Rejected By My Alpha, Claimed By The Royal King

I was an unshifted Omega, the weakest in the pack, but I always felt safe because Kaelen, the future Alpha, had protected me since we were pups.

That was until the strong warrior Seraphina arrived. Suddenly, Kaelen gave her the sweet berries he had picked for me and publicly agreed that I was a pathetic liability.

He let the entire pack mock me in the Great Hall, laughing as they called me a useless crybaby.

When I looked to him for my usual shield, he instead used his crushing Alpha Command to force me to my knees.

"Cease your weeping, Elara. It is exhausting."

He coldly declared that he needed a powerful Luna to fight by his side, not an Omega he had to constantly hide and protect.

I couldn't understand how ten years of deep connection could be erased by a month of political games.

The boy who once broke his own bones to save me from rogues now looked at me with nothing but arrogant disgust.

So, I swallowed my tears and quietly signed the departure contract for the distant Royal Academy.

I packed my bags, left all his childhood gifts on his cold stone steps, and boarded a carriage out of the territory.

He wanted a stronger Luna, so I gave up my place. From now on, I would live for myself.

Chapter 1

Elara POV

The stone of the old keep held a damp, permanent chill that clung to the tapestries and settled deep in one's bones.

My own cloak, a thing of thin-spun wool, offered little defense.

At eighteen years, the Change had yet to claim me. Without the wolf, my bones remained those of a girl, denying me the brutal velocity and sinew required for rank in this jagged life of ours. That made me an Omega-the absolute bottom of the pack hierarchy.

The proximity of an Alpha was a trial in itself; not a weight, as the poets claimed, but a sudden, draining dryness. The air would seem to be stripped of its moisture, growing thin and sharp against my tongue. My lungs felt as though they'd been filled with ice water, each inhalation a seizing spasm in my windpipe that forced a hot sting to my eyes.

And yet, I had known a sanctuary. Kaelen, heir to the Alpha's seat, had been its architect. We had come of age in the shadowed compass of this forest, and the scent that clung to him-of pine sap and a fire banked high against the frost-had been the very air of my security.

That was before the arrival of Seraphina.

She was a warrior of high blood from a neighboring clan, a political pawn sent to bind our territories. Tall and sinewed, her wolf was a thing of legend. The scent she carried, of crushed spice and the metallic tang of a fresh kill, was a kind of madness to the other males.

Behind the broad trunk of an oak, I watched the training grounds. The hunting drill had just ended in the Black Forest. A fresh towel for Kaelen was clutched in my hands, but the sound of voices from beyond a screen of hawthorn stayed my feet.

"She is a pathetic creature," Seraphina's voice cut through the damp air, sharp as splintered bone. "Incapable of a simple tracking cantrip. Should rogues breach the border, she will be the first to fall."

A stillness took hold of my limbs; the air thickened in my throat.

"Her lineage is too thin for the border wars," came Kaelen's reply. A strained nonchalance coated the words, a dissonance my ears registered but could not yet comprehend. The timber of it, once a comfort, was now a shard of ice against my spine.

"You can't teach an unshifted Omega how to hunt, Seraphina," Kaelen continued. "It's a waste of time. She needs to accept her place."

A hollow ache opened beneath my ribs, a sudden, cold cavity where there had been warmth.

My retreat was clumsy; a shift of my weight brought my boot down on a dry twig. The snap was a pistol shot in the forest's hush.

They emerged from behind the foliage, their forms dark against the light. They found me there. A familiar heat flared behind my eyes, and the dampness that followed was an old, hated reflex.

"Look at her," Seraphina laughed, crossing her arms. "A supposed wolf who cries over everything. How is she supposed to survive winter?"

My gaze flew to Kaelen, a silent plea for the shield he had always raised.

Instead, the muscle in his cheek bunched violently. I could almost hear the faint, grating sound of his back teeth, like a dry pine branch being forcibly snapped. A dangerous, molten gold bled into his irises, the beast within him straining against some invisible leash of pride.

He unleashed his presence then, not as a weight, but as a void. The very air grew thin, sucked from my lungs as if by a great vacuum, and a sharp, metallic taste flooded my mouth. My knees gave way, not from pressure, but from a sudden, boneless weakness.

"Cease your weeping, Elara," Kaelen growled, his voice a low vibration of forced, ragged annoyance. "It is exhausting."

This was not protection. This was a culling, a brutal lesson he had convinced himself I required. My gaze fell to the damp earth, a tremor starting in my hands.

That night, the winding stairs to the Elders' tower seemed to groan under the weight of my decision. A single sheet of parchment was presented to them, bearing my application to the Royal Academy in a distant land. My final request was that Kaelen be kept in ignorance of it. The Elder studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly-as if he had been expecting this day would come.

The next morning broke under a sky the color of pale ash. As I emerged from my small timber cabin, a figure detached itself from a stone pillar near the waiting carriages. It was Kaelen. In his hand, he held a small leather pouch, dark with the juice of its contents: moon-berries, the rare, sweet fruit he used to gather for me from the forest's deepest groves.

"Elara," he called out, stepping into my path.

