Starved and tired, Aire parted her eyes the moment the sun struck her face.
The light was cruel, white and unforgiving as it spilled through the tall windows and burned straight through her closed lids. She groaned softly, rolling onto her side and dragging the pillow over her head, desperate to escape it.
Her body felt wrong.
She felt heavy and hollow. Every limb ached like it had been filled with sand instead of bone.
She exhaled shakily and let herself sink back into the edge of sleep. She stacked her face into the soft fabric of pillow then_
Then pain exploded across her back.
She felt a sharp, searing line of fire snapped against her skin, stealing the breath from her lungs.
Aire cried out. Her body jerked violently as she rolled across the bed, with her fingers clawing uselessly at the sheets.
Another strike landed on her back.
A scream broke out of her throat this time.
She sat upright, heart hammering, eyes wide and unfocused as agony pulsed through her back. Her nightdress clung damply to her skin.
The curtains were wide open now, and morning flooded the room.
Madam stood by the window, with one gloved hand still resting on the heavy fabric, while the other held a slim, flexible whip thin enough to cut, yet light enough to sting forever.
Aire's chest heaved as she stared.
Behind Madam stood three other women and all of them watched her with the same look.
Disgust. Disapproval. Detachment.
They stared at her like she was something that had crawled out of the dirt and dared to exist indoors.
Pain throbbed fiercely across Aire's back. She reached back instinctively, wondering if Madam had really woken her up with a whip.
Aire lips parted in pain when she touched blood.
Madam clicked her tongue softly.
"Not even a slight healing ability?" she said, when her eyes flickered to the blood seeping through the fabric. "How inconvenient."
Aire's throat closed. The pain burned, but she refused to scream again. She simply watched.
Madam turned slightly and pointed with the whip. "You. You. She reeks, so now."
Two of the women stepped forward immediately. They didn't ask Aire's permission.
They grabbed her arms and hauled her forward, forcing her to sit still while they peeled the torn fabric away from her back. Aire bit down hard on her lip as cool air kissed her raw bloodied skin.
The sting intensified.
One of them dabbed at the wound roughly with a cloth. Aire flinched despite herself.
"Clean it," Madam ordered flatly. "Then prepare her."
One of the women snorted. "Council elders are waiting, and she decided to sleep."
The words hit Aire harder than the whip.
The council were already waiting?
Her breath hitched.
Nate's voice echoed in her mind, clear and cruel. His words from yesterday replayed in her mind. 'You'll die tomorrow, anyways.'
Her stomach twisted violently.
.....
The grand Alpha Hall breathed power.
Stone pillars rose toward the ceiling like the ribs of some ancient beast, carved with symbols older than most packs.
The pack healers entered first.
They walked in pairs. Their robes brushed stones, with their faces carefully neutral. Behind each healer followed an apprentice young, tense, with their eyes flicking everywhere as they took in the scale of the hall.
Whispers followed them like ghosts. Everyone said something.
The council elders arrived next, all twelve of them.
They took their seats along the high, circular stone table that dominated the center of the hall. Each elder wore the mark of their authority differently with either rings, cloaks, or scars but every single one of them radiated age and judgment.
The room settled, then the air shifted.
Xanden walked in first.
His presence pressed down on the hall like an invisible hand. Conversations died instantly when he walked in. Everyone shoulders straightened, and their wolves stirred uneasily beneath skins.
Alaric followed close behind, calm and unreadable, as his gaze scanned the room with quiet calculation.
Nate came in last.
He looked bored.
A lollipop stick was jutted from the corner of his mouth as he glanced around. His eyes were sharp despite the lazy tilt of his posture.
Their father stood already near the council table.
Alpha Elijah's jaw was set hard when he saw them. His expression darkened as his gaze flicked over his sons. Disapproval and disappointment burned openly in his eyes.
Several healers glanced at the triplets too quickly, before snapping their attention back to the floor.
No one wanted to be caught looking at them for too long.
More footsteps echoed.
Alphas from other packs entered in measured strides, each announcing themselves without words.
The House of Ashmere arrived first. They were the only silver-eyed house, and their presence was cold and severe. They were known for the creation of weapons for packs of wolves in time of battle.
Then House Rowanfall walked in. They were cloaked in deep green robe, smelling faintly of pine and old rain. They were known for their extreme wealth.
House Blackfen followed next, dark-haired and sharp-featured, their wolves were known for brutality in battle.
They were the only royal bloodlines right after Alpha Elijah.
They were ancient names. Each of the three house had just one daughter in hope that they'd be the future mates of the Alphas.
To each of these houses, Alpha Elijah remained indebted.
They took their seats without greeting one another. They watched the center of the hall with thinly veiled anticipation.
This wasn't just a test.
It was a spectacle.
"The cursed one will be brought in," an elder announced.
The doors opened, and Aire stepped inside.
She walked between two guards, her steps were unsteady but unbroken. A white dress clung to her frame, too light for the weight pressing down on her chest. Her back burned beneath the fabric.
The hall went silent. Every eyes around locked onto her.
No one was curious. They were all assessing and power hungry.
She lifted her chin, and her silver hair caught the torchlight, gleaming like a blade.
Xanden felt it.
The instant she crossed the threshold, his wolf surged violently, slamming against his chest like it wanted out. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
Alaric's gaze darkened, tracking every step she took.
Nate stopped sucking on the lollipop.
Aire stopped at the center of the hall alone.
One of the elders leaned forward slightly. His ancient eyes narrowed. "Begin the mate verification."
The healers moved.
Symbols were drawn on the stone floor in pale chalk. A bowl was placed at the center, filled with shimmering liquid that pulsed faintly with magic.
Aire swallowed. Her heart thundered.
She felt small, but she didn't kneel. She didn't even bow.
"Any last words?"