The Scentless Disgrace (1)

They made her kneel on the coldest stone in the hall, the one worn smooth by a century of supplicants, and Riana knew before her father spoke that she was not here to be saved.

Dawn light filtered through the high windows of the Sunstone Pack council chamber, turning the air the color of old honey. Twenty elders lined the curved benches, their ceremonial robes heavy with embroidered pack symbols, their faces carefully blank. Not one looked at her. She might have been a stain on the floor, something shameful that required acknowledgment only through its removal.

Alpha Valerius stood at the high podium, his hands gripping the carved wolf heads at either side. Even from her position on the floor, Riana could see the theatrical set of his shoulders, the practiced weight in his voice when he finally spoke.

"The Frost-Blood Dominion has made their terms clear." His words echoed off stone walls built to amplify Alpha commands. "One bride. In exchange, our territories remain autonomous under their protection."

The council members shifted in their seats. Their scents filled the room—earth and leather, rain-soaked leaves, the sharp tang of fear poorly masked. No one questioned which bride he meant. There had only ever been one choice.

"My daughter." Valerius's voice dropped into something that almost sounded like regret. Almost. "Riana. The one the Moon Goddess saw fit to curse with emptiness."

Scentless. He didn't say the word, but it hung in the air anyway, heavy as smoke.

Riana kept her eyes on the floor, counting the cracks in the stone. Seventeen from the podium to where she knelt. She'd counted them before during other humiliations, other ceremonies where her absence of scent had been displayed like an open wound. The counting helped. Numbers had a pattern. Numbers didn't lie.

"This is our solution." Valerius continued, warming to his audience now. "The Terror Triad requires a bride to formalize the territorial treaty. We give them our... sacrifice. Our necessary burden."

In the family gallery above, Corinne's honey-scent bloomed thick and sweet, rolling down into the chamber like perfume. Riana didn't need to look up to know her sister was gripping the railing, her perfect face arranged in perfect sympathy. The scent told the truth her expression would hide—Corinne was furious.

An elder in the front row cleared his throat, the sound wet and uncertain. "The contract terms?"

"Already agreed." Valerius gestured, and a servant approached with a silver tray. On it lay a document bound in black leather, three signatures already dried in ink so dark it looked like dried blood. "The Kaelen brothers have signed. We need only add our mark."

The Kaelen brothers. The Terror Triad. Riana had heard the whispers from servants, the rumors that filtered south from the frozen territories. Three Alphas who shared everything—power, territory, prey. They ruled the North like a three-headed wolf, and their reputation was written in the bones of conquered packs.

Valerius descended from the podium, his steps measured and ceremonial. He drew a silver blade from his belt and cut his palm without hesitation. His blood welled dark red, and he pressed his hand to the contract, signing in fluid Alpha script.

Then he turned to her.

"Come."

Riana rose on numb legs and approached. The elders' eyes slid away from her like water off stone. Even now, they couldn't bear to look directly at the shame she represented.