The next day marked the fourth trial—The Stage of Selection. This was the moment of truth, where I would find out if anyone had chosen me or if I would be cast aside like an unwanted trinket.
Not that I had high expectations.
Lilah, my ever-enthusiastic maid, had chattered all morning about how the men could still change their minds until the second trial. "It's their right," she had said, as if that made it any less ridiculous.
So, not only was I being judged today, but there was also no certainty to the results. A woman could be selected and then swapped out for someone deemed more suitable. What a lovely way to remind us of our place.
I sighed as Lilah fussed over my gown.
"Gold suits you," she chirped, fastening the last pin in my hair. "If they don't pick you, it's their loss."
I snorted, not bothering to hide my skepticism. "Men don't pick based on appearance alone. If that were the case, half of these women wouldn't be here. They pick based on convenience and politics."
Lilah huffed, stepping back to admire her work. "Well, at least you'll look good making them regret their choices."
My lips twitched despite my growing irritation. If nothing else, I appreciated her loyalty. Even if it was misplaced optimism.
Patron Alric had warned me to be on my best behavior today. As if I was the problem. As if I was a walking disaster waiting to unfold. At this point, the condescension was getting old, but I held my tongue. He meant well, but meaning well didn't make his words any less stifling.
We left in the afternoon.
Once again, I was seated next to Lady Yvette, who had returned to her usual poised and graceful self. A relief, considering Lady Freida was as insufferable as ever. Before we even stepped into the carriage, she had caused a scene about having to share space with me.
So, they put her in another one.
Small victories.
The streets outside were bustling. Curious eyes peered into our carriages as we passed, as if we were exotic creatures on display. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible. Everyone wanted to see the spectacle of selection.
When we arrived at the grand hall, we lined up just as we had before. Our patron led us inside, and we took our designated seats. Unlike the previous trial, the men were present in the hall with us this time, sitting across the room.
A flicker of movement drew my attention upward.
That same auburn-haired man from before. Blue eyes sharp, expression annoyed, perched on the balcony above like he was forced to be here. An Ascended, clearly. Powerful. Dangerous. He made no effort to hide his boredom, but something about him made my instincts scream.
Then, from the veiled section, Duke Callum entered.
Unlike the auburn-haired stranger, Callum was all politeness and ease, greeting the room with a practiced grace before taking his seat. He didn't so much as glance to the side, his gaze locked forward with the composure of someone utterly in control.
The hall filled quickly, and soon, the host from the previous trials took the stage.
"Welcome to the Fourth Trial," she announced, voice smooth and commanding. "Today, we take the next step in selection."
Pleasantries followed. A speech about duty and honor. A reminder of the importance of this process. And then, finally, instructions.
Each man would write a name on a slip of parchment, signifying their interest, and drop it into a glass box. If a man belonged to a pack, the pack name would be included. If he stood alone, his clan name would be written.
One by one, they submitted their choices.
When they were finished, the host collected the chits from the balconies as well, adding them to the mix.
Then came the waiting.
"We will take a short break while the results are processed," the host declared. "Each woman will receive a sealed letter containing the name of the man or men who have expressed interest in her. These names are confidential. No one is to disclose their results, not even to their patron."
Discretion, supposedly, prevented sabotage. Though I had my doubts.
When my letter arrived, I hesitated before opening it. I had prepared myself for nothing—for an empty parchment, for rejection.
Instead, there was one name.
Duke Callum.
I blinked. Then blinked again.
Of all the possibilities, he had not been one I considered.
A location was listed at the bottom of the card: Room 112.
I was expected to meet him. Privately.
Steeling myself, I made my way through the winding halls, stopping at the designated door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked.
"Come in."
His voice was smooth, effortlessly composed.
I stepped inside, finding him leaning against the ornate desk. He was still dressed impeccably, not a strand of his silver-streaked hair out of place.
"Interesting," he mused, watching me with something that wasn't quite amusement, but close.
"What is?" I asked, crossing my arms.
His lips twitched. "You. I expected more dramatics."
I scoffed. "Disappointed?"
He tilted his head. "Not yet."
My fingers curled against my arms. "Why me?" I asked bluntly.
He chuckled. "You were less annoying than the others."
I exhaled sharply, a humorless laugh escaping. "Charming."
He shrugged. "I'm not here to charm you. I made my choice. We'll meet again. Tomorrow, same time."
With that, he turned away, dismissing me without another word.
I clenched my jaw and left.
Back in the ballroom, I sank into my seat, reaching for the nearest dessert. I didn't even care what it was. The stress made me crave something sweet, something indulgent to counteract the absurdity of this entire day.
As I bit into the pastry, my gaze drifted.
Straight into the piercing blue eyes of the auburn-haired man above.
He was watching me.
Not idly. Not with disinterest. But with something that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end.
The corner of his mouth curled into something wicked.
I looked away.
Forcing myself to stay composed, I rose from my seat, slipping away from the ballroom. My feet carried me outside, past the grand halls and out into the courtyard, where the pond shimmered under the moonlight.
The air was cooler here. Calmer.
No guards were stationed by the door. Odd. But I wasn't about to complain.
I found a bench by the water, exhaling deeply.
"Did no one tell you that an unattended lady shouldn't be wandering alone like this?"
The voice sent a shiver down my spine.
I turned sharply.
And met those same piercing blue eyes from the balcony.
My breath caught.
He stood just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, a slow, dangerous smile curving his lips.