Chapter 2 Silk and Smoke

Selene POV

Two hours later the great hall had become something out of a dream.

Every sconce blazed. The long tables were buried under roasted venison and glazed vegetables and bread so fresh the smell of it made Selene's stomach ache. Wine moved freely between hands. The musicians in the corner had found their rhythm, drums and flutes weaving together under the noise of a hundred conversations happening at once.

And wolves. Everywhere, wolves.

Not in beast form. This was a formal gathering and civilized wolves kept their other selves tucked away at dinner tables. But Selene could feel them. Every single one. Power rolled off the guests in waves she could sense even if she couldn't name it yet. Alphas sat at the high tables with their broad shoulders and their careful eyes. Betas clustered in groups, talking with their hands. A few Omegas moved through the room like rare jewels, treated gently, watched closely.

Selene sat at the children's table with Isolde pressed warm against her side and a handful of other noble children she didn't know well enough to like yet.

"That's Lord Varion." The boy across from her nodded toward the far table without looking directly at it. Smart. "He controls three territories east of the Thornridge border."

"My father says he's greedy," the girl beside him said.

"Everyone with power is greedy. That's how they got it."

Selene said nothing. She was watching her father.

Lord Matthias was performing tonight. There was no other word for it. He laughed at the right moments. Raised his glass when the room raised theirs. Clapped men on the back with the easy warmth of someone who had nothing to hide and nowhere else to be.

But his shoulders never relaxed. Not once.

Her mother moved between tables like water, filling silences, refreshing glasses, asking after children and hunts and harvest seasons with a smile so practiced it could have been carved into her face. Lady Elara Eltharion had been a nobleman's wife for long enough that gracious came naturally as breathing.

Selene loved her for it and found it heartbreaking in equal measure.

"You are staring," Isolde said into her cup.

"I'm watching."

"Same thing."

"It really isn't."

Isolde wrinkled her nose and reached for another piece of bread.

Selene's gaze drifted toward the servants' entrance near the far wall.

Alaric was there.

He stood just inside the shadow the doorframe threw across the floor, far enough back that most guests wouldn't notice him at all. He had dressed for the occasion, dark formal clothes, hair combed back. He could have taken a seat at any of the tables. Her father would have welcomed it. Her mother would have pulled out the chair herself.

Instead he stood alone and watched the room with the patience of someone who had nowhere better to be and nothing left to prove.

He was seventeen. Maybe eighteen by now. Selene had never been entirely sure. He'd come to them when she was four, a boy with hollow cheeks and eyes too old for his face, the only survivor when his pack was destroyed in a territorial dispute. Her father had taken him in without hesitation. Given him a name in their household. A room. A place at the table.

Alaric had never quite sat down at it.

She caught his eye across the hall.

He didn't smile. Didn't wave. His gaze settled on her the way it always did, steady and unreadable and a little too long. Like she was something he was keeping track of.

A chill moved down her spine that she couldn't explain and didn't want to examine.

"Selene." Isolde tugged her sleeve. "You're not eating again."

"I'm not hungry."

"It's the Moonlight Feast. You are always hungry at the Moonlight Feast."

Selene picked up her fork and took a bite of venison. It tasted like nothing.

At the high table, a visiting lord climbed to his feet with his wine glass raised high. The hall quieted.

"To Lord Matthias Eltharion!" His voice carried easily. "A true Beta wolf. Loyal to his pack and loyal to his king!"

"To Lord Matthias!"

Glass met glass. Her father stood and bowed.

"You honor me. But tonight we honor something greater than any one man." He lifted his own glass. The candlelight caught it. "We honor the bonds between packs. The kinship that makes all of us strong." A pause. Just a breath. "To Alpha King Damian. May his reign be long and just."

"To the Alpha King!"

Selene watched the room drink.

Most of them did it cleanly. Glasses up, glasses down, conversation resuming. But there were a few, she counted four without trying, who brought their glasses to their lips without quite drinking. Whose eyes moved to each other just a fraction of a second too quickly.

Her wolf pressed against the inside of her chest like a hand against a locked door.

"Papa looks scared," Isolde said quietly.

"He's fine."

"No." Isolde's voice was very small. "He's not. I can feel it. My wolf can feel it."

Selene turned to look at her sister properly. "You can already feel your wolf?"

"A little. Since last month." Isolde looked up at her. "Can't you feel yours?"

"Yes." Selene reached under the table and found her sister's hand. "And right now she's scared too."

Isolde's fingers locked around hers and held on tight.

The musicians shifted tempo. Younger wolves drifted toward the open floor to dance. The children's table was forgotten as the adults fell into the warmer, louder business of a feast finding its stride.

Selene breathed. Let her shoulders drop. Maybe she was borrowing trouble from tomorrow. Maybe this was just politics and wine and things she didn't have the context to understand yet.

She took another bite of bread.

"I need the privy," Isolde announced.

"I'll come with you."

"I'm not a baby."

"Mama said to stay together."

Isolde opened her mouth, closed it, and stood up with the dignified suffering of a seven year old who knew she had already lost. Selene stood with her and they slipped away from the table, moving toward the corridor that led away from the noise and the light.

Behind them, the feast roared on.