ALTHEAI give my head a tiny shake and will myself to focus.I can feel the weight of every eye on me as I take the first step forward. My hands are clammy, so I rub them against the fabric of my dress before gathering it in my fists. The silk is soft, slippery. I walk slowly, careful not to trip or step on the hem. Every step feels louder than it should.Asher’s standing where all the girls before me met him—by the center of the garden hall, right in front of the rose arch. The gold buttons on his suit catch the sun. His dark hair is slicked back, but a small strand has come loose near his temple. He doesn’t fix it. He just stands there, posture straight, unreadable expression in place.But as I approach him, his gaze lifts to mine. His eyes meet mine directly.And… I don’t know if I imagine it, but his jaw tightens. Just a little.“Gray,” he mutters when I finally sit on the bench beside him.I roll my eyes. “Don’t even start,” I warn, and cross my arms.Even though he tries to stay
ALTHEAIt’s been hours since the photoshoot ended.I’ve been pacing my room ever since, the soft rug muffling my footsteps. The dress is long gone—stuffed into the corner like it wronged me personally. My hair’s a mess, my hands won’t stop shaking, and my stomach’s been in knots the entire time.Asher didn’t come back.He left with the soldier, heading straight to wherever they were keeping the captured revolutionary. And now he’s either still with him… interrogating him. Or worse. Torturing him.Or maybe, maybe it’s already over. Maybe the interrogation happened quickly, and now they know everything. Maybe Asher already knows that I used to run messages for Aaron. That I knew about the safehouses. That I knew this attack was part of the plan. That I was one of them.Maybe they’re just waiting for the right moment to barge in. Drag me out in chains. Or worse.I sit on the edge of the bed, gripping the bedsheets tight enough that my knuckles go white. The sun outside fades slowly into
ALTHEAThe gates creak open at dusk and all of us make our way out. We’d been woken up from our sleeps less than an hour ago, and told that the king had a new task for us. He wanted us to conquer the maze of mirrors. The maze stands before us like something torn from a nightmare—tall walls of glass and mirror, reflecting the fading light in a thousand twisting, fractured ways. The guards usher us forward with unreadable faces. The king’s voice cuts above the silence.“Make it out before dawn,” he says. “Or don’t make it out at all.”No one laughs. We all know he isn’t joking about it. And if anything, he’s proven to us that he could care less about any of us.I step through the archway last. The air inside the maze is cool and still, and every surface gleams like ice. I catch glimpses of myself in the mirrors on either side—tired eyes, tight jaw, hands clenched at my sides.The path splits into three directions. Each one looks exactly the same.I take the left.At first, it’s quiet.
ALTHEAThere are eight of us left now.Only eight.And still, I feel like I’m unraveling.I sit on the edge of my bed, fingers tangled in the thick blanket, staring at nothing. Before we were dismissed to our rooms, I and the other girls had been in the grand hall, whispering about who made it and who didn’t. Now alone, I’m somewhere else.Back in the maze.Back in front of that mirror, where my father looked up at me with eyes that weren’t his—cold, sharp, disappointed. You betrayed us. The words echo, even though he never said them aloud. Even though it was just an illusion.But it didn’t feel like a lie.What if he’s right?What if I have betrayed them—my family, my people, myself?By being here?By surviving?By letting the king turn me into one of his toys?I tell myself I don’t want the crown. I don’t want power. That I’m here to survive. To find out the truth. To stay alive long enough to make something right.But the mirror didn’t lie. It showed me things I never wanted to adm
ALTHEA “Noooo!” I wake up gasping for air, my skin damp with sweat. The nightmare, the same dream, yet again, clings to my mind like a fog I can’t shake off. It’s become more frequent ever since I turned twenty one a month ago. I sit up, pushing my damp hair off my forehead. My heart pounds in my chest as I try to catch my breath. The scene replays in my mind, vivid and strange. I’m standing between two wolves, one white, one black. They’re enormous, their eyes locked in a silent challenge. Then, just like always, they lunge at each other, a blur of fur and fangs. And just like every other time, I wake up before I can make sense of it. “ALTHEA!” My stepmother’s voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and demanding. Right on cue. I groan, dragging myself out of bed. My legs feel heavy, like I’ve been running in my sleep. My room is small but cozy, though it does little to shield me from the chaos of my home. “Coming!” I shout back, though I know it won’t stop her from yelling
