Sadie
I could have been offended by Amanda’s words, but she was right, and my heart sparked with hope as I cast my eyes around the ballroom.
The scene laid out before us was the opposite of all the socials I’d attended back in St. Ailbe. There, three she-wolves to every male had been the norm, and eligible guys never bothered to talk to me.
I was the strange dark girl with the even stranger mother. And everyone agreed that we “smelled funny.” Not bad necessarily, as wolves don’t distinguish between good and bad smells.
My deeply religious mother didn’t care that the few St. Ailbe male wolves seemed to be repulsed by us, though. She’d taken refuge in St. Ailbe after what she called a “deeply sinful lapse of judgment” that led to her becoming pregnant outside of marriage.
She was adamantly against “unnecessary relations” and was glad none of the St. Ailbe men ever “bothered her.”
A small house had been given to us after my mother sought refuge in the village with a newborn pup and no mate to be seen, and we kept to ourselves.
No one was ever allowed into our abode—not even my best friend, Naomi.
And my mother took the strictest stance possible on most subjects, including nudity.
Every full moon, we didn’t just change in separate cages but also in separate rooms.
If it had been up to her, I would have lived out the rest of my life as Sadie Schaduw, that weird refugee wolf who didn’t even have a real last name.
Everyone in our village was shocked when I opted to travel to Scotland for the Bridal Exchange. They’d all gotten used to thinking of me as the hulking shadow who followed Naomi Hamilton around wherever she went as opposed to a real three-dimensional person with feelings of her own.
No one other than Naomi even asked me if I wanted to sign up for the mate-matching program. Even though I was only 23, everyone else just assumed I’d choose to stay in Ontario to live out the rest of my days as a spinster beside my mother.
But now, here I was in Scotland … in a room filled with male wolves. Talking to Amanda Smucker, a she-wolf who wouldn’t have even bothered to say guter daag to me back in St. Ailbe.
With her cornflower blue eyes and corn-silk yellow hair, Amanda’s looks seemed pre-ordained by God Himself to match perfectly with the blue in our dresses.
People had also been surprised when she showed up at the shuttle to transport us to the airport for the bridal exchange.
She’d been one of the few she-wolves who would have actually had her pick of guys to marry back in St. Ailbe.
Maybe that was why her voice sounded so light and breezy as our St. Ailbe group made our way through the ballroom. She didn’t have much to lose if things didn’t work out for her here in Faoiltiarn. Amanda could always go back to Ontario.
But this was my one and only chance to make a life for myself that my mother hadn’t chosen when she signed us up to become part of a Wolfennite pack.
I hadn’t even told her I was leaving until a few minutes before the driver came to get us. And even then, it had been a scene.
She’d screamed at me exactly as I feared she would, calling me an ungrateful and godless slut for not telling her. Naomi’s father, Danso, and another male had to hold her back from rushing up the vehicle steps to pull me out of the shuttle.
Even as the chartered vehicle pulled away, she’d continued to spew hateful words at me.
This was why I’d only told my best friend about my desire to take part in the Bridal Exchange program. And why Naomi had slipped my passport and ticket request in with hers at the very last moment to ensure no one would tip off my mother.
Otherwise, I risked a repeat of the schooling incident.
Seven years ago, when I reached the wolf-mating age of 16, I’d mentioned maybe applying for classes at the local college to continue my education.
A perfectly reasonable decision, I thought.
Abel Flosswulf wasn’t exactly throwing wolf-mating matches my large, odd-smelling way, and I couldn’t think of any other way to increase my prospects.
However, I ended up majorly regretting my dutiful need to talk to my mother before making any major life decisions … while locked in my changing cage for over a month.
So no trying to talk to my mother beforehand this time. I’d done what I had to do to give myself opportunities in life that living under her paw would never afford me.
And that was how I came to be in the group of potential St. Ailbe Brides walking into the royal ballroom that fateful night.
First things first, we shuffled toward the back wall of the large space and firmly rooted ourselves behind where the King and Queen stood for their receiving line.
This was the perfect place to be seen but not asked to dance.
Dancing was strictly against the St. Ailbe Ordnung, and though we weren’t in St. Ailbe anymore, we’d pledged to strictly uphold our values while away from the ever-watchful eyes of our village elders.
“Oh, there’s Gavin and Malcolm!” Amanda exclaimed happily beside me. She waved at two wolves standing near the front of the receiving line.
