Page 23

A ll day Ivy and I work around the castle.

Clarice is in an excitable mood, and the place seems to buzz with energy.

Clarice even let me choose my own chores halfway through the day, as long as I kept Ivy away from the kitchen area.

I thought the request a little odd, but agreed, so we spent it outside raking while throwing the leaves at each other.

It was the most fun, and even Peter and the gardener joined in for a little bit before Damian scolded them and told them to both get back to work.

Both Ivy’s guard and Damian followed Ivy like they were her shadow, but even Dustin and Beta Damian joined when we had our leaf fight after Peter left.

It was great spending the day with Ivy. The day was very relaxed, but like everything, it eventually came to an end when Beta Damian called out to Ivy.

“My Queen, it is time to go in. I think a storm is coming, and it is best you come inside before it rains,” he states, turning his attention to her.

“Just a while longer, please?” Ivy begs him, but he shakes his head.

Looking to the sky, I notice the clouds rolling in, and it did indeed looks like a storm is approaching.

Even the wind has picked up, blowing the leaves around the garden area.

Thunder sounds in the distance and a few streaks of lightning.

“I’m sorry, My Queen, but I must insist. The king wants you in bed by 8 PM,” Beta Damian tells hers. Ivy looks a little disappointed but knows she can’t go against the king.

“Fine, but stop calling me your queen,” Ivy says. Damian snorts and clicks his tongue.

“As you wish,” he says, giving her a nod.

Ivy and I say goodbye, and I no longer know what to do with myself. I join the other servants for dinner. After dinner, though, Clarice is still buzzing with excitement, and I watch as she hums excitedly.

When the servants leave to go about their duties, I go to see if there is anything I can help with, and she shakes her head.

“No, Abbie. Maybe go see if the cleaner needs help,” she offers, and I wander off, yet they all tell me no. It is too early for bed, and I can’t see Ivy, so I wander back to Clarice, who quickly puts a sheet over whatever it is she is working on.

“Clarice?” I ask as she makes herself busy. Whatever she is working on is pretty big. Clarice sighs.

“I do need a little help actually, but you must promise not to tell Ivy. It is a surprise,” Clarice says and I beam; a surprise for Ivy? I bounce on my heels.

“The king asked me to make a cake for her birthday tomorrow,”

“Wait, her birthday isn’t for a few more weeks.”

Clarice shakes her head. “No, she is showing signs of shifting earlier than anticipated. The king noticed. We believe her birthday is tomorrow, or maybe the next day, but the king wants to throw a party for her tomorrow when he returns.”

My eyes light up. Ivy and I have never had a party before, and I’m excited to help. Ivy, I know she will love it.

“Promise not to tell Ivy. I don’t want her surprise ruined,” Clarice asks.

“I promise; I can’t wait to see her face,” I tell her, and Clarice smiles.

“Neither can I. I have been working on this cake all day, and I am making petals for edible flowers, so you can help if you want, we have to work on the decorations next.” I nod eagerly, watching as she finishes up with this part of the cake.

I would do anything to help bring a smile to Ivy’s face.

Once done, I follow Clarice to the store room.

“Abbie, grab those ribbons and come with me,” Clarice calls, her arms laden with a bundle of fabric. I quickly do as she asks, following her out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the ballroom.

When we step inside, I gasp. The room has been transformed into something straight out of a fairy tale.

The chandeliers sparkle, their crystals catching the afternoon sunlight and casting tiny rainbows across the room.

Long, flowing drapes in deep blue and silver—the king’s colors—are hung along the walls, and the tables are covered in pristine white cloths adorned with ornate candelabras and glittering silverware.

“All this for her birthday?” I ask, unable to keep the awe out of my voice.

Clarice smiles knowingly. “Yes, for Ivy’s birthday tomorrow. The king wanted something special, and I intend to deliver.”

My heart swells at the thought. Ivy deserves this—every bit of it. After everything she’s been through, she deserves to feel cherished and celebrated.

“Now,” Clarice continues, handing me a stack of silver ribbons, “start tying these around the chair backs. I’ll check on the cake.”

At the mention of the cake, my excitement doubles.

Birthdays were never celebrated at the orphanage—not for us, anyway.

Mrs. Daley made sure of that. The children might have gotten a small cake if they were lucky, but Ivy and I were usually stuck in the kitchen making it, only to watch it disappear without getting so much as a crumb.

