CHAPTER 4

LYRA

The whispers stop as his sharp gaze sweeps across the room.

Sabrina flinches. “I’m your fiancée. I don’t know why anyone else is here.”

Zachary’s brows furrow, and his face turns cold. “I have no fiancée. Does your grandfather know you’re here? I doubt it.”

Sabrina scowls, “He’ll agree eventually! Your opinion doesn’t matter.”

I’m surprised by her dumb courage. Not only is she defying her grandfather, but the prince as well. That is no way to make a good impression.

The Alpha’s butler steps forward to deal with the situation. “Show respect to the Alpha, young lady.” His voice is firm.

Sabrina bites her lip, and though she is angry, she stays quiet. The prince brushes past her.

As he sits down, his gaze flickers briefly toward that short-haired girl—it is quick, but familiar.

Do they know each other?

Since the king didn’t show up, the butler leads the opening. He steps forward, clearing his throat.

“The selection has officially begun. You will stay here during the process. And each of you will learn the necessary skills to become future Luna. You will be scored at each stage of this assessment, and the candidate with the highest score will be the winner.”

The crowd mutters to each other, some excited, some nervous. I’m not sure what I felt.

The butler continues, “For the first phase, you will be divided into groups of three, and each group must present a plan for a ball.”

I clench my fists. A ball—it makes me angry. We are wasting precious resources while children starve in the orphanage. Doesn’t anybody here understand that or even care?

The candidates form teams quickly. Because of what had just happened, everyone is clearly avoiding eye contact with us. Sabrina is powerful, and no one wanted to get on her bad side by joining us.

My attention is drawn to the short-haired girl standing apart from the group, just like us.

I step forward, Zoe following me.

“I’m Elena,” I introduce myself. “Thank you for defending us earlier.”

She glances at me, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Would you be the third member of our team?” I motion to Zoe and myself.

It is more of an offer, and we both know she doesn’t have much choice. She needs a team just like we needed a third member.

She finally offers a nod. “Sloane.”

“You’re Sloane?” Zoe asks excitedly. “The captain of the Outriders!”

I recognize the name.

The Outriders took on the dirty work of scavenging the wasteland for resources. No one wanted to do such dangerous business, so private groups formed, and they were respected and paid for their work.

What was she doing here? She was practically a celebrity.

Then it gives me an idea—maybe I can join the Outriders when this is over.

I don’t know where I’ll be, and while it isn’t a particularly safe option, it is an option.

“We’ll make a great team,” I say, not exactly confident.

Sabrina’s eyes lock onto the three of us. Her voice carries across the hall.

“A freak team planning a ball? Some people don’t even know how to dance.”

“Enough,” Zachary says suddenly.

Sabrina flinches, then glares at me, as if Zachary’s anger were my fault.

She is the one who keeps running her mouth. You’d think the first reprimand he gave her would have been enough for her to shut up.

Still, she wants to find an outlet for her anger, and I know that it is going to be me.

This is going to be a lot more difficult than I could have ever imagined.

***

The butler dismisses us.

After settling in my room, I hurry to join my team, trying to ignore the feeling in my stomach that every single person in this place knows I’m a liar. Even the paintings on the walls seem to see right through me.

When I get there, Zoe is already bursting with ideas, sketching them out in a notebook. Sloane watches, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I think a gold theme,” Zoe says, looking up at me when I enter, “Gold-plated everything. It’s very classic.”

“I think the ball doesn’t need to be too extravagant,” I say quietly. Gold plating feels ridiculous. “Given the current situation, at least in most places, we shouldn’t waste resources.”

“It has to be extravagant. It’s a ball. We just have to be careful not to make it tacky,” Sloane says, wandering over to examine Zoe’s sketches.

Sabrina was right. None of us knows anything about planning a ball.

I sigh. “What if we add… I don’t know. Games? Do they have games at balls?” I hesitate, suddenly faced with my ignorance on the subject. “We could do something like… a contest to see who can eat cake the fastest?”

The minute I say it, I know how silly it sounds. We used to play it with bread at the orphanage, and it was about the only game I knew. But it is a stupid suggestion, I know that.

“Games? Are you joking?” A cold voice behind me asks.

We all turn sharply. Standing a few feet away, arms folded behind his back, is Prince Zachary.

He looks upset that I’d even bother suggesting something like that.

I’m flushed, embarrassed that he snuck up on us, and wonder how long he’d been standing there. How much of the conversation has he heard?

His piercing eyes settle on me, and out of instinct, I lower my gaze, hoping he’d just move on.

But he doesn’t.

“Your ridiculous suggestions will humiliate the entire pack.”

I blush, thoroughly embarrassed. I didn’t know anything about planning a ball, but what could I say?

The Prince. I remind myself. You can’t argue. You have to keep a low profile.

“If you’re this clueless, you better quit and go home,” he says.

I want to tell him that I’d like to do just that—though I don’t exactly have a home to go to.

But of course he is the Prince, and I am playing a part. So as infuriating as he is, I keep my mouth shut.

“Future Luna needs to be perfect in every way,” he glances up to my scar and I immediately feel uncomfortable. “And you are not perfect.”

I thought I was used to this kind of talk by now, but I realize now that I am not.

Zoe touches my arm, offering silent support. I appreciate that. None of us can talk back to the prince, but it is nice to know she is there for me.

“I hope I don’t see you tomorrow,” Zachary says, and then he walks out without a second glance.

God. I think. Some poor girl has to marry that hot-tempered, arrogant bastard.

“This is going to be a lot harder than I thought,” I shake my head.