Chapter 2 The King's Choice

The silence after Damian's words lasted only three heartbeats. Then the hall exploded.

Whispers turned into gasps. "He's joking," someone said. "That one? The soft girl from the back?"

Ivy still could not move. Damian's golden eyes held hers a second longer, cold and assessing, then he turned away as if the matter was finished, striding toward a side door, two guards falling into step.

A woman in silver robes approached at once, her eyes flicking over Ivy's body with the same quick judgment the pack had always used. "Come with me. The King requires a private confirmation."

Ivy's legs unlocked. She followed, aware of every stare tracking her across the marble. The other candidates parted the way people step aside for something unpleasant. No one spoke to her.

They passed a corridor overlooking the palace gardens, hedges and stone paths she barely saw. Her pulse thundered. One word kept circling her mind. Her. Chosen, in front of hundreds of women who looked nothing like her.

They stopped before a heavy oak door. The woman knocked once, then gestured her inside.

The room was dark paneled, cold northern light through tall windows. Damian stood at the far window, back to her, hands clasped behind him. He didn't turn when the door closed.

"You may speak," he said at last.

"I don't understand."

"You were selected." He turned, golden eyes without warmth. "That is all you need to understand for now."

Up close he was overwhelming, taller than any man in Silverpine, shoulders broad enough to block the light. Ivy's dormant wolf stirred, a faint restless shift she'd never felt before. She ignored it.

"Why me?"

His gaze traveled over her once, clinical, lingering on the soft line of her waist. No desire in it. Only calculation.

"The physicians examined the preliminary lists. Your bloodwork, your cycle, your health. You are the most suitable vessel for an heir. Fertile and healthy. No prior mate claims. That is sufficient."

Vessel. The word landed like a slap.

"I'm not—"

"You are not required to be beautiful. Not required to be strong. Only what the contract demands." He stepped closer, the scent of him, clean snow and dark spice, wrapping around her. "You will carry my child. Remain here until the birth. Receive the compensation. Afterward, leave and never return. No mate bond. No Luna title. No claim on me or this kingdom beyond the agreement."

Each sentence was precise, stripped of emotion. Ivy felt smaller with every one.

"And if I refuse?"

Something almost like amusement flickered and vanished. "Then you return to your pack empty handed, and the next candidate is brought forward. Your family's debts remain."

He knew about the debts. Of course he did.

Ivy swallowed, the memory of her mother's tired face, the pack's laughter, pressing in at once. She lifted her chin. "I want the terms in writing. Everything. Compensation. Medical care. What happens if the pregnancy goes wrong. What happens to the child after."

Something in his cold assessment shifted, as if he hadn't expected her to speak that way. "You will have them. The contract comes this afternoon. Read every line, negotiate minor points if you wish. Once you sign, it is binding under royal and Moon law."

He turned toward the door. "One more thing. You will address me only as Your Majesty or Alpha King in public. In private, my name if you must, but do not mistake proximity for familiarity. You are here for one purpose. Do not forget it."

Ivy walked out on unsteady legs.

The morning blurred into corridors and servants who avoided her eyes. She was given a temporary suite in the east wing, a sitting room, a four poster bed, a copper tub, fresh clothes already laid out in her size. Someone had measured her without her noticing.

She stood at the window, thinking of Caleb retelling the story of how the plump dormant girl had somehow been chosen by the Alpha King. The laughter would be endless.

A soft knock. A young maid, eyes lowered. "Miss Carter. The royal physicians request your presence. Afterward, the contract will be ready."

The examination was thorough, two healers checking her pulse, her scent, the quiet absence of an awakened wolf, asking about her cycles and history. Ivy answered flatly, cheeks burning. When they finished, they exchanged a look she couldn't read.

"She remains the strongest candidate," one murmured. "The blood markers are... unusual, but favorable."

Unusual. Ivy filed the word away.

By late afternoon she sat across from a scribe and a sharp featured councilor. Damian was not present. A thick contract lay before her, pages edged in gold.

"Read carefully. The King has approved the standard terms. You may request clarification, nothing more."

She would live under royal protection, submit to medical checks, share the King's bed only for conception. Once pregnancy was confirmed, intimacy would cease. After birth, the child stayed with the royal family. She would receive an initial payment, monthly support, and a final settlement, then leave within thirty days and never contact the child or King again without permission.

The compensation numbers made her breath catch. Enough to clear every debt. Enough to keep her mother safe for life.

"Clause twelve. If the pregnancy endangers my life, I want the right to terminate and still receive half the final settlement."

The councilor's eyebrows rose. "That is not standard."

"It is reasonable," Ivy said, voice steady though her hands trembled. "I am risking my body. I will not risk it without protection."

A long silence. His mouth tightened, but he made a note. "Accepted. Minor adjustment. Anything else?"

She found two more points, access to her own healer, and the right to write her mother weekly. Both granted with visible reluctance.

He produced a heavy gold pen. "Sign."

Ivy's fingers closed around it. For a moment she saw Caleb's face the night he rejected her, the pack's laughter, her mother's tired eyes. Then Damian's stare when he called her nothing more than a suitable vessel.

She signed her name.

The instant the last stroke left the page, something in the air shifted, a faint pressure, like the first drop of rain before a storm. She dismissed it as nerves.

"You are now under royal protection and restriction," the councilor said, gathering the contract. "Your rooms are prepared in the royal wing. Dinner is at seven. The King does not require your presence tonight." He left without another word.

Ivy sat for several minutes, staring at the empty space where the contract had been.

She was no longer just Ivy Carter from Silverpine, the girl the pack called too soft, too quiet, too much.

She was the Alpha King's chosen breeder.

And somewhere in the palace, the man who had selected her like livestock was already moving on, as if the choice had cost him nothing at all.

Ivy rose slowly, legs unsteady, and forced them to carry her to the door.

Whatever came next, she would not break in front of them.

Not again. Not ever.