Chapter 7: The Welcome Ball

CLAIRAELLE’S POV

Savannah fell into close step on my left side. Zelda took the right. A few places ahead, Lyra and her friends walked with easy confidence of people who were expected to be noticed tonight.

I touched my pendant once, then let my hand fall beside me.

As we moved into the corridor, the music grew louder. The path toward the grand ballroom was lined with soft light and pale stone. Ahead, the wide double doors stood open.

Beyond them, the ballroom awaited. It was vast, bright, and already filled with people who did not belong to the candidate group. There were Officials. Nobles. Guards. Figures in formal armor and rich clothing.

The rich people. They were all here.

At the far end of the room, standing on a raised platform beneath blue banners, I saw a familiar figure in black ceremonial armor.

He had golden eyes. Just like I remembered.

Even from this distance, the bond under my ribs stirred like a bruise that had never healed.

Alpha King Tobias Kingston was here.

And when the first line of candidates stepped through the doors, those gold eyes of his lifted...and locked directly onto mine.

I quickly looked away.

~

The grand ballroom opened in front of us like a different world.

High ceilings arched overhead, painted with silver constellations that seemed to shift when the light hit them. Crystal fixtures hung in long rows, casting a warm glow across the pale stone floor. Tall windows lined one side of the room, showing the darkening sky outside. At the far end, a raised platform held a long table draped in blue and red. Banners with the crescent moon hung behind it.

Music drifted from a group of musicians near the platform. They were stringing their instruments softly and elegantly.

Candidates filed in along the edges of the room. Nobles and officials already filled the center, dressed in rich fabrics and formal armor. Conversations paused as we entered. Every eyes turned toward us—curious, assessing, dismissive.

Savannah stayed close on my left. Zelda kept to my right, her posture relaxed but alert.

“Remember,” Savannah murmured, “we’re here to be looked at. But don't do too much in other not to attract unnecessary attention.”

“I wasn't planning on doing anything at all,” I said.

Zelda’s gaze moved across the room. “Too late for some people though.”

A few places ahead, Lyra and her friends had already drawn attention to themselves. The gold gown made her stand out under the crystal light. She smiled as a pair of young werewolf nobles approached her group, clearly comfortable with the attention.

Near the platform, among the highest-ranking guests, stood a man I had not noticed at first.

Blonde hair, neatly kept. Red eyes that caught the light like polished glass. He wore black formal attire without a single unnecessary detail. His posture was perfectly still, calm in a way that felt deliberate rather than relaxed. Even from a distance, he was ridiculously good-looking. He had sharp features, composed expression, the kind of presence that did not need to demand attention because it already held it.

He was watching the candidates enter with keen interest. When his gaze passed over the crowd, it did not linger on anyone in particular.

Until it reached me.

The look was steady. Unreadable. He did not smile or frown. He simply observed, as if filing something away for later. Then his attention moved on as smoothly as it had arrived.

I looked away.

That was weird.

An official near the entrance guided all the candidates further inside. We were directed to stand in loose rows facing the platform. The music softened and conversations faded.

Madam Jacqueline stepped up onto the platform first, followed by several other officials. Then the royal party entered from a side door.

Tobias Kingston walked at the center of them.

In his black ceremonial armor and golden eyes that did not need to search the room to find what they wanted.

Even with distance and people between us, the bond under my ribs tightened like a fist. The rejection still sat there, raw and hurtful. Feeling him this close made it worse.

But I managed to keep my face still.

A woman in deep blue robes stepped forward and welcomed us on behalf of the royal household. Her speech was polished and brief. Honor of the Selection, strength of the candidates, the importance of the trials ahead. I absorbed only pieces of it. Most of my attention stayed locked on the fact that Tobias had not looked away from the candidate lines since we entered.

When the formal welcome ended, the music resumed at a fuller volume. Officials invited the candidates to move freely through the ballroom. Servants appeared with trays of drinks and food. Nobles began approaching the girls who looked most like they belonged here.

The ones who reeked of desperation.

Lyra was already laughing at something a tall werewolf said to her. Her friends stood close, enjoying the reflected attention.

Savannah exhaled quietly. “And so it begins.”

“What does?” I asked.

“The sorting,” Zelda said. “Who gets noticed. Who gets ignored. Who gets tested before the actual trials start.”

A server passed with a tray. Savannah took a glass and drank from it. I declined. Zelda did the same.

We moved toward one of the quieter edges of the room, near a tall window. From there I could see most of the ballroom without standing in the middle of it. The crystal light caught on jewelry and polished armor. Conversations rose and fell. Every so often I felt eyes on me—quick glances that slid away when I met them.

I'm sure they were all thinking the same thing.

A Human. Unusual. Probably won't last long here.

Near the platform, the blonde-haired man with red eyes stood speaking quietly with two vampire officials. His expression remained cool and collected. At one point his gaze drifted across the room again and settled on me for a second time. Still no reaction. Just that same steady, untelling look.

“Looks like you're attracting attention without even trying,” Savannah said under her breath.

“Huh? I don't think so.”

“I'm serious. Look.”

I followed her subtle glance toward the platform.

Tobias was speaking with two nobles. His posture was controlled. His expression gave nothing away. But every few moments his gaze returned to the section of the room where I stood, as if pulled there against his will.

The bond reacted each time. A low, unwanted pull under my ribs. I pressed my fingers lightly against the pendant at my throat and forced my breathing to stay even.

Zelda noticed. “You look pale. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” I said.

A small group of candidates drifted closer to us with curious faces, but not bold enough to speak first. Before any of them could try, Lyra’s voice carried from a few steps away.

“I still can’t believe they let a human pass through registration,” she said, loud enough for nearby ears, my ears. “It’s almost charming. Like watching someone bring a butter knife to a sword fight.”

Her friends laughed. A couple of nobles nearby smiled as if the comment had been clever.

Savannah turned her head just enough to look at Lyra. “Interesting strategy, that girl. Insulting and trying to undermine people before the trials start.” She retorted loud enough for Lyra to hear.

Lyra’s gold eyes narrowed at Savannah. “And I think anyone willing to be friends with the human must be an idiot.”

Savannah gave her a fake smile and turned her back to her.

Zelda’s mouth curved slightly in amusement, but she remained quiet. I kept my expression blank and looked past them toward the platform. Engaging would only feed whatever game Lyra was playing.

Before the exchange could sharpen further, a formal chime cut through the music.

An official stepped forward on the platform.

“Candidates,” he called. “The royal family invites a formal greeting. You will approach the platform in groups of twenty, offer respect, and return to the floor. This is protocol. It is not optional.”

A low murmur moved through the candidates.

Savannah’s voice dropped. “Of course it isn’t.”

We were guided into lines. I ended up several places behind Lyra’s group and two places ahead of Savannah and Zelda. The line moved slowly. Each group of twenty stepped up, bowed or inclined their heads, received a short acknowledgment, and moved aside.

When my group was called forward, the distance between me and the platform closed too quickly.

Tobias stood near the center of the receiving line. Up close, the bond became harder to ignore. The air felt tighter. My pulse climbed against my will.

I kept my eyes lowered as protocol required and inclined my head with the others.

For a moment I thought I would pass without direct contact.

Then a voice—controlled, familiar, and cold—cut through the formal stillness.

“Candidate 317.”

317. That was the candidate number given to me after registration.

My head lifted before I could stop it.

Tobias was looking directly at me. The officials nearest to him had gone carefully blank. The other candidates around me stiffened just like I did.

“Step forward,” he said.