on the horizon, its sails billowing in the wind as it app
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 38. The King's Arrival
[ELARA]As soon as I can feel my hands again, I begin to wipe the blood that is smeared on my face. As the last of Lila’s fur disappears from my body, and I’m left naked, I can hear my heart once again—it’s pounding furiously. The taste of blood is still evident on my tongue as I reach to the grass-covered ground and pick up the scarlet fabric that Lila just tore off of the dead man’s hand. The man… I know him. He’s a minister at court. I saw him this morning with Magnus in the hallways… and now he’s dead. Murdered. Brutally. And this fabric—as much as I wish it weren’t true—belongs to one of Morgana’s gowns. Which implies that she killed him. Or is clear evidence of her involvement. It’s hard to believe that a plain wish to shift into my wolf form would lead to such a horrifying revelation. I have to tell Magnus about this as soon as I can. I shrug into my silk lilac gown, and brush off the dry leaves that are stuck in my lace sleeves. I comb my fingers through my hair, trying my
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 39. A Diplomatic Dinner
[ELARA]Magnus noticed. Ruelle noticed. Hell, everyone in the hall with their eyes on Eldric noticed that he was staring at me with a smirk. Out of everyone else, me. Elara Wildewood. A beta from an independent pack at a border of the continent with no special powers. A nobody, really. Easily ignored, someone who could blend in. Or so I believed. But no one did anything about it. Even when I looked to Magnus for help, all he responded with was a more clenched jaw and tensed shoulders. And then everything settled—King Eldric walked to his throne and sat himself on it, not before dusting off nonexistent dirt from the velvet seat. He then recited vaguely of the heroism with which Caelondor conquered Wyvern, leaving their enemies crushed. Kian, the dead crowned prince, was briefly mentioned as he informed the masses about the funeral that would happen tomorrow. But then he burst into a wide grin as he revealed that, "There is something good coming."It’s been several hours since that happe
The Wicked Werewolf Prince 40. The Secret Passageway
[ELARA]Dinner is a long affair, extending long past midnight. Platters of food are brought in to replace the empty ones. This is followed by recitation of tales from the battlefield—everyone praises King Eldric after every sentence is spoken. I realize there are commanders of the army among us. I’m not allowed to leave, nor do I get a chance to speak to Magnus as he is occupied in conversations with ministers. Somewhere during the night, Lady Celia requests to retire from the gathering. Ruelle does the same, repeating her mother’s words. I join in too, and thankfully, when King Eldric nods, we’re allowed to go. “You would’ve liked Kian,” Ruelle says sadly as she walks by my side. “He was a good man.”“He’ll be in a better place tomorrow. In the Goddess’ Meadow,” I say, hoping it will comfort her.‘Liar. You don’t even believe in an afterlife,’ Lila mocks me. Ruelle gives me a smile, which is sad too. Her blue eyes are exhausted, but her dark hair is still perfect. “I’ll see you in
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