Chapter 4

Ivy's POV

She actually wants to give up?

No way.

"A shower?" My voice shoots up. "Bella, are you out of your mind?"

Bella flinches at the sudden sharpness in my voice, and pulls the leg she'd just swung off the bed right back onto the mattress.

She stares at me blankly, tears still pooling in her eyes. "But... but it really hurts..."

"Hurts? This is nothing." I grab her shoulders and hold them tight, staring straight into her eyes. "Bella, look at me. Have you forgotten how you got through the last thirty days? Forgotten the way the neighbors looked at you, eaten up with envy? Forgotten what Lord Lucas promised you?"

"If you take a shower right now, even just one drop of water, you'll ruin the purity of the Moonlight Bloom. Do you know how far above us Lord Lucas is? His nose is sharper than the most advanced magical instruments out there. The second he catches even a hint of ordinary water on that thing, what do you think he'll assume? He'll think you broke your word. He'll think you don't deserve what he's given you."

That leaves her completely dazed.

I take a deep breath. "Bella, if you shower right now, you're not washing off dirt. You're washing away the rest of your life, the wealth, the status, everything. This is your only shot at becoming a viscountess. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in this rundown neighborhood, breathing in sewer stink, married off to some average werewolf, raising a house full of pups, and fading into nothing?"

"No! I don't want that!" Bella screams, pure terror flashing across her face.

For someone as vain as her, losing Lucas is a thousand times worse than any physical pain.

"Then push through it." I say it flat, no room for argument. "No crown comes without a price. This isn't pain, this is fate testing you. Think about Lord Lucas's mansion. Think about diamond necklaces sparkling in the light. Think about all the people who used to look down on you, kneeling at your feet, kissing the hem of your dress. Bella, you're strong. You can get through this. Can't you?"

The doubt in Bella's eyes fades away. She bites down on her lower lip until it bleeds, then nods, hard.

"You're right, Ivy. I can't shower. I'm going to be a viscountess. I'm going to make everyone jealous of me. A little pain is nothing. It's just a stepping stone to the top."

"That's the spirit, sweetie." I stroke her hair gently, a cold smile curling at the corner of my mouth.

And so, with my encouragement and watchful eye, Bella grits her way through the remaining ten days.

Over those ten days, the mushrooms on her back grow into a small forest of poison. The foul mucus has spread across her entire body, her clothes stuck to her skin, and every time she moves even slightly, chunks of flesh tear away with the fabric.

She's whittled down to skin and bone, her eyes bulging out of her skull, giving off the gray, hollow look of someone on the edge of death.

But her spirit is more wired than ever.

Finally, day forty arrives.

The day Lord Lucas promised to come for her.

First thing in the morning, Bella pushes through her weakness and has me help her into what she considers her most stunning red dress. Of course, to show off her "masterpiece," she cuts a huge hole in the back of the dress, leaving that dripping, multicolored mass of mushrooms completely exposed to the open air.

Every last resident in town has to put on a gas mask just to stand at a distance and gawk at the whole unprecedented mess.

Close to noon, a low engine rumble breaks the dead silence of the town.

A black stretch limousine, flanked by a handful of bodyguards, rolls to a stop in front of our run-down house. The car's finish gleams under the sun, radiating the kind of wealth and status that belongs to only one man.

The door swings open, and Lord Lucas makes his entrance.

He's dressed in a perfectly tailored silk suit, his long blond hair combed back without a single strand out of place.

"Lord Lucas!" Bella screams with excitement and drags her reeking body toward him.