Chapter 113: _ I Will Protect What’s Mine

Ivar’s jaw was set tight. Jealousy was still burning brightly in his eyes at the mention of Ajax, but he forced himself to exhale sharply. "Look... I haven’t exactly been Raice’s biggest fan lately. But the lad actually helped me out with a personal favor a few days ago. So fine. I’ll let you go save his royal ass. But you will explain the Ajax thing to me later."

"I promise! I swear!" I gasped, hopping on one foot as I tried to figure out what to wear. "Just show me where the washroom is!"

Ivar smirked, his brooding jealousy evaporating into amused indulgence. "Follow me, petal."

He led me into an adjoining chamber that looked more like an imperial bathhouse than a bathroom. Carved marble basins, steaming pool tubs, and golden mirrors lined the walls. But when I turned around to push him out the door, Ivar comfortably leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

"Out," I demanded, pointing a finger at the hallway.

"Not a chance," he chuckled. "I’m watching."

"Ivar!"

"We’re marked mates, Elira. There is not a single inch of your body I haven’t already seen, touched, or tasted. Wash up. I’m going nowhere."

I glared at him, but my heart gave a treacherous, fluttering thrum. As I washed the fatigue and lingering ache from my skin in the warm basin, I couldn’t stop the blush from burning my cheeks.

Yet, as Ivar stepped up behind me, gently wrapping a linen towel around my shoulders, the lingering embarrassment began to melt away.

He didn’t make a crude joke. Instead, he pressed soft kisses against my shoulder blades, his hands astonishingly gentle as he dried my skin.

"You are stunning, Elira," he murmured against my ear. "Every single piece of you."

An unfamiliar warmth bloomed in my chest. Last Bastion was the one place where I’d been greatly reminded of how unworthy I was, and yet, it was also the same place I found people who didn’t just see me as an ordinary dirty Stonewick trench rat or an inconvenient commoner. I was being looked at like something precious.

The fresh wolf mark on the side of my neck throbbed, sending waves of contentment straight into my bloodstream. I was falling for him faster than I thought, deeper than I could handle... and without a safety net.

"Now," Ivar declared, turning me around toward the racks of clothes his maids had brought in earlier. "Time to dress you like the royalty you are."

"I am not royalty, Ivar, I need a simple tunic so I can run..."

"Nonsense," he cut in, pulling a gorgeous gown from the middle rack.

It was a midnight-crimson dress crafted from fine silk, tailored with high-fitted sleeves, a structured corset bodice, and silver embroidery that mimicked wolf tracks along the hemline.

Before I could protest, Ivar was expertly helping me into it, his fingers surprisingly nimble with the corset laces.

"How many times have you done this before, huh?" I couldn’t keep myself from asking. Not when jealousy was poking at my chest.

Ivar caught it and smiled. "My dearest Petal, I don’t put clothes on. I remove them."

"IVAR!"

He laughed and pulled the ties snug, stepping back to admire his work.

The dress fit like a second skin. It was far too elegant, far too expensive, and made me look like an imperial noble stepping out of a royal court portrait. The rich red fabric made the fresh, dark mark on my neck stand out with startling clarity.

"I can’t wear this to the Dragon Wing!" I gasped, looking at myself in the full-length mirror. "I look like... like a princess!"

"You look like my mate," Ivar corrected, stepping up behind me in the mirror and resting his hands on my hips."You need to start representing me well, petal. You’re no longer a peasant hiding in the mud. You are bound to a Crown Prince. And if I take the Alpha seat one day... you’ll be my Queen. My Luna."

I stared at my reflection, the words echoing in my head. Luna.

I had lived in lack for eighteen years. I had eaten scrap porridge, slept on damp stone, and patched dirty rags together just to stay warm. Yet, as I looked at the powerful woman staring back at me in the mirror, I didn’t feel fear. I felt a sudden urge to embrace it.

Like all my life, I was being groomed for the peak of nobility. I couldn’t explain it, but it felt too comfortable. Strangely comfortable.

I wondered what my mother’s face would look like if she could see me now. She had dedicated her life to being a Hosuewoman, slept with every adult male in my Lord Griffith’s household year in and out to send me to Last Bastion because she refused to let me become another broken housewoman in the trenches. She wanted a future for me beyond the mud.

Well, Mother... I think I found one.

"The maids packed three trunks of the remaining dresses," Ivar said, interrupting my thoughts as he handed me a heavy, fur-lined cloak to drape over my shoulders. "They’re already being delivered to your dorm room in the Dragon Wing."

"You really didn’t have to do all this," I whispered, though my heart swelled with gratitude.

"I did," Ivar said. He grabbed his own red leather jacket, fastening his royal crest over his chest. "And I’m walking you back to the Dragon Academy."

I paused, looking at him in surprise. "You don’t need to escort me, Ivar. I can walk."

"Elira, think for two seconds," Ivar said, his mismatched eyes filling with protective steel. "That scrying broadcast went out to the entire school. Half the noble girls in this academy—girls whose hearts I’ve broken or whose advances I’ve turned down—are going to be out for your blood. They’re going to look at you like a rival."

He stepped closer, cupping my face in his broad hands, his thumb gently brushing over the high curve of my cheekbone.

"Not to mention the judgments. They will try to make you feel dirty. They will try to call you names and mock what happened in that cloister like they aren’t doing worse behind closed doors. But I will not let them ruin you. You are mine now, Elira. And I protect what is mine."

I gulped. Oh, Ivar...

Before I could answer, a sudden knocking rattled the doors from the outer corridor.