Chapter 3: The Alpha's Scent

The great hall of Silverwood Castle had been transformed into something that resembled a medieval tournament ground crossed with a diplomatic summit. Banners representing each suitor's realm hung from the vaulted ceiling, their magical threads shimmering with otherworldly light. The scent of enchanted roses—her mother's touch—couldn't quite mask the underlying tension that crackled through the air like electricity before a storm.

Hazel stood at the top of the grand staircase, her hands gripping the marble balustrade as she surveyed the scene below. Three distinct groups had claimed different sections of the hall, each suitor surrounded by their retinue. The political implications were staggering—she was looking at representatives of three of the most powerful supernatural factions in existence, all gathered under one roof to compete for her hand.

"Breathe, Princess." Leon's voice came from directly behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath against her ear. "They can sense fear."

She didn't turn around. "Is that your professional advice, Professor? Or are you speaking from experience?"

"Both." His hand ghosted across her waist, a touch so brief it might have been accidental. To anyone watching, it would look like a tutor steadying his student. Only she would feel the possessive pressure of his fingers. "Remember what I taught you about projecting confidence."

Before she could respond, her father's voice boomed across the hall. "My lords, welcome to Silverwood. May I present my daughter, Princess Hazel."

This was it. The moment her life officially ceased to be her own. Hazel descended the staircase with the grace drilled into her since childhood, her chin high, her expression carefully neutral. She'd chosen her gown deliberately—a deep emerald silk that complemented her hazel eyes and showed enough of her figure to be appealing without being inappropriate. If she was going to be paraded like a prize, she'd at least look like one worth winning.

The first thing that struck her was how different they were from each other. Her mother's descriptions hadn't done justice to the sheer presence each man commanded.

The werewolf was exactly what she'd expected and nothing like she'd prepared for. Alpha Kael stood with his pack members near the eastern windows, and even from across the room, his raw magnetism was undeniable. He was tall and powerfully built, his sun-streaked brown hair slightly unkempt in a way that suggested he spent more time outdoors than in courts. When their eyes met—his a striking amber that seemed to glow with inner fire—she felt a jolt of recognition. Not romantic, but something deeper. He saw her, not just the princess facade.

Lord Elian was ethereal beauty personified, holding court near the magical fountain with an ease that spoke of centuries navigating political waters. His silver hair caught the light like spun moonbeams, and when he smiled at her, she felt a strange tugging sensation in her mind, as if he were trying to peer into her thoughts. She reinforced her mental shields quickly—Leon had taught her well.

Duke Caspian stood apart from the others, positioned near the ancient tapestries as if he were studying them rather than participating in the social gathering. His pale, aristocratic features were striking against his dark hair, and when his crimson eyes briefly met hers, she felt assessed and catalogued with clinical precision. He wasn't looking at her like a potential bride—he was looking at her like a puzzle to be solved.

"Gentlemen," King Edmund announced, "the Royal Trials officially begin tomorrow at dawn. Tonight, we feast in your honor and allow you to become acquainted with our court."

What followed was the most surreal dinner party of Hazel's life. She was seated at the high table between her parents, with Leon positioned nearby as the official overseer. The three suitors occupied places of honor, each trying to catch her attention through different methods.

Kael's approach was refreshingly direct. During the second course, he caught her eye and gestured toward the terrace doors. The message was clear—he wanted to speak with her privately. After an appropriate interval, Hazel excused herself and slipped outside.

The castle's main terrace overlooked what had once been sprawling gardens. Now, the roses were fading, their colors muted as the realm's magic weakened. It was a reminder of why she was here, why this mattered more than her personal desires.

"You don't want to be here." Kael's voice came from the shadows near the stone balustrade. He emerged into the moonlight, and up close, his presence was even more overwhelming. He moved with the fluid grace of a predator, every step deliberate and controlled.

"Is that a question or an observation?" She moved to join him at the railing, maintaining careful distance between them.

"Observation. Your scent gives you away." He turned to face her fully, those amber eyes studying her with uncomfortable intensity. "Fear, frustration, anger... and something else. Something that doesn't belong to any of the men in that hall."

