(Image: King Lothar of Lornydahl)

   The throne room was a huge, uninviting space, thirty feet high at least, with rough stone walls and narrow, floor-to-ceiling, stained glass windows. They colored the little sunlight, which managed to penetrate through the heavy clouds, in somber, blue-violet hues, making the atmosphere even more solemn and grim.

   The hall was empty except for a small group consisting of Alpha Blackwolf, Beta Eldfjall, three of their most fierce warriors, and the representatives of Lornydahl's royal family. The parties had agreed to sign the peace treaty without the presence of both kings' guards, and strictly to follow the local official protocol for such a case.

   It was a long ceremony. The shifters did not understand most of it and found every minute excruciatingly boring. Relief did not come even after two hours of monotonous speeches, repeating again and again the terms of the treaty, sipping from ritual goblets, and handshakes. On the contrary, what followed filled them with endless bewilderment and quite a bit of uneasiness. They were witnessing a scene too alien to their conceptions to comprehend.

   Multiple female voices, united in a loud, heartbreaking wail, echoed among the marble columns like a resonance from another dimension. It was the only sound that could be heard, but the utter desperation it carried within itself could make one's skin crawl. The queen lamented the impending separation from one of her children. This tradition was an indispensable part of the negotiations as one of her daughters was to marry king Blackwolf to seal the peace. In truth, it was not at all clear whether the queen herself was weeping or not. She was kneeling on a thick red carpet, among colorful cushions, completely hidden under the black veils, which her ladies in waiting were holding over her in their outstretched hands. The women were going out of their way to be as loud and dramatic as possible. They undoubtedly succeeded in instilling a feeling of sorrow and doom.

   King Lothar was sitting on his huge throne of gold and sapphire, surrounded by Lornydahl's generals, his eyes narrowed in two thin slits. It was more than obvious that the noisy rite they all had to endure greatly annoyed him. He resembled a plumose peacock in his richly embroidered royal attire in emerald-green under a long red cloak with a white fur collar. Three princesses, aged between fifteen and twenty-five, pale as ghosts, and on the verge of crying, were hiding behind his back like frightened rabbits. Every time their gazes fell on the foreigners, their delicate bodies shook in distress. Each of them considered the possibility of being chosen as a future bride more terrifying than death itself. The strong prejudice played an essential part in this deeply rooted belief. The girls were petrified.

   The lack of a bigger military force during the ceremony certainly worried the humans far more than it posed a problem for the shifters. Bryson and Damien, though seated in large, upholstered chairs, immediately attracted attention with their unusually tall and muscular build, intricately ornate armor, and menacing demeanor. They were exceptional and admittedly scary. The Beta's long, blonde hair, handsome face, and deep cerulean eyes fooled no one. He was just as dangerous and ruthless as the powerful, dark wolf king next to him. They were not here as friends. They came as winners.

   There were times when fires crackled playfully in the big fireplaces. Tables laden with rare delicacies and exquisite wine awaited many noble guests. The aristocracy flaunted their sumptuous outfits and extravagant jewelry, dancing to the accompaniment of the best royal troubadours. Those times were long gone now. The glorious days had ended with King Lothar's foolish decision to attack the wolf tribes. His own greed played the nastiest joke on him.

   The human ruler was famous for his splendid balls and lavish feasts. Invitations were generously extended to even the minor noblemen from all the neighboring kingdoms, excluding only the closest one. None of these long-awaited letters, beautifully written on fancy scented paper, ever reached the wolf king. His people had always been considered illiterate brutes, unruly mountaineers, who stood in Lornydahl's way to the Southern Ocean, jeopardizing the lucrative sea trade. The tribes demanded taxes for the caravans to pass through their lands, and for the ships to dock in their harbors. King Lothar did not want to pay, although assistance and protection against the harsh conditions of the Wolf Mountain were offered for reasonable fees. He decided to take forcefully the land, which had been their home for many centuries. The invasion did not go as planned.

   Alpha Blackwolf won a bloody, long, savage war, which he had neither desired nor begun. His victory cost him much suffering and many loyal warriors and friends. He was not going to forget a single one of them as long as he lived. He stomped, proud and unforgiving, in the very heart of the human world, before their greatest king, waiting to take what was rightfully his.

   "What the fuck is this?" Damien groaned. "Are they insane? Do they think that we will take the princess away and eat her for dinner? What's all the bawling about?"

   "Most probably, yes." Bryson chuckled. "I would much rather leave this ugly place without any of his daughters. Do you think I should cry, too? Maybe that will make Lothar change his mind and let me be. I am going to face enough trouble with Ming-Yue anyway."

