Friend or Foe?

Valeria stared at the woman stepping out of the freezing room. Her mind struggled to process the familiar face of the woman who would be her neighbor for the entire duration of the Luna Trials.

"I guess that would be me," the woman said, leaning against the doorframe. "Long time no see, Valeria."

"Maeve?" Valeria breathed. She masked her shock with years of royal training, keeping her voice neutral despite the storm of confusion brewing in her chest.

She never expected to see the werebear shifter here. Maeve used to be one of the captive ‘red girls’ trapped inside the infamous harem that Valeria’s brother, King Alaric, had helped dismantle. When Maeve first earned her freedom, she had spoken of nothing but returning to a quiet life and finding her fated mate. Yet here she stood, thousands of miles away in the brutal North, presenting herself as a contender in a ruthless political game where true mates meant nothing.

"Princess Valeria," Maeve replied. Her tone held no warmth. She spoke the title as though they were strangers, brushing aside the bloody history they shared. They had fought side by side just months ago, surviving a battle that should have forged a lifelong bond.

Valeria studied her. Maeve had shed every trace of the victim she once was. The daughter of a white werebear Alpha, she stood tall and commanding. Her long hair had been shorn into a sharp, polished bob that barely brushed her shoulders. She wore a metallic grey dress that mimicked the heavy plating of battle armor, adorned with intricate silver chains draped across her collarbones. She looked like a cold, calculating warrior ready for war.

Valeria understood the unspoken message. Loyalty was a rare currency, and doing a good deed for someone did not guarantee their allegiance. She forced a bright, polite smile onto her face.

"I did not expect to see you here," Valeria said smoothly. "That is a lovely surprise."

"There is no need for that," Maeve interrupted, raising a steady hand to cut off the pleasantries. "I know very well that you did not expect any of this in the first place. But I am not going to apologize for being here. I am doing this for my people. I intend to win this trial, whatever it costs me."

"Be my guest," Valeria said. She offered a casual shrug, projecting total indifference. "All I need from the North is a military alliance. I never wanted to marry that prick of a king in the first place. You are more than welcome to him."

Soren’s hand clamped down hard on Valeria’s forearm. His grip was a silent, urgent warning. Calling the Northern King a prick in the middle of his own fortress was a dangerous game, especially when they had no idea who was listening in the shadows.

"Then we have no problem. Right?" Maeve raised an eyebrow, stepping out of the doorway and brushing past them. She did not bother waiting for an answer. "Do not worry, Valeria. When I become the Luna of the North, I will grant the Sunset Lycan Kingdom its alliance. I can promise you that much."

Valeria exchanged a loaded glance with Soren. In the world of royal politics, a promise delivered so bluntly usually held zero weight.

"Go home, Valeria," Maeve called over her shoulder. "There is nothing for you here."

The werebear shifter turned the corner and vanished down the dark, damp corridor, the heavy thud of her boots fading into the distance. Soren opened his mouth to voice his disbelief, but Valeria immediately pressed a finger to her own lips. The stone walls carried echoes, and her Lycan senses prickled with the feeling that they were not alone.

"Oh, excuse me. I did not mean to eavesdrop."

A soft, sweet voice drifted from the opposite end of the hall. A young woman stepped out from another neglected room, wringing her hands together. She had light blonde hair braided neatly over one shoulder and wore a delicate chiffon midi dress with puffy off-the-shoulder sleeves. She looked fragile, almost painfully out of place in the grim dungeon-like environment of the abandoned tower.

"It can hardly be called eavesdropping considering how tiny this corridor is and how close our doors are," Valeria said. She plastered her trained royal smile back into place, scanning her memory for any clue to the girl's identity.

"I know who you are. You are Valeria Ironcrest, the princess from the Sunset Lycan Kingdom," the blonde girl said, offering an eager, friendly wave. "It is nice to meet you. It looks like we are going to be neighbors for the Trials."

"Yes. Exciting," Valeria said, fighting the urge to grimace.

"I am Thalia Kress," the girl continued, nervously playing with the end of her braid. "I am one of the daughters of Alpha Magnus from the Shadow Mountain pack. We are one of the smaller packs from the South, and as you can imagine..."

Valeria did not need to imagine. She understood exactly why Thalia was exiled to this forgotten corner of the castle. The Southern territories, known as the Austral Republic, lacked any royal bloodlines. Decades ago, during the Crimson Revolution, the Southern royals were slaughtered, forcing the surviving Lycans to flee for their lives. Now, the Republic was governed by a rotating Council of ordinary werewolves who prided themselves on having no monarchy.

To the Northern royals, a bride from the South brought zero political leverage. Thalia possessed no army, no royal lineage, and no influence. Princess Katerina Frostbane had clearly reviewed Thalia’s background and immediately tossed her into the worst accommodation possible, viewing her as entirely useless to King Draven. The Luna Trials were supposed to be based on merit and skill, but the reality of the game was already showing its unfair bias.