My eyes remained fixed upon the gaps between the cobblestones as I made to pass him by.

"Elara," his voice followed, his longer stride closing the distance with ease. The sound was thick with an assurance I found odious-the belief that a simple offering of fruit could mend such a fracture.

"Are you still brooding over yesterday?" he asked, thrusting the pouch toward me. "Seraphina was merely tearing away a polite falsehood. You must learn to bear the sting of it if you are to survive here."

The pouch remained, suspended in the air between us.

"An unshifted wolf is a liability," he pressed on, his voice hardening into that familiar Alpha arrogance, a poor mask for his own frustration. "Seraphina possesses a true killer's instinct. You would do well to study it, instead of indulging in tears."

At last, my head lifted. The scent of him, that old comfort of pine and fire, was suddenly acrid, a plume of smoke that caught in my throat and threatened to choke me.

"Then perhaps," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "I should stop being a liability."

Kaelen's brow furrowed, not understanding. But I did not elaborate. I simply stepped around him and continued walking.

Our silent impasse carried us to the training grounds, where the other warriors were assembling. From their midst, Seraphina approached, her gait a study in predatory confidence.

"Moon-berries?" she purred, her eyes on the pouch still in Kaelen's hand. "A particular fondness of mine."

Without a moment's hesitation, a smile breaking across his face, Kaelen offered my berries to her.

"They are all yours," he said.

From the pocket of my cloak, my own fingers closed around the few shriveled berries I had saved from a happier morning-the last gift from the boy I thought I knew. I crossed the short distance to the great iron brazier that warmed the grounds. Saying nothing, I opened my hand over the licking flames and let them fall, watching until the sweet flesh blackened and turned to cinder.

I did not look back to see if Kaelen noticed. But somewhere behind me, I heard his breath catch-just for a moment-before Seraphina's laughter drowned it out.

Elara POV

The Great Hall of the keep was a cavern of clamorous noise and flickering torchlight. Along the heavy oak tables, warriors tore at roasted boar with greasy fingers and drank from dented tankards. At the high table, seated in the Alpha's customary place, was Kaelen. Beside him, Seraphina.

Upon a silver platter before her, she had emptied the contents of the leather pouch.

"A gift," Seraphina announced, her voice carrying over the din, "from our future Alpha."

A roar of approval went up from the tables, the sound of wood banging on wood a deafening drumbeat.

"The future Luna claims her spoils!" a hulking warrior bellowed.

They were already naming her his Luna.

Another man laughed. "The month's wager is nearly up, Kaelen. Will you yield to her clan's demands?"

I knew of the wager. Seraphina had boasted to the other she-wolves that she could secure Kaelen's proposal, and with it the alliance, within thirty days.

The words hung in the air like smoke. I waited for Kaelen to deny it, to laugh it off as drunkards' nonsense. Instead, a low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound meant as a warning, yet there was no true menace in his scent. The corner of his mouth was, in fact, turned upwards in a sort of proud smirk as his gaze settled on her.

So it was true. He knew of the wager. And he was playing along.

A faint, insistent whisper echoed at the edge of my consciousness. Elara, will he truly choose her as his Mate?

It was a Mind-Link, sent by a young packmate from across the hall.

I closed my eyes, and with a deliberate effort of will, erected a wall of silence in my mind. The link was severed.

An hour later, we were all convened in the vast, cold library for the lesson in pack histories. The Elders stood before the hearth, their forms casting long, wavering shadows. They were wolves of great age and many battles, and the very air around them seemed thick with a stern, unyielding gravity.

Ordinarily, Kaelen would have taken the seat beside me, letting his presence form a buffer, a shield for my senses against the crushing authority of the Elders. Today, he sat one row ahead, with Seraphina at his side, their shoulders nearly brushing across the narrow aisle.

He offered no protection.

A tightness seized my chest, and the air grew thin in my lungs under the sheer weight of the room's collective presence.

My gaze fell upon a slip of parchment in Kaelen's hand. He scribbled a note upon it, then slid it with a faint scratching sound across the polished wood of the desk to Seraphina. She read his words, and a small, private giggle escaped her lips before she wrote a reply. Their inner wolves were communing, a silent flirtation conducted in plain sight.

"Seraphina," the eldest of the Elders called out. "Inform the assembly of the significance of our territorial borders."

Seraphina rose to her feet, her posture one of utter confidence. "Borders are the lifeblood of the pack, protecting our resources and repelling rogues. A strong Luna must see to their patrol daily."

"Excellent," the Elder commended, a rare smile gracing his severe features.

Then, his sharp gaze fell upon me.

"Unlike some," the Elder continued, his voice hardening with a cold pragmatism. "Survival in the winter to come will demand strength. Elara, you have had the future Alpha's tutelage for years, and yet you show no progress. You cannot shift. You cannot fight. In a rogue attack, you would not merely perish-you would see your packmates slain in the futile effort of your defense."

A low ripple of derisive laughter moved through the library.

A hot flush crept up my neck, burning my cheeks.

