Sheila promised Princess Sienna that I would be there. She didn't even ask me before making that decision. Not like I could have refused, but it would have been nice to have a day to myself. I know Sheila is doing this to curry favor with Sienna. Sienna is the Alpha Princess, and my cousins are among the fortunate few who run in her circle.
As I draw nearer to the palace, I notice a stream of girls my age and even younger moving in the same direction. Their laughter trails behind them as they chatter excitedly.
They must be going to the Luna selection rehearsals. Sheila and Maeve were glowing with anticipation when they left earlier. No one wants to miss the chance of being chosen as our next Luna.
My legs ache with each step. I slow down and lower my gaze, suddenly conscious of how I look beside the other girls. The wind tugs at my curls, whipping them into my eyes, and I gather them into a messy bun with trembling fingers.
A sharp grumble comes from my stomach again. For my sake, I hope the maids will be fed after working. I turn the corner leading to the palace gates, but someone darts across my path without looking, their elbow jamming into my side.
The impact throws me off balance. I stumble backward, feet slipping on the wet stone. A gasp shoots out of my throat, and my eyes squeeze shut as I brace for the fall. But a strong pair of arms curls around my waist, pulling me against something solid before I can hit the ground.
"Whoa," a familiar voice says. "Easy there, Pup-pup."
My gaze snaps up, and I'm staring into the blue eyes of my best friend.
"Mason," I breathe, my cheeks growing warm at the sight of him. His brows draw together as he takes in my shivering frame, and I jerk out of his embrace. "Thanks."
He winks. "You're welcome."
Mason is the only werewolf in Shadowspire who doesn't dismiss me. We've been friends since we were kids. For as long as I can remember, he's always been in my corner. The person I can count on. While I've remained scrawny, petite, and awkward, he has grown taller and sexier with thick, well-defined muscles that many girls drool over.
"Are you okay?" he asks. "Where's your machine?"
Laughter spills from my lips, and I roll my eyes. Only Mason calls that old bicycle a machine. It gave up on me yesterday, which is why I ended up going back home late.
"It's on a break," I whisper. "What are you doing here?"
Rather than answer, he cups my cheek. I hold back a whimper when his finger brushes the bruise inflicted by Sheila's nail polish.
His eyes narrow. "Who did this to you?"
"Oh, that?" I try to play it cool with a casual shrug, but he tenses. "It's nothing serious. Burned myself while making lunch. Held the pot too close to my face."
"Burn? Soma, this looks like someone forgot their hand on your face twice, and that's a nice way to put it," he counters. My cheeks flush, but he watches me with a seriousness that makes it impossible to look away. "Seriously, did those silly cousins of yours hit you again? Or was it your aunt this time? Which of them hurt you?"
"It's nothing," I insist.
"Who hurt you, Soma?" he growls.
A few people glance at us, but others continue forward without a second glance because we are inconsequential nobodies. Inching back, I rub my hands over my cheeks, and his eyes darken. He looks like he's two seconds away from marching over to Aunt Helen's house. But what can he do? He might have a wolf, but it's not strong.
"Drop it," I say. His mouth opens, but I cut him off. "No good will come out of talking about this. I'll focus on keeping my head down. It's the only thing I can do now."
"Soma-"
"Soon, the Luna selection will be over," I continue as if he didn't interrupt. My hand slides into the crook of his elbow, and I tug him toward the palace. "Maeve or Sheila will be mated to the crown prince and will move into the palace. I'll be free. Until then, this is really nothing."
Mason sighs. "Even if they leave, you'll be stuck with your aunt. That's hardly better." While his worries are valid, there's nothing we can do about it. "I hate this."
So do I, but in a pack where power matters, being an orphaned omega is the worst thing that can happen to anyone. Mason passes me a bar of chocolate, and I almost sob with gratitude. I chew it slowly, savoring each bite.
"Thanks," I tell him.
He squeezes my hand. "You're welcome. I wish-"
Already knowing where he's going with this, I interrupt him. "How about we meet up later? Saturday morning?"
The selection will happen at midnight, which means most people will be asleep during the day. Mason's steps falter, and I pick up speed when the palace gates appear.
"At our usual spot. The Luna selection ceremony should be over by then," I add. "Maeve and Sheila will probably still be in the palace, and Aunt Helen will be too tired to stay awake. I can make it. What do you say?"
A grin breaks out on his lips, and something warm fills my chest, easing the ache of my harsh reality.
"My Saturday morning alone with you? In the woods?" He makes it sound naughtier than it actually is. We haven't even kissed yet. "It's a date, Somadina Bello."
Heat creeps up my neck. I click my tongue, but his smile expands.
"You're yet to tell me why you're headed to the palace."
"About that, I landed this big gig with the decorators for the ceremony," he explains. "Some guy came to the store and was talking about it. Didn't think I'd get a spot."
Just like me, Mason is an orphan. He was brought up by Old Man Jimmy, a grump who runs the local liquor store.
Jimmy is more of a grumpy boss to him than a father. They argue at least twice a week, which always results in Mason spending the night out in the woods. On days I know about it, I sneak him into my room. Most of the time, Jimmy makes me appreciate Aunt Helen. As horrible as she is, she's never kicked me out of the house.
"Nice," I mutter.
"The pay is great, too. A week's wage in one day." He pulls his hand from mine and throws his arm around my shoulders. "When this is all over, I owe you a treat."
"Careful," I tease. "I have a large appetite."
Mason's laughter tickles my ears as we brush past the palace guards at the entrance. They watch everyone who enters with unreadable faces while clutching guns that are no doubt filled with wolfsbane or silver bullets.
The palace looms ahead of us like something out of a dream. Elegant yet imposing, ancient yet modern, with a perfect blend of glass, steel, and polished stone. Wide floor-to-ceiling windows reflect the surrounding hills, and sleek balconies shoot out with sharp precision.
Everything about it screams power and wealth. From the perfectly trimmed hedges lining the walkway to the towering banners fluttering in the late afternoon breeze, and the wide parking space for visitors' and royal cars. My gaze snags on a familiar black car, and my steps slow.
It's the car from yesterday.
Someone is inside. My feet forget to function as the person in the vehicle shifts. The tinted window rolls down halfway, and for the briefest second, sharp gray eyes lock onto mine.
My breath catches, and Mason tightens his grip on me.
"What's wrong?" he asks, searching my face.
"Nothing," I say quickly, forcing a smile. "Just got dizzy for a second."
The weight of the stranger's gaze digs into my back. But I don't turn. If that's a royal, I don't want to mess with them.
"My cousins signed me up for some chores," I murmur.
His brows rise. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," I say, already taking a step back. "I'll come find you once I'm done."
He nods, leaning in to brush his lips against my cheeks. "See you later, Pup-pup."
He's been calling me Pup-pup since I turned ten. Now I'm nineteen, and he still does. I have stopped trying to get him to stop. If anything, I find it endearing now. It's nice to have someone care about you for who you are.
I watch Mason walk off to join his crew. Heart still thudding from that stare, I glance back toward the car.
But it's empty.