The Forbidden Wolf King: Kings of Avalier, Book 4(6)

Our fellow pack wolves that were tethered to the sled took off then, and I gripped the bars at the sides to hold on. I was weary, covered in dirt and snow and my lip was bleeding but my brother was right. It would be an advantage to show up to the capital looking like this against those posh city wolves.

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The ride took all day and part of the evening: we had to stick to the communal trails so that we didn’t encroach on any other packs’ land. We only arrived at the gates of Death Mountain well after supper time and my stomach was growling. Cyrus had been informed there would be some kind of welcome dinner and then all competitors would be given accommodations for themselves and their coach. I’d never been to Death Mountain. The city held no appeal for me. In the summer I slept outside in a hammock with Oslo so that we could look up at the stars. And even in the winter I went on long daily walks to keep my muscles lean and to stay tolerant against the cold. People in the city didn’t do that. They were too good for it, the softest of our kind. Their bodies were plumper and had less muscle definition. Food was brought to them on a platter. Fires were made and stoked for them by servants. Yeah, they could afford all the fancy training coaches but how they thought a strong queen would be chosen from this place was beyond me.

I glanced around as we entered the gates to the city. Death Mountain had been half carved out in an effort to mine for gold by early settlers. So when the wolven took over, they built the palace right on the plateau, halfway up the mountain. There was no army that could reach it without us knowing and throwing them to their deaths before they even got close to us.

We passed a small village of homes that were skinny but tall, some only ten feet wide but four stories high. Space was in short supply when building on a mountainside.

I stared at the opulent man-made city and felt the thoughts war inside of me. The wolf part of me thought the large lavish stone castle with sparkling gold inlay was a mockery to our kind. We were animals, we slept on dirt, not silk sheets. But the human part of me saw the desire for such necessities. We did spend half the time in these human bodies and they thrived with such luxuries.

The entire front entrance was packed with tents from travelers that had come in from the outlying cities and villages. We had left the wolf sled at the base of the mountain and hiked up together as a pack of eight, all representing the Mud Flats.

Some wolves came out of their tents to assess the newcomers and I made sure to stare each and every one of them down so that they knew their place.

Submissives quickly looked away while fellow dominants held my gaze for longer.

The smell of campfires and cooking meat hit my nose and my stomach growled.

Cyrus looked to the rest of our pack representatives. “Find a place for our tent and set up camp. I have to register Zara inside.”

They nodded and one of the more dominant females, Sasha, reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Make us proud,” she told me in serious tone.

I nodded, trying not to let her words have an effect on me. Representing the Mud Flat pack in the Queen Trials was a huge honor.

Some would say we were the least likely to belong in a palace. We lived off the land, without running water or toilets, like they had in the city and other large towns. We hunted our food, we didn’t buy it from market stalls. But I would argue that made me the most likely to win a challenge of this kind. I was hardened by life and I fought every day to keep my place of third in a large pack of ambitious wolves.

As Cyrus and I weaved in and out of the tent city on the large grassy lawn of the palace, people stared and pointed at me. Some even held cards in their hands and marked things on them.

I peered closer at the cards as we passed and my stomach tied into knots.

Betting cards. On who would die first. At first glance it looked like over two dozen names.

Cyrus snapped, causing me to pull my attention to his hands and then he started to speak with his fingers.

Are you nervous to see the king? My brother used hand language to speak to me so that others nearby couldn’t understand. One of our packmate’s children was born without hearing, which was extremely rare for a wolf, but Tig couldn’t even hear the wind rustle. We designed the language in the Mud Flat pack so that we could communicate with him. It also proved useful at festivals and events where we didn’t want other packs to hear us with their sensitive ears. In wolf form we could share thoughts, but as humans, this was the best we’d come up with when unable to speak.

No. Why would I be? We were kids when I saw him last. A stupid crush. I moved my fingers quickly and my brother gave me a look that said, ‘I don’t believe you.’ To be honest I wasn’t sure I believed myself.

Just don’t let anything show on your face. I don’t want a weakness exploited by other contestants, he motioned with his fingers.

I nodded once but his words hit me hard.

I wouldn’t be affected by seeing Axil Moon … would I?

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The Royal Moon castle was everything I thought a castle would be. Full of servants and electricity and fancy tapestries and more food than I’d ever seen in my life. Cyrus and I had just checked in with the royal wolven advisors who were making sure we followed the rules during the Queen Trials.

“Enjoy tonight. Tomorrow morning the first trial starts,” one of the king’s advisors said to us.

The advisors were eight in total and descended from a long line of guides to the king. They were easy to spot as they all had shaved heads and wore the red robe that signified their status. Axil was the alpha king, but he did nothing without these men’s input.