"That explains why you got placed in the neglected corner with us," Valeria noted, keeping her tone light.

"Yeah, I figured as much when I found out I was living right next to a white werebear and..." Thalia clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in panic.

"And me," Valeria finished for her, letting out a soft laugh. She was not offended. "My brother and the Northern King are not on the best of terms. I hardly expected a warm welcome."

"Really?" Thalia blurted out, her nervous energy getting the better of her. "I am surprised he did not just marry you right away. Everyone in the South heard that King Draven asked for your hand in marriage multiple times in the past."

Valeria’s smile turned stiff. The clumsy reminder of Draven’s past obsession grated on her nerves, but she maintained her composure. "I suppose he changed his mind." She took a step toward her door, eager to end the conversation. "Anyway, I need to get settled. It was nice meeting you, Thalia."

"Of course!" Thalia stepped back, taking the hint. "I will see you at the dinner tonight?"

"Probably not," Valeria declined smoothly. "It was a long journey. I just want to rest and have some privacy."

"Understood. Then the Welcoming Party tomorrow?"

"Yes. I will be at that one." It was a mandatory event, leaving her no choice.

Valeria offered a final polite wave before turning the heavy iron handle of her door and pushing it open. Thalia seemed sweet, but Valeria knew better than to drop her guard based on a harmless first impression.

Inside the room, Phaedra was already unpacking bags. Valeria took one step into the space and let out a low whistle of disbelief. The accommodation was offensively minimal. A narrow bed, a single wooden desk, a cramped wardrobe, and a tiny adjoined bathroom. The stone floor lacked a rug, and the single window let in a draft of freezing wind. It was a blatant insult to a visiting royal.

"I am going to file an official complaint," Phaedra hissed, her hands planted on her hips. A visible vein pulsed at her temple. The werebird assistant was practically vibrating with rage. "This is outrageous! Your room is exactly the same size as mine and Soren’s! The disrespect is unbelievable!"

"You will do no such thing," Valeria ordered in a sharp whisper.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting her Lycan senses sweep the corners of the small room. She searched for foreign scents, magical wards, or hidden mechanisms. Finding the room seemingly clear, she opened her eyes just as Soren opened his mouth to argue. She held up her hand, slicing it through the air to silence him.

Closing her mind to the physical world, Valeria reached out and established a secure mind-link with her two friends.

*From now on, anything sensitive we need to discuss will only be said through the link,* Valeria’s voice echoed in their minds. *Katerina hates me. This room might be bugged. Everyone will be watching our every step, and I refuse to make any mistakes.*

Soren shut his mouth and offered a grim nod. He dropped down onto the cold stone floor, leaning his back against the wardrobe to let the girls have the single chair and the bed. *You have that look in your eye,* Soren linked back, a smirk pulling at his lips. *You have a plan.*

*I do,* Valeria replied, dropping onto the narrow mattress and stretching her aching legs. *It is obvious that marrying the Northern King is out of the question. After the way his sister treated us, and the fact that he forced me into these Trials, he clearly is not a fan of the idea himself.*

*He is an arrogant prick,* Phaedra growled through the link.

*Yes, but we can use that to our advantage,* Valeria explained, a spark of strategy lighting up her eyes. *If he does not want to marry me, that means when I am done here, I am free. But I cannot just pack my bags and leave. There are two massive problems. First, we still need the military alliance. The threat facing the Sunset Kingdom is too big to handle alone. Second, I need to save my brother’s pride. It cannot look like the Northern King took pity on us and handed over an alliance as an apology for rejecting me.*

Soren rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. *So, where does that leave us? You cannot leave without the alliance confirmed in writing, but you refuse to marry him.*

*That leaves us with only one option,* Valeria announced, her mental tone turning sharp and resolved. *I must win the Luna Trials.*

Phaedra paused her unpacking, turning to stare at Valeria. *But if you win, you become his Luna.*

*No, that is the beauty of their ancient laws,* Valeria linked, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. *According to the Northern rulebook, the victor of the Trials earns the right to claim three wishes from the King.*

Soren’s eyes widened in realization. *And you are going to ask for...*

*Wish number one: the military alliance, secured in writing,* Valeria declared. *Wish number two: my absolute freedom. I will formally reject him in front of his entire court, citing that we are not a compatible match. Wish number three: a vow of eternal friendship between our kingdoms.*

Phaedra snorted out loud, forgetting the mind-link for a second before catching herself. *Do you really think they will honor that? They just dragged you across the continent to humiliate you.*

*They will have no choice,* Valeria linked back, her confidence unwavering. *The Northerners base their entire culture on honor and keeping their word. A vow made by a King upon the conclusion of the Trials is unbreakable by their own ancient magic. We just have to exploit their pride.*

*They have no idea what is coming for them,* Soren chuckled through the link, shaking his head. He rubbed his stomach. *But enough scheming for one second. Why are you skipping dinner? I am starving.*

*I want to keep a low profile tonight. Let the other contenders get comfortable,* Valeria said. She sat up and reached for the thick parchment envelope resting on the small wooden desk. *Besides, we have work to do. The Welcoming Party tomorrow night is not just a party. It is the first elimination event.*

*An elimination? Already?* Phaedra scowled, marching over to the bed to look at the invitation.