ALTHEAThat night, I sit in my room, staring at the wall. My heart feels heavy, and my mind won’t stop replaying the scene in the grove. It all still seems like a nightmare. How else can I explain it? A sharp knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. Madeline peaks into the room. “Your father is back, he wants to see you in his study.” My body feels heavy as I move, every step toward my father’s study a struggle. When I knock on the door and hear his voice call me in, I take a deep breath, trying to steel myself. I push the door open and freeze when I see who else is occupying the room. Lila is already there, sitting primly in one of the chairs in front of his desk. She turns to me with a bright smile. “Good evening , sister,” she says, her tone sweet. But there’s a smugness present in her gaze that I couldn’t miss even I was I blind. I force myself to move, taking the seat my father gestures to. I don’t meet Lila’s gaze. I can’t. My chest fe
ALTHEALike a woman on a mission, my feet don’t stop moving. Not when I slip past the pack gates. Not when I weave through the glowing city streets. My steps are relentless, driven by a single goal. And when the bar comes into view, I know I’ve made the right decision tonight. Getting shit-faced. I chose a place far from home, somewhere I’m least likely to run into anyone familiar. The sting of betrayal still burns in my chest, raw and unrelenting. I trusted him. He was the one person who wasn’t supposed to hurt me, and he shattered that trust with effortless cruelty. It still hurts, but at least I’m brave enough to admit it. Fate has the cruelest sense of humor. I’ve tried not to let the grief or the thoughts of my impending doom consume me, but sometimes it hits like a freight train. Tonight, I’ve decided not to fight it. Shrugging off my bitterness, I step into the crowded pub. The room is alive with noise. There’s a lot of shouting, laughter, clinking glasses, but my
ALTHEA“There’ll be no one to hear you cry out tonight,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the skin of my throat. “No one but me.” His teeth graze my neck, and a shiver rolls down my spine. His hand cups me boldly over my jeans, the heat of his touch igniting something wild and reckless inside me. The journey to the bed is a blur of heat and urgency, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he finally lowers me onto the soft mattress, I’m trembling, caught between desire and the faintest flicker of fear. His hand reaches out, his thumb sweeping along my bottom lip. Pulling it down, away from my teeth, letting it plop back in place. It’s delicate, the way his hand then caresses my jaw, reaching behind my neck as his voice softens, “Lay back.” I obey the soft command without preamble, eyes meeting the ceiling as my back hits the bed. A dip forms beside my ribs, where his palm sinks into the mattress as he hovers over me. The other traces up my denim clad thig
ALTHEAThere are eight of us left now.Only eight.And still, I feel like I’m unraveling.I sit on the edge of my bed, fingers tangled in the thick blanket, staring at nothing. Before we were dismissed to our rooms, I and the other girls had been in the grand hall, whispering about who made it and who didn’t. Now alone, I’m somewhere else.Back in the maze.Back in front of that mirror, where my father looked up at me with eyes that weren’t his—cold, sharp, disappointed. You betrayed us. The words echo, even though he never said them aloud. Even though it was just an illusion.But it didn’t feel like a lie.What if he’s right?What if I have betrayed them—my family, my people, myself?By being here?By surviving?By letting the king turn me into one of his toys?I tell myself I don’t want the crown. I don’t want power. That I’m here to survive. To find out the truth. To stay alive long enough to make something right.But the mirror didn’t lie. It showed me things I never wanted to adm
ALTHEAThe gates creak open at dusk and all of us make our way out. We’d been woken up from our sleeps less than an hour ago, and told that the king had a new task for us. He wanted us to conquer the maze of mirrors. The maze stands before us like something torn from a nightmare—tall walls of glass and mirror, reflecting the fading light in a thousand twisting, fractured ways. The guards usher us forward with unreadable faces. The king’s voice cuts above the silence.“Make it out before dawn,” he says. “Or don’t make it out at all.”No one laughs. We all know he isn’t joking about it. And if anything, he’s proven to us that he could care less about any of us.I step through the archway last. The air inside the maze is cool and still, and every surface gleams like ice. I catch glimpses of myself in the mirrors on either side—tired eyes, tight jaw, hands clenched at my sides.The path splits into three directions. Each one looks exactly the same.I take the left.At first, it’s quiet.
