Chapter 13: Chapter Thirteen

The ceiling was easily thirty feet, vaulted, with gold paint mimicking support beams as they trailed along the walls of the vaulting, as well as the crown molding, meeting at the center of the ceiling where a beautifully ornate chandelier dropped low, an immeasurable number of crystals casting a soft light. The walls were a muted garnet, nearly the shade of the Red Sea.

There were no windows, unsurprising given they were near the heart of the castle.

Her shoes clicked across dark marble.

A black-draped long table, seating the candidates, faced a dais that featured a shorter table, enough to seat seven, the center obviously for the king and queen. The setup looked less banquet, more panel-like. Laura took a seat in the most available chair, almost directly in the middle, and right next to the white-haired female.

More announcements followed, before a total of fourteen women, ranging in early to late twenties, sat neatly in a row.

Time ticked as the room grew cooler, evening turning to night. A few impatient murmurs started up.

“Announcing–full court!” The talking died down as everyone stood, Laura standing to match the crowd.

A group of elders–admittedly less decrepit looking than she’d assumed–entered, wearing traditional robes of the court, taking seats at the table above them.

“Announcing–His Majesty, Reagan Gerrod Woulf and Her Majesty, Lana Francesca Woulf!”

Curtsey took form around her, Laura doing her best to mimic the posture as the king and queen entered.

As a couple, they were striking. Queen Lana, with her tan skin and dark hair, was much the contrast to the fair-featured king. They were dressed as traditionally as their courtiers: rich layers of gold and black shrouding their frames, with modest circlets resting on their heads. They took seated positions at the center of the head table.

“Please take your seats,” the king’s rich baritone commanded.

“Good evening–and welcome, ladies. I trust your travels here weren't all bad,” Queen Lana began. “It’s our hope you feel comfortable here in our home as you would your own for the duration of the trials.”

A chorus of ‘*thank you*’ swept across the candidates as a blond-haired male stood. It didn’t go unnoticed by Laura that their entire cabinet consisted of Alphas–Alphas she recognized as prominent figures in government and major industries.

“Please rise in succession.”

Laura smoothed her face, hoping no one caught her confusion at the command.

“Reyna Fredrick,” a young woman—petite for a shifter–far to Laura’s left bowed, “of Pack Denore. Greetings to the court, King and Queen.” The girl went on to impart a practiced two-page monologue.

“Cali Silver, of Pack Silver. Greetings to the court, King and Queen.” Again, a practiced two-page monologue, mirroring the previous candidate.

Three more recited the same, each of these claiming the surname of an official pack. The smell of Alpha certainly enveloped the room–more so than just from the royals and court officials—confirmation as the candidates introduced themselves.

Two more took their turn, lowering the number before Laura’s.

*Well, shit*.

It seemed her lack of traditional etiquette was about to be put on brilliant display.

She couldn’t wait.

Her lips quirked at the tips. Being booted from the get-go was sound.

The line continued its pace until finally, the white-haired beauty was next.

The room seemed quieter, at attention.

“Evelyn Roseford, of Pack—”

“Announcing, Prince Rowan Alexander Woulf!”

Laura’s brows cocked at the interruption, her eyes sliding to Evelyn. To her surprise, the girl didn’t seem the least bit annoyed at the redirection.

There were audible sighs, prompting Laura to face like the others and see this new arrival.

The first thing she noticed was the way he carried himself, the surety of his steps against the marbled floors. He was dressed in a business shirt, with slacks to complement–completely lacking any traditional garment. His dark hair settled around his shoulders as he came to a stop beside his mother.

She whispered something to him as he leaned in to brush his lips against her forehead, the queen fondly patting his arm. He moved to his father’s side, taking a seat directly behind Laura, before the king nodded, motioning for the girl beside Laura to continue. The prince’s eyes lifted–the refined shade of amber–shifting across the sea of women below.

He was tall, his focus unwavering. His face was as cut as the marble covering most of the castle’s floor, reminiscent of the Mediterranean men she’d met on her travels.

His lips held a slight upturn, but his eyes glazed over her just as they did with everyone else.

Disinterest was his countenance... It was almost hostile.

Then she smelled him.

***

First, it itched.

Then, it *burned*.

Her toes curled as she fought to conceal the pain. Her skin *seared*, right on the back of her neck.

She hoped no one noticed the look of surprise that slid across her face. Dread quickly became the prominent emotion.

Laura glanced at Prince Rowan, his face was lightly scrunched, nose flaring.

Male shifters were born with their mate mark. Females acquired them later, after coming in contact with their fated mate.

She put extra effort into masking her smell, glamouring the new mark.

*Fuck*.

She didn’t want the one she had–let alone two. Her claws extended into the fabric of the chair.

And then she had to stand.

***

He couldn’t be mistaken.

He narrowed on the women seated below him, flaring his nose.

The back of his neck, silent now, had scorched like the pain of a new mark.

For the briefest moment, he’d smelled her. A small flicker, but enough to confirm his mate was near. His heart skipped a beat.

He eyed the candidates.

The white wolf was speaking her greetings now, with everyone present giving respect to her position as the goddess’ representative demanded. It certainly wasn’t her.

The next female stood, preparing to bore them with more tradition, when, further down the line, a petite female fell aggressively forward.

“Are you alright, dear?” His father looked concerned.

“What is the purpose of your interruption?” His mother was less impressed.

“My King, Queen, I-I’ve just been marked.”

Silence covered the room.

A cursory glance showed a mix of malice and surprise, from the remaining candidates.

Rowan looked at the small female on her knees before them.

He inhaled deeply, pulling the scent from around her.

*How foolish*.

A sick smile touched his face.

His mother turned to him as he re-schooled his features.