The Alpha Prince's Runaway Tribute

Chapter 2: Selected

CAMELLIA'S POV

Theo had not bothered me for days.

Whether he was giving me space to "clear my head" or simply hadn't found an opportunity because I never gave him the chance, I couldn't say.

Part of me was still breaking, and part of me longed to go to him, but I had to hold my ground.

So I kept myself busy.

I spent more time gathering and preparing herbs than I actually needed. I volunteered to help Mother in the infirmary. I sorted supplies, cleaned workspaces, and helped transcribe Father's records. I kept my hands occupied every waking moment.

Anything to keep my mind from wandering.

I also avoided places where I might run into Theo—or where he could corner me alone.

Earlier, I had taken a different route through the forest, heading to another spot where I could gather herbs. It added nearly an hour to my journey.

But it was worth it.

By the time I reached home, the sun had climbed high enough to bathe the clearing around our cottage in warm golden light.

I pushed open the wooden gate and stepped inside.

The familiar scent of wisteria greeted me immediately. Cascades of purple blossoms draped over the trellis Father had built years ago, their sweet fragrance lingering in the morning air.

But another scent soon overtook it.

Sharp mint, bitter willow bark, dried chamomile, and a dozen other herbs mingled together in a blend so familiar I could have identified it with my eyes closed.

Mother was brewing a stronger batch today.

I didn't even bother going inside. Instead, I hurried around to the back of the cottage, my basket bumping against my hip as I went, eager to unload and sort the morning's harvest before any of it began to wilt.

"I'm back," I called as I set my basket on the small worktable in the shed.

Mother was already finishing up. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows as she transferred a glowing amber potion into narrow glass vials and scooped freshly made salve into jars.

"What took you so long?" she asked without looking up.

I busied myself unloading the herbs. "I got held up."

That finally earned me her attention. She turned, planting her hands on her hips, one brow arching in a way that always made me feel twelve years old again.

"By what?" she asked. "Squirrels?"

I bit back a smile because she wasn't entirely wrong.

The squirrels. The chipmunks. The detour through the northern ridge. The extra half hour I'd spent taking the long way home to avoid even the slightest chance of running into Theo.

But I wasn’t about to tell her that. She’d ask questions I didn’t want to answer, and she’d worry in ways she didn't need to.

Mother sighed, a clear sign that she was letting the matter drop. For now.

"Alpha Beron called for me earlier," she said as she packed several vials and jars into her satchel. "I'm heading to the pack house."

That wasn't unusual. Mother was one of the most respected healers in the territory. The Alpha often sought her out whenever his knee flared up—a lingering injury from a poisoned arrow he had taken during an encounter with rogues years ago.

She slung the satchel over her shoulder, then turned her attention back to me.

"You're coming with me," she said. "I could use the extra help."

My heart sank.

So much for avoiding Theo.

Still, there was no way I could refuse Mother. "Of course."

-----

The pack house always made me feel small, no matter how many times I visited.

The massive manor stood atop a gentle rise overlooking Crimson Ridge's central grounds.

Five stories of carved balconies, towering windows, and rose-draped columns made it feel less like a residence and more like a palace. It housed the territory's highest-ranking wolves and served as the heart of power within the pack.

A maid, a young Omega, was already waiting for us at the entrance.

"This way, please."

Mother and I followed her through a series of hallways lined with portraits of past Alphas and hunting trophies mounted generations ago.

Eventually, she led us into the sunroom.

Warm golden light streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens. Exotic flowers filled large ceramic planters, and cushioned furniture was arranged beneath a vaulted glass ceiling.

Alpha Beron lounged on a chaise near the windows, his injured leg stretched out before him.

"Alpha, they're here," the maid announced.

"Ah... Helena. Cammi." His weathered face brightened as he waved us closer.

The maid dipped her head and quietly withdrew from the room. Once we were alone, Alpha Beron sighed. "I'm sorry for the short notice," he said. "The flare-ups are becoming more frequent lately."

He rubbed his knee with a grimace. "Age finally seems determined to collect its debt."

Mother immediately moved to kneel beside him. "Nonsense. You still have many years ahead of you, Alpha."

I set down the tray and began arranging the ointments and salves, lining them up in the order Mother preferred.

Alpha Beron chuckled.

"That may be true, Helena, but I'm ready to retire. Theo's ready to take over once he's married and settled with his chosen mate."

My chest tightened so sharply that I nearly dropped the vial in my hand. It slipped from my fingers and toppled onto the tray with a sharp clink.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, quickly setting it upright.

If Alpha Beron noticed the tremor in my hands, he didn't comment. He simply continued, his voice warm with pride.

"In fact, I've already started assigning him some of my duties. It's time he learned how to lead."

Mother hummed in acknowledgment, massaging a salve into the Alpha’s knee. I focused on grinding dried comfrey leaves, pretending the words didn’t scrape against old wounds.

