Chapter 9, The Trial of Scents
Seventeen years
Wren
The trek back from the falls was a slow-motion nightmare.
The silence among us wasn’t peaceful; it was heavy, like the air right before a massive thunderstorm.
Selina didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to.
She walked as far away from me as the narrow trail allowed, her shoulders hunched.
She looked at me every few seconds, her face pale and twisted, as if she expected me to transform into a monster right in front of her.
The woods felt different, the familiar scent of pine felt thinner, replaced by the lingering memory of cold cedar and charcoal that seemed to cling to my skin like a second layer of sweat.
Killian walked beside me, but he was a stranger. He didn’t look at me. He moved with stiff, jagged steps, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists. He was radiating a dry, scorching heat, the kind of feverish temperature a wolf gives off right before their first shift.
“Killian,” I whispered, the sound feeling too loud in the stillness.
“Don’t,” he rasped. He didn’t turn his head. His jaw was locked so tight I could see the muscles jumping in his neck. “Just... don’t, Wren.”
“They’re terrified,” I said, glancing back at the others.
Killian finally stopped, turning to face me. His eyes weren’t amber anymore; they were a fractured, glowing silver. The wolf inside him was clawing at the surface, desperate to get out. “They’re not just terrified of the Night-Stalkers. They’re terrified of you.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping so low the others couldn’t hear. “Varg bowed to a girl with no scent. Do you have any idea what that looks like? It looks like an invitation. It looks like you’ve been theirs all along.”
“I was shoved over that line, Killian! You saw it!”
“It doesn’t matter how you got there,” he hissed, his hand snapping out to grab my wrist. His grip was bruising. “It matters that you didn’t die. It matters that he seemed to recognize you.”
Behind us, I heard a sharp intake of breath. Selina was watching us. “Look at them,” she whispered to the others. “He’s already chosen her over the pack. He’s going to let her lead the monsters right to our doors.”
Killian spun around, a low, guttural growl vibrating in his chest. It was a sound that shouldn’t have been possible for a boy who hadn’t shifted yet. Selina flinched, nearly tripping over a root as she backed away.
“We’re moving,” Killian commanded.
We marched until the sun began to rise over the jagged spires of the High-Ridge village.
As the heavy gates creaked open, I saw Alpha Silas and my father standing there.
The moment we stepped inside, the group dissolved.
Selina ran straight to Silas, her voice breaking the morning quiet in a frantic scream.
“Alpha! You have to listen! She’s one of them! The Night-Stalker... he bowed to her!”
Silas’s gaze snapped to me. Killian stepped next to me, anchoring me under his arm in a desperate display of protection.
“Release her,” Silas commanded.
The Alpha Command hit the air like a physical blow.
I felt the pressure of it, a psychic weight meant to make every wolf in the square drop to their knees.
Beside me, Killian’s arm jerked. His muscles locked as he fought the biological urge to obey his father.
He didn’t let go at first, but the sheer force of Silas’s will finally tore his hand from me.
“Arthur,” Silas said, his eyes glowing a lethal amber. “Take your daughter to the High Chamber. I want to know exactly what scent she’s carrying back from that border.”
My father didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my arm, his grip cold and clinical, and began to pull me toward the Great Hall. “Do not lie,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Only speak when you are spoken to. Answer truthfully. It’ll be okay, Wren.”
The room was freezing. Silas sat behind a heavy oak table, while my father stood by the window, his back to me.
“Kneel,” Silas rumbled, using the full authority of his bloodline.
The air in the room thickened into a crushing weight. I felt the pressure on my skin, like a heavy cloak, but my knees didn’t buckle. My spine remained straight. I stayed standing, looking directly at the Alpha.
Silas’s eyes widened in shock. Behind him, I saw my father’s shoulders go rigid. They were seeing the truth: the Alpha Command didn’t work on me.
“You don’t feel it?” Silas whispered, his voice dangerously low. “The Command.” I shook my head, lowered my gaze ashamed.
“Selina says the Night-Stalker scented you,” he continued. “She says you didn’t even run.”
“Selina is the one who pushed me across the border,” I said, looking at my father’s back. “The whole group saw it. I did not run because the three sentinels were right behind me. I wouldn’t have had a chance. Standing still to show no threat was for my own survival.”
“Enough,” Silas snapped. “Come over here. Let me smell you,” He looked at my father. “If I recognize the smell...”
My father turned then, his face pale as he watched the Alpha approach me. Silas leaned in, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the crook of my neck, right where the Night-Stalker’s nose had been. He stayed there for a long time, his breathing heavy.
“I don’t recognize it,” Silas muttered, pulling back. He looked at my father. “Do you, Arthur?”
He shoved me toward my father, who took me gently into his arms. He inhaled deep, his eyes closing as he searched his memory for any trace of the Night-Stalkers he had fought before.
“No, Silas,” my father lied, his voice steady even as his heart hammered against my shoulder. “No one I’ve smelled before.”
The Alpha nodded slowly, though the suspicion didn’t leave his eyes. He walked to the door, his hand on the heavy iron handle.
“Double up the patrols,” Silas ordered. “They are clearly too close to the border for comfort. And as for you, Wren...” He looked at me one last time. “Stay within the village walls. If I find you near that border again, I won’t need a Council to decide your fate.”