Lahat ng Kabanata ng Rejected By my Mate, Chosen By the King : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The hall smelled like pine smoke and too many bodies pressed into too small a space, and Elena Voss stood in the middle of it trying to remember how to breathe normally.Three hundred pack members. Maybe more. She'd stopped counting somewhere around the second row of Elders, back when she still thought this night was going to go the way everyone promised her it would."Step forward," said the Beta, and she did, because that was what you did when the pack Beta told you to step forward at your own Choosing Ceremony. Her boots sounded too loud against the stone floor. Somewhere behind her, her mother was gripping her father's arm hard enough to leave marks — Elena could smell the anxiety coming off both of them in waves, sharp and sour under the cedar incense.Marcus stood at the front of the hall, backlit by the fire pit, looking exactly like what he was: the next Alpha of the Ashcombe pack, twenty-six years old, built like something out of a recruitment poster, and utterly certain of h

Elena didn't get an answer to what she was. Not that night.The moment the torches guttered out along the tree line, Kael went still in a way that had nothing to do with calm — his head turned, slightly, toward the sound of voices carrying through the woods, and whatever softness had crept into his expression in the clearing folded itself away like it had never been there."Someone's coming," he said."That's Ashcombe territory. Someone's always coming.""Not like this." He was already moving, putting himself half a step between her and the sound, and Elena felt a flicker of irritation under the nerves — she didn't need protecting, not from her own pack, not on the worst night of her life on top of everything else. Then she heard it too. Not the scattered chatter of wolves heading home from the ceremony. Footsteps, several sets, moving with purpose."They'll have noticed you're gone," Kael said. "Rejected omegas don't usually wander off into the trees. Someone will have gone looking,

The Elders' chamber had never felt small before. Elena had been in it exactly twice in her life — once for her naming ceremony as an infant, which she didn't remember, and once for her cousin's disciplinary hearing after a fight three summers back, which she remembered mostly for how bored she'd been, sitting at the back while old men argued about a broken fence.Tonight it felt like a room built specifically to make her feel small in it.Five Elders sat behind the long stone table, and Marcus sat slightly apart from them, which Elena noted with a flicker of something too tired to be real anger. Of course he was here. Of course he got a seat near the judges instead of standing where the accused stood, even though technically she hadn't been accused of anything. Yet."Elena Voss." The eldest of them, a woman named Ophelia who Elena had always found more unsettling than the others, folded her hands on the table with the particular precision of someone who'd been folding her hands like t

She didn't pack much. That surprised her, standing in the middle of her room with a single bag half-full on the bed — twenty-two years in one house, and it turned out most of it wasn't hers to take. The furniture belonged to the family. The books belonged to the pack library, technically, borrowed so long ago the borrowing had become ownership in every way except the one that mattered now. What was actually, unquestionably hers fit into a bag that wasn't even full.A second cloak. Her mother's old hunting knife, given to her on her sixteenth birthday with more ceremony than the day probably deserved. A small carved wolf her father had made before he died, worn smooth at the ears from years of being turned over in her hands during nights she couldn't sleep.She was turning it over now, actually — she noticed her own hands doing it without having decided to, an old habit surfacing under stress the way old habits always did."You don't have to do this today," her mother said from the doo

The room Nyra led her to wasn't what Elena expected, though she couldn't have said exactly what she'd expected instead. Something colder, maybe. Something that matched the fortress's exterior — all dark stone and old power. Instead she found warm light from candles set into wall alcoves, a low table already laid with bread and a stew that smelled like nothing she'd eaten in Ashcombe, and a window that looked out over the valley they'd descended into, hills rolling away into a dusk just beginning to purple at the edges. "Eat," Nyra said, dropping into a chair across the table with the easy, unbothered posture of someone in her own space. "You've got that look people get right before they collapse and pretend they're fine about it." "I don't have a look." "You have exactly that look." Nyra tore a piece of bread and gestured with it, not unkindly. "I've seen it on every stray his Grace has dragged back here over the years. Give it another hour and you'll either eat or fall asleep face