Ivy froze as the two wolves stepped out of the treeline, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. One was dark-furred and bristling despite its fear, the other warm, brown-gold, and whimpering. They were just pups, barely more than cubs, and they were terrified. She should have run.
Any sane person would have run. But something in their eyes, something desperate and young, made her step forward instead. Then, by some miracle, the bear turned and lumbered back into the trees. Years later, Ivy would still remember that moment as the one that changed everything.
Because those two wolf pups grew up into princes. And they never forgot what she’d done. She pulled back immediately when she felt the heat of him behind her. But Caius was faster, slipping behind her before she could react, his chest pressing against her back while his brother Bain watched from a few paces away.
Both of them went still when she made a soft sound of protest. I don’t think we should, she whispered. Why not? Caius murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
Because I love you both. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and true. She watched Bain’s jaw tighten while Caius pulled back, and she knew she’d just broken something that could never be fixed. How do you even know all these words?
she asked him another time, a different conversation, another night. He knew things he shouldn’t, terms and phrases that made no sense for a prince to know. Tell me who your father was. Tell me why you’re not like anyone else in that castle.
Bain looked away. I never wanted you to know. Not this way. She still didn’t understand.
Not for a while. For how long? she demanded. Bain’s voice came out flat and controlled.
We should go. But she persisted. Tell me. Tell me how you know all these things I don’t.
Tell me who your father was. Bain shook his head. She’s upset, he said, still not looking at her. Caius watched them both, something unreadable in his expression.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Bain’s voice came again. We should go. It wasn’t an answer, and she knew it.
But she let them go anyway, because pressing further would only push them away. And she couldn’t bear that. Chapter two. The ballroom was full of people who smiled with their mouths but not their eyes.
Ivy stood near the edge, watching them all, knowing she didn’t belong. She was a village girl who’d rescued two pups from a bear. That didn’t make her a princess, no matter how much they pretended otherwise. Caius danced with the queen of the northern kingdoms first, then a princess from across the sea, then another dignitary.
Protocol demanded he dance with each important guest before anyone else. Ivy watched his graceful movements, the way he laughed at something his partner said, and felt a familiar ache settle into her chest. It’s only fair, her own voice echoed in her memory. You should dance with them too.
He’d argued about it. She remembered clearly how he’d pulled her aside, his eyes fierce. I don’t want to dance with them. I want to dance with you.
But she’d insisted. Because she knew what the courtiers whispered. They called her nothing. They called her less than nothing.
They speculated about how she’d trapped the princes, what favors she’d traded for her place among them. Then Caius pulled her into his arms and held her tight. Ivy hugged him back, and they did not let go for a long time. Because letting go would mean letting go of each other.
Ivy rode toward home, feeling not happy exactly, but free. They’d held each other for a long time at that last farewell, two people who’d loved each other in the way you love someone who matters, even if they’re not the person you’re meant to build a life with. She sat at the crossroads for a long moment, torn between the comfort of home and the mystery of whatever waited by the lakes. A strange house stood there now, someone had told her.
Someone who’d been waiting for a long time. She turned toward the lakes. The house was small and clean, smoke curling from its chimney. She approached slowly, uncertain, when the door opened and a familiar figure stepped out.
Bain. Her breath caught. He was older now, broader, but his eyes were the same. He stared at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.
You came, he said, and his voice cracked on the words. I didn’t know this was where you’d gone, she said. I thought you were still at the castle. I couldn’t stay there.
Not after everything. He took a step toward her. I waited. Every day, I waited.
Why would you wait for me? Because I never stopped loving you. And then she was moving, closing the distance between them. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, closer, never close enough.
When they finally broke apart, his hands framed her face. Wait, he said, and it clearly cost him. I need to know you’re sure. I need to know you’re not just choosing me because he’s gone.
She understood then. Understood everything. How much it had cost him to step aside. How it had been the only way to set them both free.
How he’d loved her in silence all these years, waiting for her to find her way back to him. I’m sure, she said, and meant it. Bain kissed her again, and she felt the truth of it settle into her bones. This was right.
This was where she belonged. In a small house by the northern lakes, with the man who’d loved her since childhood, building the life they’d always been meant to have. Together.
