Chapter 4 – The Alpha King’s Arrival

The following morning broke with an uneasy stillness.

Aria woke to the sound of hurried footsteps outside the infirmary. At first, she thought it was another early rush of injured warriors or pups who had taken a tumble during training. But as the noise grew, so did the tension in the air. Voices—hushed, urgent, reverent—slipped through the canvas walls.

“The Alpha King…” someone whispered.

“He’s here.”

“Gods above, what does he want with us?”

Aria froze, her fingers tightening on the basin she had been scrubbing. For a moment, she thought she had misheard. The Alpha King? Here?

That was impossible.

The Alpha King never came in person. He summoned packs to his court, commanded from afar, ruled with a power that stretched across kingdoms. If he was here… it meant something monumental was stirring.

She wiped her damp hands on her apron and stepped outside.

The village square was alive with frenzy. Wolves darted to and fro, scrubbing the steps of the meeting hall, setting out banners, barking orders at trembling Omegas to sweep faster, polish harder. Warriors straightened their stances, their armor gleaming, their weapons newly oiled. The air itself seemed to thrum with anticipation, as though the earth knew greatness was about to set foot upon it.

Aria stood among them, unnoticed, her heart thundering.

And then she felt it.

The shift in the air. The ripple of power.

The world seemed to still as a line of black-armored guards emerged at the edge of the clearing, their movements synchronized, their presence suffocating. They were larger than most wolves she had ever seen, radiating strength and discipline. The crest of the crown and wolf emblazoned on their chests gleamed under the morning light.

Behind them, he came.

Alpha King Kaelen.

He was taller than the guards who flanked him, his stride purposeful, his posture commanding. His cloak of midnight fur swept the ground, embroidered with silver that caught the light like stars against darkness. His eyes—icy steel, sharp and unyielding—scanned the clearing, and wherever they landed, wolves dropped their gazes to the dirt.

The sheer force of his aura crashed over the pack like a tidal wave. Aria’s breath caught in her throat, her knees nearly buckling. He carried authority the way others carried their skin—natural, inescapable, undeniable.

The Alpha of her pack, Damian, hurried forward, his head bowed deeply. “My King. It is an honor.”

Kaelen stopped, his gaze sliding over Damian with cool disinterest. He said nothing at first, simply studying him until Damian’s shoulders twitched under the weight of silence.

Finally, his voice cut through the stillness. Deep. Resonant. Dangerous.

“I am here to discuss an alliance,” Kaelen said. “Your borders rest against territories I cannot leave unguarded. Cooperation will be necessary.”

His words were simple, but the air seemed to crackle around them. An alliance. The pack would be elevated, protected—if they pleased him. And if they didn’t…

No one dared to imagine the alternative.

Damian bowed lower. “Of course, my King. Anything you require is yours.”

Kaelen’s eyes flicked to the gathered crowd, sharp as blades. Aria felt them sweep over her like cold fire, though she knew he hadn’t paused long enough to truly see her. Still, her pulse raced, her skin prickling as though his gaze had marked her.

She ducked her head, hoping to vanish into the sea of bodies.

The day stretched on in chaos.

Kaelen and his guards were escorted to the grand hall where the council would feast and negotiate. The entire pack scrambled to present their best selves. Hunters brought in fresh kills, artisans rushed to lay out their finest crafts, and Omegas—Aria among them—were ordered to work tirelessly to prepare food, set tables, clean, and serve.

Aria obeyed, though her hands longed for the simplicity of the infirmary. She balanced trays of fruit and wine, her movements careful, graceful. But even as she served, her healer’s instincts kicked in. She noticed the tightness in a guard’s stride, the way another massaged his wrist when he thought no one was watching. Injuries—hidden, ignored, endured.

It gnawed at her.

When she returned to the kitchens for more bread, she hesitated, then quietly grabbed a pouch of salve she had made from comfrey and arnica.