The instinct of the Omega was to lower my head, to offer my throat in submission to the humiliation. My eyes stung with a familiar, traitorous heat.

I looked to the rigid line of Kaelen's back. In times past, his Alpha's Command would have silenced the room in a heartbeat. He would have been on his feet, snarling at any who dared mock me.

Today, he remained seated, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the edge of his desk. His gaze was fixed upon the motes of dust dancing in a stray sunbeam, his entire being coiled in a deliberate effort of non-intervention.

"Look," Seraphina whispered, her voice loud enough to carry. "She is about to weep again."

A harsh, weary sigh escaped Kaelen's lips.

"Omegas are a liability," he muttered, forcing a hollow chuckle that did not reach his eyes.

The sound of it, that broken laugh, felt like a stone slab settling upon my lungs.

I closed my eyes. I brought my teeth down upon my lower lip, biting until the warm, metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. With a will I did not know I possessed, I forced the tears back, swallowing them down like poison.

And in that moment, something inside me shifted-not my wolf, but something deeper. A door closing. A flame guttering out.

I opened my eyes and fixed them on the back of Kaelen's head, vowing that my tears would never fall before him again.

Elara POV

Following the lesson, my feet carried me directly to the highest chamber in the Elders' tower. The room was redolent of old parchment and burning beeswax.

An Elder laid a heavy contract upon the table. It was the final approval for my departure to the Royal Academy.

I bit my thumb until a single drop of blood welled, and pressed it to the bottom of the page. The sanguine seal glowed for a moment, a brief, binding flare of red.

As I descended to the main courtyard, I passed the stone armory. The heavy oak door stood ajar. I stopped, my steps arrested by the sound of Seraphina's bright, ringing laughter.

I peered through the gap.

Seraphina was perched upon the edge of a long weapons table. Kaelen stood between her knees. She was toying with a silver dagger, its blade catching the light.

"Tell me plainly, Alpha," Seraphina purred, her voice carrying a political edge disguised as flirtation as she leaned toward his face. A small assembly of male warriors watched them, their faces alight with eager grins.

"Who is the fitter to stand at your side?" Seraphina demanded, her voice rising to ensure she was heard by all. "I, or that little Omega, Elara?"

The men began to whistle and stomp their boots upon the flagstones.

Kaelen reached for the dagger, his fingers closing over the hilt to still its motion.

As he pulled, Seraphina deliberately let go, feigning a loss of balance. She fell forward, landing flush against his chest.

Kaelen caught her, his expression hardening for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a low, breathless laugh.

The warriors howled their approval.

Seraphina's arms wound around his neck, and she did not let go.

"An answer, Alpha," she whispered against his jaw.

"Your strength, Seraphina," Kaelen conceded, his eyes fixed on the silver blade rather than her face-as if he couldn't quite meet anyone's gaze. "It is what this pack requires."

I took a reflexive step back, my vision swimming for an instant. My shoulder bumped against the heavy oak door, causing it to swing inward with a loud, groaning creak that echoed off the stone walls.

Every head in the armory swiveled toward the entrance.

A flicker of raw panic crossed Kaelen's face. He pushed Seraphina from his chest with such force that she stumbled backward. Seraphina merely smirked. She retrieved the dagger and pointed its tip at me.

"Oh dear," she mocked. "Shall we fetch a mop for the tears?"

The other she-wolves in the room covered their mouths, their stifled giggles a testament to their anticipation of my collapse.

Kaelen strode toward the door, his brow furrowed.

"Elara, where are you going?" he asked, his voice tight. "I was just about to find you. I thought to teach you some basic defensive maneuvers today."

His hand stopped in mid-air, the knuckles white with tension. My gaze traveled over that hand to the gray, clouded mountains in the distance.

"To the back mountain," the words scraped from my throat, dry and without inflection.

My fingertips dug into the hem of my cloak until the nails turned a bloodless white. I stared at a patch of moss in the crack between two flagstones, forcing my weight onto my right foot to take the first step. Circling his rigid form, I walked out into the corridor, where a cold draft met me head-on.

A packmate hurried to my side as I moved down the hall.

"Are you not angered?" she whispered.

I opened my history text and carefully secreted the travel contract between its pages.

"No," I replied, my voice a study in calm. "A future Alpha has the right to choose a stronger Luna for his pack."

"But-" my packmate started.

"He made his choice," I cut her off gently. "And I have made mine."

She fell silent, perhaps sensing that something fundamental had changed in me-something she could not name.

Later that afternoon, a messenger delivered a note from Kaelen, a summons to the market. I cast it into the fire.

At sunset, I heard Seraphina's voice rise from the courtyard, asking Kaelen to take her on a night hunt in the Black Forest.

"We should take Elara," Kaelen suggested, his voice carrying.

"I decline," I called back from my window, before slamming the wooden shutters closed. I sat upon my bed, letting the cold darkness of the room settle around me, a quiet comfort in the knowledge that my time in this place was nearly at its end.

Outside, I heard Kaelen's footsteps pause beneath my window. He stood there for a long moment, saying nothing. Then Seraphina called his name, and his footsteps retreated.

I did not open the shutters.