   The general's shoulders twitched. He remained calm, barely managing not to burst into laughter. It was good that no one could hear this conversation. His king was in no way belittling the grief of a mother, but considering that their domains bordered each other, and no one said visits were off limits, the drama definitely felt excessive. It was offensive in a way, too. Shifters were not mindless animals. He would definitely call any girl his king decided to choose a very lucky one. He wrinkled his nose. Or perhaps not. That witch, Ming-Yue would spit fire when she learned about the wedding.

   "How much longer do you think they will yowl?" he asked. "My ears are throbbing. Is there any way to avoid this marriage? Honestly, I am worried about the witch, too. She is crazy and you know it."

   "You should worry much more about what will happen if she hears you call her that," Bryson noted. "Stick to 'Your Grace', 'My Lady' and 'Infra Alpha' when you address my fiancé. You can switch to 'Luna' after I marry her. And yes, I am perfectly aware that she will not be thrilled at the perspective of me taking a second wife. I also know very well that Ming-Yue is a moon witch, and definitely not the most balanced person. I kind of like it. Why do you think I am with her?"

   Damian shook his head. "You are one recklessly brave man, My Lord. How you dare to fall asleep in her bed is beyond me. Beauty is not everything, you know."

   "I surely am," the wolf king agreed. "And it has never been about her looks. What are you taking me for? Shallow? She has many admirable qualities... Oh, look! I think it is over."

   His gaze moved to the sobbing women in sumptuous black gowns, covered in golden jewelry. They were quiet. The nearest lady slowly stood up and stepped aside. The second followed suit and took the place next to her. One by one, they all formed a tunnel of black veils for the queen to leave the hall without being seen. No one had yet managed to catch a glimpse of her since the negotiations had begun. Was it a part of the tradition? Bryson was puzzled. He had never heard of such human customs. What was going on? Why were they hiding their queen?

   Suddenly, his heart started to race. His skin heated up. He managed to maintain a calm expression, but it was obvious that he was short of breath. It was the mysterious scent again, much stronger than before. The strange smell seemed to seep right into his bloodstream and clouded his vision. Could it be poison, lethal only for shifters, that the humans had dispersed into the air? He did not trust them. They were more deceitful even than a moon witch.

   "Alpha!" Damien did not bother to use the mind link this time. His voice instantly put all the wolf warriors on alert. Their master was struggling to take a breath. The Beta jumped to his feet and gripped his sword hilt, directing a stormy glare at king Lothar. "What have you done?"

   The other man looked surprised and uneasy. He only raised his hands in response, trying to demonstrate his innocence.

   "What have you done?" Beta Eldfjall hissed like a snake ready to strike "No one will exit this room alive if you harm my king. Speak!"

   He was ready to pull out his sword when Bryson's hand on his shoulder stopped him. The youngest princess screamed and fainted into one of Lornydahl's generals' arms.

   "Easy," the Alpha choked out. He had gotten himself under control, but his breathing was still labored and fast. His eyes were glowing more than usual. They were pinned on the other king. "We shall sort this in a civil way. I am sure His Majesty will agree. Tell me, Your Grace, doesn't your wife prefer to stay with us, and see which of her daughters I will choose to propose to?"

   "My queen loves all her children equally," the older man muttered. "The pain will be excruciating regardless of your choice. Therefore, she does not need to know."

   "And yet, don't you consider it a bit rude of her to leave without greeting her future son-in-law?" The threat in the Alpha's words was palpable. He spoke quietly and politely, but there was a tone in his voice, which left no doubt that the events would go exactly as he wanted, regardless of the other king's wishes. The tension in the room grew with each passing second. Bryson's smirk was all but friendly when he added, "We are all about good manners, aren't we? Be careful, My Lord. I might get offended."

   Lothar dismissively waved his hand, directing a fake smile at the shifter. "Ahh, women. I have never fully understood them. Let us leave them to their emotions and get down to men's business." Bryson could smell his fear. This cunning man was hiding something.

   "I disagree. I have the deepest respect for women's emotions," the young king growled, jumping up from his chair. In one broad stride he was next to the line of horrified ladies. Some of them gasped or shrieked, but not a single one moved an inch from her place. He slightly bowed to where he believed the queen was, "Please, let me introduce myself, Your Grace. It would be an honor to make your acquaintance."

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A/N

Hello at the end of Chapter 2. 💗💗💗

I hope you were intrigued by this mystery.

Why do you think the queen tried to sneak out without being seen?

Do you have any theories about the disturbing scent?

Do you expect problems for the shifters, or maybe for the humans?

Share your thoughts, ask questions and criticize, if you think it is necessary.

Don't forget to vote, if you liked the chapter.

Love: Anny