Hazel's heart stopped. Werewolves had enhanced senses—she'd known that intellectually, but the reality was far more unsettling. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" He stepped closer, not threateningly, but with the confidence of someone accustomed to getting honest answers. "There's another scent on you, Princess. Male, older, powerful. Someone who's marked you as his."

The blood drained from her face. If Kael could detect Leon's scent on her...

"I can see why he chose you," Kael continued, his voice gentler now. "You're stronger than they think, aren't you? All this proper princess behavior—it's not who you really are."

"You don't know anything about who I really am."

"Maybe not yet. But I'd like to." He leaned against the balustrade, the casual pose at odds with the intensity of his gaze. "I'm not here because I need a political alliance, Princess. My pack is strong, our territory secure. I'm here because I was told about a woman worth fighting for."

The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard. "Told by whom?"

"That's not important. What matters is whether they were right." He straightened, moving closer again. This time, she didn't step back. "Are you worth fighting for, Hazel Silverwood?"

Before she could answer, the terrace doors opened with enough force to rattle the glass. Leon emerged, his expression thunderous, though he quickly schooled it into professional concern.

"Princess, your parents are wondering where you've gone." His golden eyes flicked to Kael, and the temperature on the terrace seemed to drop several degrees. "Alpha Kael, I trust you're finding our hospitality adequate?"

"More than adequate, Professor." Kael's tone was perfectly polite, but Hazel could sense the undercurrents of challenge. Two alpha personalities sizing each other up, and she was caught directly between them.

"Perhaps we should return to the feast," Leon suggested, though it sounded more like an order. "The trials begin early tomorrow, and I'm sure the Alpha needs his rest."

"Actually," Kael said, his eyes never leaving Leon's face, "I was just telling the Princess how interesting I find the scents here at Silverwood. So many... layers... of history in these old stones."

The words were casual, but their meaning was crystal clear. Kael knew about her and Leon. The question was what he intended to do with that information.

Leon's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Indeed. Silverwood has always been a place where... past and present... intermingle in fascinating ways."

"Gentlemen," Hazel interrupted before the situation could escalate further. "Perhaps Alpha Kael is right. We should all get our rest before tomorrow's trials."

Both men turned to look at her, and for a moment, she felt like prey caught between two predators. But she was no helpless deer—she was a princess of Silverwood, daughter of a dying but still proud magical realm.

"Of course, Princess." Leon's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Alpha, if you'll excuse us, I need to brief Princess Hazel on tomorrow's proceedings."

Kael's amber eyes flicked between them, and Hazel could practically see him cataloguing every micro-expression, every subtle interaction. When he smiled, it was all teeth.

"Naturally. Don't let me keep you from your... educational duties... Professor."

The emphasis he placed on 'educational' made Hazel's cheeks burn. Without another word, he sketched a perfectly proper bow and disappeared back into the castle.

"How much does he know?" Leon's voice was deadly quiet.

"I don't know. He said he could scent you on me." Hazel wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the warm evening air. "Can the others—?"

"The Fae relies more on mental intrusion than physical senses, and vampires primarily track blood. But a werewolf..." Leon ran a hand through his hair, his composure finally cracking. "This complicates things."

"Complicates what, exactly?" She turned to face him fully. "What is it you're really doing here, Leon? What's your endgame?"

For a moment, she thought he might actually tell her the truth. His golden eyes searched her face, and she saw something that might have been regret flicker across his features.

"My endgame is making sure you end up with someone who won't destroy you," he said finally. "These men are dangerous, Hazel. More dangerous than your parents realize."

"And you're not?"

The question hung between them like a blade. Leon stepped closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of amber in his golden eyes, close enough to smell the cedar and dark magic that clung to him like cologne.

"I'm the most dangerous of all," he said softly. "Because I'm the only one who truly knows what you're worth."

Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving her alone on the terrace with nothing but questions and the growing certainty that she was in far more danger than she'd realized.

As she finally returned to the feast, Hazel caught Kael's eye across the room. He raised his wine glass in a subtle salute, that knowing smile still playing at his lips. He knew her secret, and tomorrow the trials would begin.

She was no longer just competing against her parents' expectations or her own desires for freedom. She was now caught in a game where every player had hidden motives, and she was beginning to suspect she was both the prize and the pawn.

The only question was whether she could figure out the rules before it was too late.