She told herself she was foolish. These weren’t her patients. These weren’t even her packmates. But the thought of warriors—no, men—carrying pain when she could ease it unsettled her.

On her next pass through the hall, she paused subtly beside the guard with the bad wrist.

“Rub this in when no one’s watching,” she murmured, slipping the pouch onto the edge of his tray. “It’ll help.”

His brows lifted in surprise, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Aria feared he would sneer, scoff, dismiss her as others did. But instead, he gave the faintest nod, almost imperceptible.

Her heart leapt.

A small thing, perhaps. But still—acknowledgment.

The negotiations dragged long into the night. Aria remained on her feet, pouring wine, refilling platters, her back aching, her head heavy. The hall glittered with torchlight, laughter, and the clinking of goblets, but beneath it all lay a current of unease.

Kaelen was not a man who laughed easily. He spoke little, but when he did, the room bent around his words. Even Damian, usually arrogant and smug, seemed to shrink before him.

Aria kept her eyes lowered, her movements efficient. But every time Kaelen shifted, every time his gaze swept the room, she felt it like a physical touch, her breath hitching against her will.

What was wrong with her?

She had spent years burying her emotions, locking her heart away after Damian’s rejection. She had sworn never to let another man’s presence shake her.

And yet, this King—this stranger—unsettled her to her core.

Near midnight, the feasting slowed. Wolves staggered out, drunk or weary. The guards remained vigilant, Kaelen still seated at the head of the table, his goblet untouched, his posture unyielding.

Aria gathered empty platters, her arms laden. As she turned toward the kitchen doors, her foot caught on a loose stone. She stumbled forward, the tray tipping.

Wine splashed across the floor, goblets clattered, a roast nearly tumbled to the ground. Gasps rippled through the hall.

Aria froze, mortified, her cheeks burning.

Damian’s voice snapped like a whip. “Useless Omega!”

Her heart lurched as every eye in the room pinned her. She bowed her head quickly. “Forgive me, Alpha, I—”

“Perhaps,” another councilman sneered, “we should lock her back in the infirmary where she belongs. Better to hide such clumsiness from the King’s sight.”

Laughter followed, cruel and sharp.

Aria bit the inside of her cheek, her hands trembling as she bent to gather the fallen goblets. Humiliation burned through her, hot and suffocating.

And then—

“Enough.”

The single word silenced the hall.

Aria’s breath caught. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

Kaelen’s eyes were on her. Cold. Sharp. Piercing.

But beneath them, something else flickered.

Not disdain. Not mockery.

Something unreadable.

The council members shifted uncomfortably under his stare. Damian cleared his throat. “My King, forgive her incompetence. She is—”

“She is Omega,” Kaelen finished, his tone unreadable. He leaned back in his chair, studying Aria as though she were a puzzle no one else saw. “And yet she works.”

The room held its breath.

Kaelen flicked his gaze to the spilled wine, then back to her. “Clean it.”

Aria scrambled to obey, relief flooding her chest that he hadn’t demanded punishment. She wiped the floor quickly, efficiently, before retreating to the shadows.

But the weight of his gaze lingered long after.

That night, long after the hall emptied, Aria lay awake on her narrow cot in the infirmary. Sleep eluded her, chased away by the image of Kaelen’s eyes.

Why had he looked at her that way?

Why had his presence rattled her so deeply?

She pressed her hands to her face, willing the thoughts away. He was the Alpha King—untouchable, unreachable, beyond her world. Whatever ripple had passed between them was nothing but imagination.

And yet… she couldn’t forget it.

The way the hall had fallen silent at his word.

The way her humiliation had been cut short by his command.

The way his gaze had lingered—like he saw something no one else did.

Her chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat.

She was a rejected Omega.

He was the Alpha King.

Their worlds could never meet.

And yet, for the first time in years, the chains of her rejection trembled—just slightly, just faintly—like fate had begun to stir.