IVAN’S POV
I knew I shouldn’t care as much as I did. But I did. I didn’t know how not to care about this.
"Can we talk about sothing else?" I asked, my voice low and constrained. I capped the whiskey bottle, set it aside, and leaned against the edge of my desk. "Surely, you’ve got sothing else to report to ?"
It wasn’t a question—it was a plea. A desperate need to change the subject.
Francis stayed put despite my mood, launching into an update about Ash Creek’s newly imported military gear. The elders’ council seed to be handling the matter efficiently.
As he spoke, I listened keenly, grateful for the distraction.
At dinner, I sat flanked by my elders’ council, while the rest of my pack mbers filled the other seats.
Unlike I’d planned earlier, I didn’t send a letter to Maeve, nor did I invite her and Asha to join us. She had probably arranged for dinner to be brought up to her rooms anyway.
Frankly, it was for the best. I didn’t think I could bear another round of her cold indifference tonight.
Dinner, as always, was a rowdy affair.
Next to , Serena sat stiff-backed, eating with short, angry jabs of her fork. We hadn’t spoken much since yesterday, which I was grateful for.
Fortunately, the rest of the table had plenty to say, filling the space with conversation and laughter.
Halfway through the al, Francis leaned close and murmured, "The priest is right outside the door. He wishes to speak with you."
"Why isn’t he here at dinner?" I asked, glancing up at him.
Francis’s mouth flattened. "He’s refused to eat. He’s been holed up in his study, surviving on water and berries. He’s determined to fix whatever went wrong with the rejection ritual."
"I see." My response was almost disappointed.
Gripping the edge of the table, I pushed my chair back and stood.
"And where are you going now?" Serena snapped, hurling the words at like an accusation. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, her bitterness still sharp.
I turned my head just enough to pin her with a look.
"Out," I said first, deliberately clipped. Then, because I knew she’d press, I added, "The priest is waiting for . So eat your dinner, Serena, and stop looking at like I owe you an itinerary."
Without waiting for a reply, I turned away from her and crossed the room, excusing myself as I stepped through the door.
Revierrie stood pale under the chandelier lights, his fra thinner, his movents restless.
"Your Highness," he said, bowing when I approached. "I’m sorry to pull you away from dinner."
"I heard you wanted to talk," I replied, folding my arms across my chest, giving him my full attention.
"Yes," he said with quiet urgency. "It’s important. I’m afraid it can’t wait."
"What is it?" I prompted, my voice cool but expectant. Behind , Francis leaned against the wall, his hooded gaze fixed on the priest.
"It’s about the separation ritual, Your Highness," he continued, his eyes alight with discovery.
From the excited glint on his face, it was clear this news probably made up for the strain he had been under recently.
"I think I’ve finally found a way around the glitch from last ti. Suffice it to say, we can hold the ritual again."
"I see," I replied calmly.
Honestly, I had already suspected the priest’s visit had sothing to do with the ritual. Still, the confirmation made sothing in my chest twist.
Part of wanted it over with. But another part, the one I’d been trying to silence, felt the weight of what it ant.
This wasn’t just a "blasted ritual." It was cutting through a bond my wolf had never wanted to sever.
But Maeve, on the other hand.
"How soon can we hold the ritual?" I asked.
"Tomorrow," Revierrie announced, his voice filled with pride, though there was still a shadow of the strain he’d endured over the past days. "At midnight."
Then, his tone shifted, the excitent tempered by sothing more sober.
"Your Highness... I must apologize again for the disaster last ti. The failure was mine to bear. I underestimated how deep the resistance between your wolves truly ran, and I allowed too many distractions into the circle. It will not happen again."
He straightened, a glint of determination in his pale eyes.
"This ti, I’ve refined the process. The maid will bring an extra pair of clothes and will be kept in clear sight from start to finish—no chance of her disappearing. More importantly..." He lowered his voice, as if the walls themselves might eavesdrop. "I’ve secured the Goddess’s moonstone. You know its power—an artifact blessed under the first full light, capable of amplifying the separation incantation. And to appease the Goddess for the severing, I’ve arranged for a sacrificial wolf to be offered in exchange for the bond’s breaking."
My brows knit. "A sacrifice?"
"A willing one," he assured quickly. "Chosen from the outer ranks. His life given in service to the Goddess, to open her ears to our plea. With the moonstone amplifying the call and the sacrifice sealing the offering, the ritual’s chances of success will be far greater than before."
Was this worth it? Sacrificing a life—an actual person—for the sake of a severed bond? Would Maeve even want this if she knew the cost?
I made my decision then.
"No to the sacrifice. If the Goddess is going to hear us, then she’ll have to do so without bloodshed."
Revierrie’s expression faltered, the light in his eyes dimming. "B-but, Your Highness—"
"You’ve done a good job, Revierrie. I’m proud."
He hesitated for a mont, clearly wrestling with the urge to argue, but in the end, he simply nodded and bowed low.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"Till tomorrow, then. In the anti, you should join the rest of the pack for dinner. I’m sure there’s sothing on the nu that’s to your liking."
"You’re too kind, Your Highness," the priest smiled as he sauntered past , disappearing into the dining hall.
Now that his research was over, his appetite seed to have returned.
I watched him go, my mind already turning over the thought of tomorrow’s ritual.
I should’ve been relieved that I didn’t have to drag this out until the next full moon, but the truth was, the thought of doing it tomorrow left a hollow pit in my chest.
Holding the ritual so soon would be like ripping off a bandage in one sharp pull—stinging like hell at first, yes, but this wasn’t just skin we were tearing open.
This was the bond. My wolf’s bond.
And no matter how fast you ripped it away, it would leave a wound that didn’t stop bleeding just because the cut was clean.
Yet, there was barely any more ti to convince Maeve otherwise.
"What?" I scowled, narrowing my eyes at Francis.
He was still leaning against the wall, staring at point-blank.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"You’ve got sothing on your mind, Francis. Spit it out."
"Is this truly what you want?" he asked. "The ritual. From what I’ve seen, both Maeve’s wolf and yours clearly don’t want to reject each other. Why are you two trying to force this?"
"It’s what she wants," I told him simply, my jaw tightening. "I don’t have much of a choice."
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