As I tie the ribbons, I can’t help but imagine what kind of cake Clarice has in mind. Knowing her, it will be exquisite. She never does anything halfway.

Once I finish with the ribbons, I hurry back to the kitchen to find Clarice standing over a work of art.

The cake is enormous, at least three tiers high, each layer covered in smooth fondant the color of a winter morning—soft blues and whites with delicate silver accents.

Intricate sugar flowers cascade down the sides, their petals so realistic I almost expect them to flutter in the breeze.

Tiny edible pearls are scattered across the cake like drops of dew, and at the very top is a delicate crown sculpted entirely from chocolate, dusted with edible silver to make it gleam.

My breath catches as I take it all in. “Clarice,” I whisper, “it’s beautiful.”

She beams, clearly pleased with my reaction. “It’s for Ivy. She deserves to feel like a queen on her special day.”

I nod, blinking back tears. “She’s never had a birthday cake before. Mrs. Daley never let us celebrate.”

Clarice’s face softens, and she reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. “Well, tomorrow she’ll have this one. And I want you to make sure you have a slice, too. A big one.”

I grin, my excitement bubbling over. “I’ll have two slices,” I say, and Clarice laughs.

The rest of the day is spent putting the final touches on the ballroom.

Clarice has me help arrange the flowers—elegant arrangements of white lilies, blue hydrangeas, and silver-tipped roses—and set out trays to place the delicate pastries and finger foods on.

The scent of freshly baked bread and sugary sweets fills the air, and I can’t stop myself from sneaking a few stolen bites when Clarice isn’t looking.

By the time the preparations are done, the ballroom looks like a dream.

Candles flicker softly on the tables, their light reflected in the polished silverware and crystal glasses.

The cake sits on its own table in the center of the room, its crown glinting in the light.

It’s perfect, and I can’t wait to see Ivy’s reaction.

As I step back to admire our work, Clarice places a hand on her hip, surveying the room with a satisfied smile. “That’ll do,” she says. “Now, all we need is the guest of honor and I got a few cupcakes to finish for the bottom of the cake.”

“Ivy’s going to love this,” I say, unable to contain my excitement.

Clarice chuckles. “She’d better. Otherwise, I’ll have a bone to pick with her.”

We share a laugh, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a sense of hope. Tomorrow will be Ivy’s day, and I’ll make sure she knows just how loved and celebrated she is. If anyone deserves a moment of happiness, it’s her. And I’ll be there to make sure it happens.

So we set to work making the last of the cupcakes late into the night.

Clarice even lets me scrape the icing with a spoon and eat while she puts on the last finishing touches. I can’t wait to see the look on Ivy’s face when she sees it. We have made matching cupcakes that sit along the different tiers.

When we are finally finished with the cake, I help decorate the ballroom, and by the time I climb into bed, I’m exhausted but excited for what tomorrow will bring.

I’m also excited to see Gannon. Buzzing with excitement, I find it impossible to sleep, so I pull the sketch pad and pencils.

I’m so absorbed in my drawing I don’t realized it is 1 AM when Dustin knocks on my door.

He pushes the door open just as I close the sketch pad.

I was drawing a picture of Gannon’s Lycan side.

“Beta Damian requests your presence in the king’s quarters,” he tells me, and I jump to my feet.

“Is Ivy okay?” I ask in a panic. However, Dustin says nothing, just holds the door open and nods for me to follow him.

I don’t even bother to put my shoes on, instead racing after him to the king’s quarters.

Suddenly I hear Ivy crying out from behind the door.

I burst through the door and stop dead in my tracks when I find her writhing on the bed holding her tummy.

Damian hovers nearby, speaking softly to her and trying to calm her down.

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask, rushing to her side, but I don’t think she realizes I’m here as I caress her hair away from her face.

“She is fretting for the king,” Damian tells me.

“Fretting?” I ask, staring between Dustin and Beta Damian, who both nod.

I have no idea what they were talking about, yet it is apparent Ivy is in pain.

I try to soothe her and for a while, she calms as I spoon her.

Eventually her breathing evens out and we fall asleep after she cries herself to sleep.

It isn’t until the early hours of the morning when I feel hands scoop me up. I woke to find Liam picking me up.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, and I glance around and yawn. “Is Gannon back yet?” I ask him and he purrs before staring down at me. “Go back to sleep,” he orders and my eyes snap shut, and I am sucked under only to awaken in Gannon’s bed around lunch time.