“I’ve given him a significant task,” Alpha Beron went on. “Theo will be organizing the Rite of Offering in two weeks.”

My stomach twisted.

The Rite—our pack’s shame dressed up as tradition. A ceremony where unmated she-wolves like me were presented before the Alphas of the kingdom, a symbolic atonement for Crimson Ridge’s failure to protect Queen Seraphina and Princess Celestine during the rogue ambush years ago.

The Queen’s body had been found near the pack’s border. The Princess was presumed dead after her blood-soaked clothes were recovered.

And now King Marius—Seraphina’s brother-in-law, the man who had conveniently risen to the throne after his stepbrother King Horace’s mysterious death—had cemented the Rite as law. A reminder of our disgrace.

The annual Offering always left a bad taste in my mouth. Though most she-wolves were eager to be chosen as tributes, hoping some Alpha might take them as mates—or even consorts.

Thankfully, the pack had never considered someone like me worthy of being offered at all. I had come of age two years ago and was never included in the list.

The door swung open so abruptly that even Alpha Beron flinched. The voice that followed sent a jolt straight through me.

“Father, I’ll just head to the—” Theo cut himself off mid-sentence.

I didn’t have to look up to know he’d seen me. His footsteps shifted, angling toward us, and I immediately lowered my head, pretending to rearrange the vials and jars I’d already organized twice. My fingers moved automatically, but my pulse thundered in my ears.

“Actually,” Theo said casually after a beat, “I’ll stay for a while. There are a few matters I wanted to discuss with you anyway.”

Alpha Beron hummed in acknowledgment before, unfortunately, turning his attention to me.

“Cammi,” he said, as though the thought had just occurred to him, “you haven’t found a mate yet?”

I answered too quickly. “No, Alpha.”

Alpha Beron stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Well,” he continued, “I can make arrangements if you’d like. Helena and George have contributed greatly to the pack.”

I could feel Theo’s heavy gaze on me as though he were waiting for something: an explanation, a plea, a crack in my composure. I gave him nothing.

Alpha Beron waved a hand. “It would be no trouble at all to introduce you to a few suitable young wolves in our pack.”

I glanced at Mother. Her expression was unreadable, but her hands paused for the briefest moment over the salve she was applying. Then I turned back to the Alpha.

“I appreciate the offer, Alpha,” I said, keeping my tone polite and steady. “But I’ll be leaving for the capital in a month. Father secured an apprentice position for me at the Citadel.”

Alpha Beron’s face brightened. “Another scholar in the making, then,” he said. “Your parents must be so proud.”

I offered him a polite smile. “I hope so, Alpha.”

Mother chuckled and nodded in agreement.

And then I made the mistake of glancing at Theo. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on me with a sharp glare, as though I’d somehow betrayed him.

But I looked away immediately.

Finally, Mother finished her work with one last sweep of her hand. I moved quickly, gathering the vials and jars and packing them back into the satchel. The moment she rose, I stepped to her side, eager to leave.

We bowed to the Alpha and slipped out of the sunroom without sparing Theo another glance.

As we left the pack house, Mother and I decided to stop by the market.

The square always felt livelier in the late afternoon, filled with chatter, clattering crates, and the warm scent of freshly baked bread drifting between the stalls.

We moved through the crowd, picking up eggs, milk from the dairy boy, and whatever produce looked freshest.

Mother nudged me toward a row of small vendors. “Get yourself something,” she said. “Alpha Beron paid us generously for today’s treatment.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I found a leather-bound journal with thick, cream-colored pages—perfect for cataloging the herbs I discovered in the forest—and then a couple of books: one on medicinal fungi, the other on old kingdom folklore.

By the time we finished, the sun had dipped low.

“We'd better hurry,” I said, adjusting the bags in my arms. “Father must be home by now.”

We picked up our pace, following the familiar path home. But as soon as the cottage came into view, something in the air felt wrong.

Father stood behind the gate, not on the porch where he usually waited with a smile and a wave. He was pacing. His posture was rigid, and even from a distance, I could see the worry etched across his face.

Mother sensed it too. Our eyes met, and without a word, we both quickened our pace.

By the time we reached the gate, Father looked almost pale.

“Cammi,” he breathed.

In his hand was an envelope sealed with crimson wax. The Alpha’s seal.

A cold prickle ran down my spine.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Mother asked.

Father didn't answer. He simply handed her the envelope.

Mother tore it open with trembling fingers. Her eyes raced across the parchment, and the color drained from her face. Her lips trembled before she finally managed to speak.

“There must be some mistake,” she whispered.

My heart slammed against my ribs. “What does it say?”

Mother swallowed hard. When she looked at me, her expression was stricken.

“You...” Her voice nearly broke. “You have been selected as one of the tributes.”