"Valia! We need more hands!"
Nox's voice cracked through the courtyard like a whip. He staggered under the weight of five stacked heavy boxes, each one wobbling precariously like drunken soldiers.
Valia dropped her broom. Mouth agape, like she could not believe her sight "Nox, why didn't you just make two trips?"
He grunted, arms trembling. "Because, I and my wolf are superficial dogs, so we must keep up appearance, like a challenge" The boxes shifted again. "and possibly a few rounds of death sentences..."
They crashed spectacularly onto the stone path, scattering jars of honey, bolts of cotton, and three unfortunate carrots.
Valia sighed. "Seducing the boxes obviously worked, never seen any so happy to accept your challenge, apparently."
The air around the Tungsten pack's hall buzzed with activity. Flags snapped in the breeze, musicians tuned their harps, and wolves in formal attire argued over flower arrangements. The annual alliance festival with the Seals of Nellings was no small affair.
Today was supposed to be about joy, trade, and unity. If only Valia could stop thinking about last night.
Dreams are supposed to be about a revelation of your future not physical torment and sexual torture. I can't catch a break now, can I?
She hadn't slept since. She'd mopped the hall twice, only to realize she'd mopped the same spot over and over. And now. More boxes.
"Visitors from Nellings will be here any moment!" Nox puffed, rubbing his sore back. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about the Alpha."
Valia stiffened. "I'm thinking about clean floors, thank you very much. And how on earth did Ligon enter this conversation. So ridiculous."
"Uh-huh." Nox winked. "keep telling yourself that"
The Seals of Nellings were… peculiar.
Unlike their name suggested, they weren't soft, sleek creatures of the sea. They were Were-Seals—a race whose beauty existed in violent extremes. The good-looking ones were breathtakingly divine; the less fortunate looked like they'd been sculpted by a distracted god with greasy fingers.
Their abilities were equally odd. They could detect valuable things; gold, secrets, lies, or fear, from miles away. They were traders by habit, predators by nature, and lazy by creation.
They came once a year to Tungsten territory to trade goods and strengthen their alliance. This year marked their sixth alliance anniversary, which they wanted to celebrate as it had been long overdue.
Their leader, Kumie Obooe, arrived with a grin wide enough to shame a crocodile and robes that sparkled like fish scales. His daughter, Demisule, stepped down from the carriage behind him—a vision in rose-pink hair, long lashes, and a dress that looked like it had been sewn for seduction. Her brother Tupill followed, less glamorous, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else.
Trailing them were two famous guards of Nellings; Mix and Juvell, hulking warriors who radiated enough quiet menace to make weak wolves edge backward.
Kumie spread his arms as he entered the gathering "Ah! My friends of Tungsten! May our alliance shine brighter than the moon and last longer than your patience for my jokes!"
Laughter rippled through the courtyard. Awkward, diplomatic laughter, as well as genuine ones.
Ligon couldn't care less as he descended from the dais with a condescending aura. His silver hair caught the sunlight, his eyes sharp as blades. "Welcome, King Kumie. The Tungsten Pack honors the Nellings' friendship."
Valia, at the edge of the crowd, caught her breath. He looked every inch the Alpha. Tall, composed and commanding, she wondered what was going through his mind as his brows furrowed . Her gaze drifted, unwillingly, to the royal visitors, where Demisule, the king's daughter, stood. Smiling at Ligon like she had been trained for this moment all her life. A slow, seductive curve on her lips that glittered like sin.
Valia's jaw tightened.
Pathetic her. Pathetic me.
She muttered a sigh and turned her back to her duties, all the while hoping Demisule fell flat on her face.
****
The music had thinned to murmurs when King Kumie found Ligon by the lantern pool.
"Alpha," Kumie began smoothly, "you hide too well for a host. I almost thought you'd left your own celebration."
Ligon didn't look at him. "A wise host watches before he welcomes."
Kumie's chuckle was soft, "And what do you see, then?"
"A man who smiles too easily," Ligon said.
"Ah," Kumie replied, eyes glinting, "and a wolf who trusts too little. Six years of peace, yet still you bare your teeth. Admirable"
Ligon's gaze cut to him, cold and precise. "I am quiet sure you didn't leave your company to discuss my teeth, old man. Speak."
Kumie inclined his head, pretending humility. "It's time we made our bond stronger. Beyond trade, beyond parchment. My daughter admires you."
Ligon's tone was dry. "From a distance, I hope."
Kumie laughed, all teeth. "Distance can be closed. She's waiting for you, by the archway. Consider it diplomacy… or temptation, if you prefer."
Ligon's tone was smooth, cold. "A route to marriage, you mean."
"I prefer the word, wisdom," Kumie corrected. "My daughter's beauty is simply… the vessel of opportunity."
Ligon faced him fully now, the faintest smile playing at his lips. "You disguise your ambition well, King. An admirable trait too. If you permit me to borrow you words."
Kumie's grin deepened as he tilted his head toward the garden arch again. "Demisule awaits. It would be discourteous not to greet her."
Ligon's jaw flexed. "You play dangerous games, King."
"Only with players worth losing to," Kumie said, bowing slightly. "And you, Alpha, are worth the risk."
Then he left, his laughter floating like smoke, leaving Ligon staring into the lantern-lit dark. Knowing he'd just been maneuvered, he walked towards the garden.