The Sturdy one

Lydia went first. She stumbled on her frozen silk skirt, her thin leather shoes slipping on the icy metal step of the carriage. She would have face-planted into the snow if the guard hadn't caught her by the arm and shoved her forward like a sack of potatoes.

The other two girls followed, shaking so hard their knees knocked together.

I stepped out last.

The wind hit me like a solid wall of iron, tossing my dark hair across my face. It was freezing—colder than anything I had ever felt in the south—but that strange, deep heat inside my chest flared up to meet it. My skin didn't goosebump. My breath came out in a thick, white cloud, but I didn't shiver.

The courtyard was paved with black stone, swept clean of snow but slick with ice. High above us, guards in silver armor stood on the ramparts, their hands resting on heavy crossbows. They weren't looking at us with pity. They looked at us like we were cargo.

"Line up," the yellow-eyed envoy barked.

We stood in a messy row. Lydia, the freckled girl, the other brunette, and me. I stood at the end. Next to them, I looked like a giant. My gray wool sweater was dirty at the elbows, my jeans were stiff with dried road mud, and my hair was a wild nest of curls.

The massive double doors of the obsidian hall groaned open.

A group of men stepped out. They didn't wear coats; they wore heavy leather vests and dark trousers, their bare arms thick with muscle and old battle scars. These weren't regular wolves. Their shoulders were broader, their bones thicker. Lycans.

In the middle of them walked King Valerius.

I knew he was the King before anyone said a word. He was easily a head taller than the others. His hair was the color of winter frost, cut short and messy. He had ice-blue eyes that looked right through you, and a jagged scar ran from his left temple down to his jawline, cutting through his eyebrow. He didn't look like a king in a storybook. He looked like a killer who had stolen a crown.

"These are the southern gifts, Your Majesty," the envoy said, bowing his head.

Valerius stopped ten feet away from us. He didn't say anything at first. He just stood there with his hands tucked into his leather belt, his eyes slowly traveling down the line.

He stopped in front of Lydia. She tried to stand up straight, her pale blue dress fluttering in the wind. She gave him a weak, submissive smile, the kind she had probably practiced in front of her bedroom mirror.

"What is your name?" Valerius asked. His voice was a low, dry rumble that vibrated right through the soles of my boots.

"L-Lydia, Your Majesty," she stammered, her voice shaking with cold. "Daughter of Beta Marcus of the Western—"

"You are shivering," Valerius cut her off. His voice wasn't angry; it was bored. "Your bones are like twigs. One week of our winter and you will rot from the inside."

Lydia’s face went white. She looked like she was about to faint.

He moved to the next girl, then the freckled one. He didn't even ask their names. He just stared at them for a second before letting out a soft, dismissive grunt.

"The southern Alphas send me their weakest, most useless daughters," Valerius said, turning to his advisors. "They keep the strong ones to breed their own soldiers and send me the dolls. They think I want toys."

"Your Majesty," one of the older Lycans said, his voice tense. "The treaty—"

"The treaty is a joke," Valerius snapped.

Then, his ice-blue eyes landed on me.

He walked over, stopping right in front of me. Up close, he smelled like cold pine and copper. He was massive. I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eye.

He didn't look at me with the disgust I was used to from Gideon or Sienna. He looked at me like he was studying a strange animal that had wandered into his yard. His eyes swept over my wide shoulders, my thick waist, and the heavy curves under my oversized sweater.

"You," he said. "You aren't shivering."

"I'm not cold," I said.

Behind him, the envoy gasped. "Watch your tongue, girl. You speak to the King."

I didn't look at the envoy. I kept my eyes on Valerius. "If he wanted a doll, he should have kept looking. I don't break easy."

A sudden, sharp silence fell over the courtyard. The guards on the walls stopped moving. Lydia looked at me like I had just signed my own death warrant.

Valerius stared at me. For a long, agonizing three seconds, his face was completely blank.

Then, his lips curved into a tiny, cruel sliver of a smile.

"A big mouth to match a big frame," he murmured. He stepped even closer, his shadow completely blocking out the dim winter sun. "Who threw you away, girl?"

"Alpha Gideon," I said, my voice steady. "He sent me so he could keep his delicate daughter safe."

"Gideon," Valerius repeated the name like it was grease on his fingers. "He thinks he is clever." He turned back to the envoy. "Take the three dolls to the lower guest wing. Feed them. Let them cry."

"And this one, Your Majesty?" the envoy asked, pointing a trembling finger at me.

Valerius looked back at me, his blue eyes glinting with something dark and sharp.

"Bring her to my study," he said. "Let's see if she has any brains to go with all that meat."