Chapter 3: The Alpha King

CLAIRAELLE'S POV

I found the registration desk and joined the shortest line.

A girl in front of me glanced over her shoulder.

Her hair was a deep shade of red, and a delicate silver chain rested against her throat. She wore a fitted black outfit that looked expensive without being flashy.

Her gaze dropped to the papers in my hand.

“First time?” she asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“You're looking at everyone as though you're deciding which one is most likely to eat you first.”

I glanced around before lowering my voice. “Should I not be?”

She laughed. “No. It's a reasonable concern.”

That surprised a laugh out of me.

At least one person here had a sense of humor.

“I'm Imogen Crane,” she said.

“Clairaelle.”

Her expression changed slightly.

“Clairaelle what?”

“Fitzpatrick.”

She looked at my papers again, then at my face.

“Oh. You're the human.”

I sighed. “I was hoping that wouldn't be the first thing people knew about me.”

“I'm afraid you've already made the news.” She nodded toward the crystal display. “Your registration has been announced.”

My stomach sank.

“Wonderful. I've been here less than ten minutes, and I'm already famous for being the easiest person to eliminate.”

“Not necessarily.” Seraphina tilted her head. “Sometimes people underestimate the contestants they don't understand.”

“Is that your way of telling me I might have a chance here?”

“It's my way of telling you that I don't know you well enough to decide whether you're foolish or brave.”

“Can I choose neither?”

“Of course. You can be both.”

I liked her.

That was probably a mistake. I hadn't even entered the competition yet, and I was already making friends with people who might become my rivals later.

Before I could reply, the line moved forward.

Imogen stepped away from me.

“Good luck, Clairaelle Fitzpatrick.”

“You too.”

She gave me a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.

When it was my turn, the registration official checked my documents with a frown.

“Clairaelle Rue Fitzpatrick?”

“Yes.”

“Human faction?”

“Yes.”

He looked at me over his spectacles.

“You understand that the Selection is a competitive event, not a charitable program?”

I stared at him. “I'm sorry?”

“We've had several contestants enter without understanding the physical demands of the Games. I need to confirm that you know what you're agreeing to.”

“I read the declaration.”

“Reading it and understanding it are two different things.”

“I understand that I could get hurt. I understand that I could lose. And I understand that if I don't enter, I won't have a chance at the prize money.”

He paused.

Then, to my surprise, he nodded. “Very well.”

He stamped my papers and handed me a silver token engraved with my name.

“Keep this with you. It confirms your registration and grants you access to the grounds. The opening ceremony will take place after all contestants have been processed.”

I took the token. “Thank you.”

He was already calling for the next person.

I stepped away from the desk and let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

One step closer.

I had officially registered. There was no going back now.

I slipped the token into my pocket and decided to find somewhere quieter before I had to deal with anything else.

I found a side exit leading to a garden behind the registration hall.

The moment I stepped outside, the noise faded. A narrow path curved between neatly trimmed hedges, leading toward a stone archway covered in climbing flowers. Beyond it, I could see a row of benches overlooking a small lake.

Finally. Somewhere I could breathe without worrying that someone might suddenly challenge me to a fight or threaten to eat me.

I walked toward the lake and sat on a bench.

My hands were still trembling.

I took out my late mother's neckless that she had left for me before she died and pressed the pendant together to grant me some kind of courage as I stared at the registration silver token resting in my palm.

You've done the hard part, I told myself.

It wasn't true, of course. I'd done the easy part. The hard part would begin when the Games started and I had to prove I deserved to be there.

A gust of wind swept across the lake, carrying a strange scent with it. Something like pine trees after rain, mixed with smoke and a hint of cold metal.

I lifted my head.

A group of men had entered the garden from the opposite path.

They were dressed in dark formal clothes, and the people around them moved aside almost immediately. Even from a distance, I could tell they were important. Their postures were straight, their expressions serious, and nobody seemed willing to stand in their way.

One of them was laughing at something another had said.

The man in the middle wasn't.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair that fell slightly over his forehead. His black clothes fitted him perfectly, but there was nothing soft about the way he carried himself. He looked like someone who was used to giving orders and watching people obey.

I had seen his face before.

On the announcement. On the news. On the enormous banners hanging outside the hall.

The Alpha King.

Tobias Kingston.

My body seemed to recognize the danger before my mind caught up. The air around me felt heavier, and every instinct I possessed told me to lower my eyes.

I didn't.

For some reason, I couldn't.

He was speaking to the man beside him when he suddenly stopped.

Tobias turned his head.

His gaze moved across the garden, passing over the benches and the fountains, until it landed directly on me.

I forgot how to breathe.

His expression changed.

It was subtle, barely more than a tightening around his eyes, but I saw it. The amusement disappeared from his face. His shoulders stiffened, and his hand curled slowly at his side.

For one strange second, he looked almost startled.

Then his eyes narrowed.

The scent of pine and smoke grew stronger.

I stood up without knowing why.

Tobias said something to the men beside him. One of them glanced in my direction, then back at the king, but Tobias was already moving.

Straight toward me.

My first instinct was to leave, run or anything.

My second was to wonder why the most powerful werewolf in the kingdom was walking toward a human who had done nothing more than sit on a bench.

I chose neither.

I stayed where I was, my fingers tightening around the silver token in my pocket.

The Alpha King stopped a few feet away.

Up close, he was even more intimidating. His eyes were a deep, unnatural shade of gold, and there was something in his expression that made me feel as though I had broken a rule without knowing it existed.

He looked me over once, from my face to my hands.

Then his gaze locked onto mine.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

I swallowed. This cannot be good.

“Clairaelle Fitzpatrick.”

His jaw tightened. “Your faction?”

I hesitated.

He stepped closer, and the scent of pine and smoke surrounded me. “Answer me.”

“Hu...human.”

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then his eyes flashed gold.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Tobias Kingston leaned closer, his expression hardening into something I couldn't understand.

And suddenly, I had the terrible feeling that signing my name on that application might have been the least dangerous decision I'd made all day.