The Great Hall's opulence lingered in my senses as we were ushered back to our quarters in the eastern wing, our footsteps heavy with exhaustion and the weight of the evening's events. The chandeliers' glow, the clink of goblets, and the flavors of honey-glazed quail and gold-dusted pastries danced in my mind, a world of extravagance that made Scorchvale Ridge's dens feel like distant memories. The air in the corridor was cooler now, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers from the castle gardens, but our elemental gowns—crimson flames for Flame Fang, swirling blues for Aero Claw, earthy greens for Terra Fang, flowing teals for Aqua Paw—shimmered under the flickering torchlight. I, Ember, felt the pendant warm against my chest, its pulse a quiet reminder of secrets I guarded, stirred by the night's tensions and Haven's fleeting gaze.
Vera led the procession, her gray wool dress and silver wolf pin stark against our vibrant attire. Her sharp eyes scanned us as we reached the chamber doors, her braid swinging as she turned to address us. "You've survived your first night," she said, her voice crisp but tinged with approval. "Tomorrow, you begin training in the shifting arts at dawn in the courtyard. You'll demonstrate your pack's elemental gifts—fire, wind, earth, water—under the Alpha Sovereigns' watch. Rest well, for the prince will observe closely. Your performance could sway his choice." Her gaze lingered on the five who had dined at the royal table—myself, Aria, Riven, Liora, Sable—before adding, "Sleep now. No wandering." As she departed, her glance at me held a fleeting grace, like a cat's silent step, stirring a question in my mind. Did she see beyond my fire, to the shadow within?
The chambers were a haven of comfort, with fur-draped beds, velvet curtains drawn against the moonlight, and crystal vases of glowing flowers casting soft light across the room. The scent of lavender lingered, mingling with the faint musk of our nervous energy. Exhaustion weighed on us, our bodies sinking into cushions and rugs, but the night's events sparked a flurry of chatter that banished sleep. The fifteen girls who had dined at the court tables clustered together, their voices a mix of awe and envy as they recounted their experiences, peppering the royal table five with questions. As I settled on a cushioned bench by the window, a faint breeze stirred the velvet curtain, unbidden, its whisper not from the sealed windows. My pendant warmed, a warning I buried, my heart racing with a question—was something more awakening within me?
Mira flopped onto a bed, her crimson gown rumpled, her eyes wide. "I sat with an Aero Claw advisor—his wind tricks made my napkin dance! But tell me, Sable, Ember—how was the king's table? Was Prince Haven as fierce up close?" Lira leaned forward, her garnet necklace glinting. "Did you taste the gold on those pastries? The court table's food was grand, but nothing like yours!" Sara sat cross-legged on a rug, her shy voice barely rising. "I was at a table with Aqua Paw nobles—they kept making the water in my goblet swirl. It was… unnerving. Did the queen speak to you, Ember?" The other girls nodded eagerly, their eyes darting to us, hungry for details. A basin of water in the corner rippled faintly, its surface trembling as if touched by an unseen tide. I blinked, my pendant hot, but no one noticed, and I pushed the sensation down.
Aria lounged on a velvet chaise, tossing her blonde hair, her blue silks pristine. "The royal table was divine," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Queen Evelyn and I spoke of court dances—she practically invited me to lead one. Her affinity for my winds is clear; she sees a queen in me. The food? Exquisite. Those venison medallions melted like nothing I've tasted." She paused, her eyes flicking to Sara, a mean glint surfacing. "Not that you'd know, little weaver, stuck with swirling water and court scraps." Sara flushed, her fingers twisting her lace hem, the barb hitting its mark. Aria's confidence came from the northern tundra, where her father taught her to bend gales through cliffside dens, honing her ambition to soar above others, a grace Evelyn clearly favored.
I shot Aria a look, my cunning stirring, Kadyn's words—"You're pack, Em"—urging me to protect my own. "The court tables sound just as lively, Sara," I said, my voice smooth and diplomatic. "Water that swirls on its own? That's a gift worth admiring—imagine weaving with such fluidity." My words redirected the focus, praising Sara while undermining Aria's condescension. Sara offered a grateful smile, her confidence bolstered. My thoughts drifted to Scorchvale Ridge, to my mother, Seina, whose healing hands had tended the pack's wounds. Her legacy was my strength, but a whisper of loss lingered, as if her light had faded too soon, a sacrifice I couldn't yet name.
Sable chuckled, sprawled on a rug, her slit gown revealing a flash of leg. "Ember's right. The royal table was fancy—those quail stuffed with chestnuts? Unreal. But I was watching the king talk battle with Riven, not swooning over Haven like some." She grinned, nudging Liora, who smirked back, her pearls glinting. "I nearly dropped my fork," Liora admitted, "but Ember saved me from Aria's claws." Her tone held a hint of gratitude, her resilience shaped by the volcanic ridges where her mother taught her to draw healing waters from hidden springs, a skill that steadied her despite Aria's barbs.
Riven nodded, her green velvet gown unmoving. "King Thorne asked about earth tactics—wanted details on border defense. I think he liked my answers. But Ember… she caught his eye when she stood up for you, Liora. Her blunt honesty drew nods, her strength rooted in the misty valleys, grounding her in endurance that hinted at a deeper bond, unspoken but steady. The court table girls murmured, one describing a courtier cooling wine with a breeze, another a noble shifting wood grain like vines, their tales of the United Packs' diversity sparking awe.
Liora leaned forward, her teal gown shimmering. "The Aqua Paw nobles at my table shaped water into wolf forms—small, but alive. But the royal table… tell us more, Sable." Sable grinned, recounting the quail's richness, her fiery spirit forged in Scorchvale Ridge sparring with Kadyn, where she learned to tame flame, a boldness that rivaled Aria's charm.
As the chatter wound down, I lingered by the window, the moonlight catching my amber beads, my thoughts on Haven's gaze at the feast intriguing, yet shadowed when I spoke of Kadyn. Why had his eyes darkened? The pendant pulsed, a reminder of secrets stirring—fire, and something more. A court girl whispered a tale of Scorchvale Ridge, of shadows buried in its past, strength feared and silenced, sending a chill through me. The Old Spirits seemed to whisper back, their presence heavy in the air.
Vera's shadow passed the doorway, her gaze lingering on me, a silent intensity that felt like a thread a secret waiting to unfold. The girls drifted to their beds, exhaustion claiming them, but I remained, my heart racing with Haven's words "Your fire… intrigues" and the weight of secrets, weaving a destiny shadowed by the Old Spirits' gaze.