Valeria pulled the thick cardstock from the envelope. *Yes. The invitation says it is a masquerade where the contenders will be formally revealed. It is designed to be a spectacle. The King is making a show out of it, and we are going to beat him at his own game.*

Soren leaned forward. *How do you know it is a trap?*

Valeria tapped her manicured fingernail against the elegant cursive writing on the parchment. *Look closely at the ink. The Luna Trials are steeped in centuries of tradition, and every detail is a test of a contender's knowledge of Northern customs. Look at my name at the top.*

Phaedra squinted at the paper. "It is written in red ink."

"Exactly," Valeria murmured out loud, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. "The body of the invitation is written in gold ink. And the King’s signature at the bottom is stamped in blue. This is a hidden dress code."

Soren frowned, inspecting the paper. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Valeria said. "It is an old Northern test to weed out the ignorant. Contenders are only permitted to wear gowns in shades of red, gold, or blue. If a girl shows up tomorrow night wearing green or purple, she will be instantly disqualified for insulting Northern traditions before the King even speaks a word."

Soren let out a low whistle. "Does this guy have nothing better to do than play mind games with ink colors?"

"He did not invent the rule. It has been a trap used by the Northern royals for centuries," Valeria explained. "But it means we have a massive problem. I did not pack my wardrobe by color-coding my dresses. And I do not have a masquerade mask. We need to spend the rest of the day tearing through the trunks. Soren, you will be fine in standard black."

"Shame. My golden tuxedo will have to wait in the closet," Soren joked, standing up to stretch.

"Let us see what we have to work with," Phaedra said, diving into the largest trunk. "If we cannot find a mask that fits the color scheme, I will shift and fly into the nearest town to buy one."

The three of them spent the remainder of the afternoon turning the cramped room upside down. Dresses of silk, velvet, and lace were tossed across the bed as they meticulously separated anything that did not fit the strict red, gold, or blue criteria. They did not leave the room, opting to have Phaedra request a tray of roasted meats and bread to be delivered directly to their door.

By the time night fell over the fortress, they had managed to assemble a stunning outfit that met the hidden requirements. Exhausted, they finally called it a day, agreeing to wake up before dawn to finalize the hair and makeup plans.

Once Soren and Phaedra retreated to their own identical cells down the hall, Valeria was finally left alone. She wanted nothing more than to step into the tiny shower and wash the grime of the long journey from her skin. But deep within her chest, her wolf, Bellona, let out a restless whimper.

The stress of the day, the confinement of the carriage, and the suffocating walls of the stone tower had pushed her Lycan spirit to the edge. Bellona scratched at the back of Valeria's mind, demanding fresh air and the freedom to stretch her four legs. Valeria knew better than to deny her wolf. If she wanted Bellona sharp and cooperative for the trials, she had to grant her a run.

Valeria stripped off her heavy traveling clothes. Craving the feeling of nothing restraining her, she slipped into a thin, shimmering silk robe. She tied the sash loosely around her waist, relying on her burning Lycan body heat to protect her from the biting Northern chill.

Opening her door with a quiet click, she slipped out of the tower. She moved like a shadow through the quiet courtyards, using the darkness to evade the patrolling castle guards. The grounds surrounding the fortress were massive, a sprawling expanse of ancient trees and frosted stone pathways.

Following the sound of trickling water, Valeria navigated deeper into the secluded gardens. She soon found herself standing at the edge of a quiet, pristine inner pond. The water was still, reflecting the glowing silver light of the moon above. Thick bushes and towering pine trees surrounded the water, offering a perfect, hidden sanctuary.

It was the ideal place to shift.

Valeria closed her eyes, letting the crisp, freezing wind bite at her bare legs. She reached down and gripped the silk sash of her robe, pulling the knot loose. The fabric parted, exposing the smooth skin of her chest and stomach to the night air. She rolled her shoulders, preparing to let the bone-breaking transformation take over.

But just as the silk began to slide off her shoulders, a scent hit her nose.

It was sharp. Woodsy. Pine needles mixed with the rich scent of damp earth and a distinctly intoxicating, masculine musk. It was dangerously familiar.

Panic flared in Valeria’s chest. She yanked the edges of her silk robe together, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric tight against her half-naked body. She spun around, her eyes wide as she searched the shadows of the garden.

A figure moved from behind the thick trunk of a massive oak tree.

The ‘gardener’ from the library strolled out into the moonlight. He moved with a lazy, predatory grace, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark trousers. He paused a few feet away, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow over the frosted grass. He looked her up and down, taking in her disheveled hair and the desperate grip she had on her silk robe.

A low, deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, and a smug, knowing smile spread across his lips as he interrupted her private moment.