I had no idea which one was Gavin and which one was Malcolm.
They both wore kilts with a tie tucked underneath their finely knit vests, but one sported shaggy blond hair and the other glossy brown locks that fell almost to his shoulders.
In a town filled with what the Scots called “braw” male wolves, they were exceptionally handsome, I noted.
And despite their different hairstyles, they had the look of long-time best friends.
“I’m still trying to decide which one I’ll marry,” Amanda whispered confidentially to the rest of us. “At this point, it’s probably a matter of which one of them would be willing to move with me back to St. Ailbe.”
I clamped my lips. Returning to Canada might have been an option for Amanda and the others. Not me, though.
I recalled the incensed expression on my mother’s face as the shuttle pulled away with a shiver as my heart drummed in desperate syncopation with the secular music playing overhead.
No, I couldn’t go back there. Not ever. I had to make this work.
“Why are they not waving back?” Amanda asked beside me, her voice taking on an uncertain note when the two males didn’t respond to her hand motion.
“They are probably too eager to speak with Magnus and Tara,” another St. Ailbe she-wolf assured her in Wolfennite German. “You saw the Royal Grand March. These wolves take their traditions very seriously. That is a good thing if you want your father to accept a Faoiltiarn male into our pack.”
“You are right.” Amanda’s uncharacteristic moment of self-doubt passed like a summer rain as Malcolm and Gavin stepped up to have their turn to talk with the king and queen. “Thank you for reminding me of that, Priscilla.”
However, shortly after congratulating their king and queen, the wolf with glossy brown hair loudly asked, “And where’s this sister of yours? We talked with the other wolves and turns out none of us got a letter from her. But she’s the prettiest of them all, and now we cannae find her anywhere.”
An audible gasp went up from a few members of our group, but I wasn’t surprised at all.
Tara’s sister, my best friend, Naomi, was preternaturally gorgeous.
She’d also been dead set against taking a husband ever since her oldest sister was abruptly taken away within twelve hours of being wolf-mated and her other sister, Tara, practically had to run away from our pack to avoid the same fate.
Back in St. Ailbe, Naomi’s quarrelsome reputation had kept males from approaching her.
But that didn’t make her any less alluring.
I almost felt sorry for Amanda. She’d probably never considered how she’d rank in a group made up of outsider males who didn’t know that Naomi was vehemently anti-marriage.
“Oh, yeah, sorry …” Tara’s best friend Milly, who was standing to the queen’s right like a lady-in-waiting, answered on Naomi’s behalf. “She volunteered to take care of our daughter during the reception, so she won’t be coming,”
Both Gavin and Malcolm looked grievously disappointed.
“And why would she go an’ do that?” the shaggy blond demanded. “What’s the point of her coming if she’s not even going to meet with us? She’s wasting our time and the kingdom’s money!”
“I suggest you think of her as more of a chaperone,” Magnus advised.
I couldn’t see the expression on his face, but his voice had considerably hardened from the jolly tone he’d taken with most of their well-wishers.
“And if I were you lads, I’d focus more on connecting with the she-wolves than ranking them.
Or else you’ll end up wasting everyone’s time. ”
Thoroughly chastised, Gavin and Malcolm shuffled away. Not once sparing a glance in Amanda’s direction.
An uncomfortable stillness fell over the group of potential brides. No one dared to talk—or look at Amanda.
Meanwhile, my heart sank. If Amanda couldn’t get either of the wolves she wanted to look her way, what chance did I have?
I was an overly tall dark thing—not lovely and captivating like Naomi. And unlike Amanda, who’d taken to flirting like a baby beaver to damming, I wasn’t charming. We’d been in Faoiltiarn for nearly two weeks now, and I’d barely managed to say more than two words to anyone of the opposite gender.
“Are you in good order?” Priscilla finally asked Amanda with a pitying tone.
Instead of answering her friend, Amanda said, “Oh, look, there’s that one wolf who’s always glowering at us as if we are criminals. Perhaps you can tame him, Sadie Schaduw!”
That was all the warning I got before I was shoved directly in the path of Alban Scotswolf, a huge beast of a male who everyone referred to as The Kingdom Defender.
He almost looked as out-of-place here as me, I noted. Unlike the rest of the males, he wore a simple black t-shirt with his kilt. Not a formal vest or suit jacket.