ALTHEAIt’s been hours since the photoshoot ended.I’ve been pacing my room ever since, the soft rug muffling my footsteps. The dress is long gone—stuffed into the corner like it wronged me personally. My hair’s a mess, my hands won’t stop shaking, and my stomach’s been in knots the entire time.Asher didn’t come back.He left with the soldier, heading straight to wherever they were keeping the captured revolutionary. And now he’s either still with him… interrogating him. Or worse. Torturing him.Or maybe, maybe it’s already over. Maybe the interrogation happened quickly, and now they know everything. Maybe Asher already knows that I used to run messages for Aaron. That I knew about the safehouses. That I knew this attack was part of the plan. That I was one of them.Maybe they’re just waiting for the right moment to barge in. Drag me out in chains. Or worse.I sit on the edge of the bed, gripping the bedsheets tight enough that my knuckles go white. The sun outside fades slowly into
ALTHEAI give my head a tiny shake and will myself to focus.I can feel the weight of every eye on me as I take the first step forward. My hands are clammy, so I rub them against the fabric of my dress before gathering it in my fists. The silk is soft, slippery. I walk slowly, careful not to trip or step on the hem. Every step feels louder than it should.Asher’s standing where all the girls before me met him—by the center of the garden hall, right in front of the rose arch. The gold buttons on his suit catch the sun. His dark hair is slicked back, but a small strand has come loose near his temple. He doesn’t fix it. He just stands there, posture straight, unreadable expression in place.But as I approach him, his gaze lifts to mine. His eyes meet mine directly.And… I don’t know if I imagine it, but his jaw tightens. Just a little.“Gray,” he mutters when I finally sit on the bench beside him.I roll my eyes. “Don’t even start,” I warn, and cross my arms.Even though he tries to stay
ALTHEA “Who was the founding werewolf of the Silver Crescent pack?” Lady Ivanna quizzes. I freeze, eyes flicking to the ornate gold trim on the floor-length curtains. I don’t know this one. I try not to look guilty, but my shoulders tense and my gaze drops, praying she doesn’t call on me. A soft shuffle to my left. Elise’s hand shoots up, confident as ever. “Alaric Stormclaw,” she answers. Lady Ivanna nods approvingly. “Correct. Alaric Stormclaw was the first werewolf to invade these lands and fight against the humans.” We’re seated in the Great Room again. The long polished table gleams beneath the morning light that filters in from the high arched windows. Paintings of past rulers line the walls. Most of them are men with cold eyes and stiff posture. All of us girls—contestants, as the kingdom so kindly calls us—are gathered here at the start of the week for another lesson. Lady Ivanna’s lessons aren’t the worst part of being here, but they are a reminder. A reminder that
ALTHEAI don’t know what I expected when Elise told me she had a secret, but it wasn’t that.Asher kissed her.I sit there, still and stiff, trying to keep my face calm, but my stomach twists like a knot being pulled tighter and tighter.Why does it bother me so much?I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. He can kiss whoever he wants. Elise is sweet and kind. He probably sees her as someone safe. Someone who fits in this palace life.Unlike me.I force my lips into a smile and nod, pretending her words didn’t just cut through me like a blade. Before I can say anything else, a familiar voice breaks into our little corner.“What did you guys do on your date?”I blink, turning toward the voice.Sophie.She’s standing right in front of us, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised like she already knows the answer.“Hi, Sophie,” Elise says with a polite smile.“Oh hush,” Sophie snaps, waving her off without looking at her. Her sharp gaze locks onto me instead. “Come on, Althea. Spill.”“What are you tal
ALTHEAI wake up slower than usual. My eyes feel heavy, my body heavier. Every inch of me aches from yesterday—from the hunt, the fear, the cruel discovery in the garden, and the dream that refused to let me go.The memory of it still clings to my skin like frost.Asher. The white wolf.I sit up slowly, pressing my palm against my side where the black wolf bit me in the dream. There’s no wound there, but it still feels sore.I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. The entire idea of the mate games—it’s based on the legend of the white wolf. The perfect mate. The protector. The rare and destined bond. Everyone talks about it like it’s some beautiful fairytale.But I’ve been dreaming about him.And now that I know Asher is the white wolf… I have more questions than answers.Because there were two wolves in the dream.The black one—the one that always attacks. The one I always run from.If Asher is the white wolf, then who’s the other? What does it mean that they always fight? And why do
ALTHEAThe sun is higher now, casting soft gold across the palace walls, but there’s no warmth in it. I sit on the cold stone steps, my breath steady but shallow. My body hurts. My mind even more.One by one, the other girls arrive from the forest. Most of them limping, bleeding, dirty. But alive.I count them. Over and over.Only two never return.Mira and one of the betas.The ache in my chest grows heavy when I realize it’s true. They didn’t make it.Not everyone survived.Unfortunately, Caroline did.She walks in with a smug smile, a scratch on her cheek like it’s some kind of trophy. Her eyes flick to me—quick and sharp—but I look away. If I meet her stare, I might do something I regret.A guard steps forward, clearing his throat. He holds out his hand. I place the Bloodlight Flower in his palm.It’s still warm. Still glowing faintly. Still smells like copper and ash.He turns and brings it to the king, who stands watching from the edge of the courtyard.King Theron doesn’t even
ALTHEAI yank at the vines choking my legs, the flower still clutched in my fist. My heart pounds so loud I can barely hear anything else, but the forest won’t let me go. It wants me to suffer.The roots tighten. Thorns prick my skin. I scream—raw, frustrated. Then I grab my knife and hack at the vines until they loosen. My arms shake. My lungs burn.Finally, I’m free.I scramble to my feet and run again, holding the Bloodlight Flower like it’s my last breath.The forest is a nightmare. Trees twist into wrong shapes. The path keeps shifting. The whispers are louder now—screaming instead of speaking. I don’t know what’s real anymore. My thoughts feel slippery, like I can’t hold onto them for more than a second.Then I see someone up ahead.Another girl.She stumbles out from between two trees—her cloak torn, blood on her hands. It’s Maria. One of the quiet ones. The smart ones.Her eyes go wide when she sees what I’m holding.“The flower,” she says, voice hoarse. “You found it.”I take