Sapphira

The timer sounded, and Sapphira jumped up from the sofa to rescue her dinner from the oven. Her cabin was small enough that the smell of roasting sweet potato and spices had been taunting her for 20 minutes.

She slid the wedges onto her plate before settling back in front of the TV. Flicking through a few channels, she put on the latest drama, something about sexy fire-fighting werewolves—anything to take her mind off the coming week. 

The cabin had been offered to her by the Alpha of the Bridgewater pack after she had begged him to take her in. Alphas were under strict instructions by the King to prevent wolves from going rogue, or they had to offer homes to wolves seeking refuge. The cabin was small and needed work; the sink leaked, and some of the floorboards were coming loose, but it was warm and dry. 

The weeks that she had spent travelling through the kingdom of Venelia to get here had been long, and she had spent many nights huddled under a tree or in someone's barn. It had been the start of autumn when the nights had drawn in, and the rain had started. The further south she went, the worse it became. By the time she arrived at the Bridgewater borders, she was unrecognisable.

Alpha Kai had agreed not to ask why a rogue female needed sanctuary with him, and she had mainly kept to herself since then, only participating in mandatory events. Like the Mating Ball.

She sighed.

But her 18th birthday was tomorrow, and as the last in her school year to come of age, the Mating Ball was a way for local packs to gather and find their mates. A process that she was dreading. 

No one knew of her past, and she had managed to avoid telling her few friends anything about herself that could put her new life at risk. The Mating Ball threatened to jeopardise everything that she had built for herself. If anyone found out that her father was the King, they would instantly hand her over for the cash reward.

However, it seemed unlikely that her mate would be in some tiny pack at the other end of the country. It was part of the reason she had come here. Usually, mates were of similar ranking, so avoiding her father's court and other larger packs seemed like the easiest way to stay hidden forever. Even if the thought of finding her mate was 

These thoughts did nothing to ease the growing pit in her stomach.

She finished the last few mouthfuls of her food as the show she hadn't watched ended and dumped her plate in the sink. Heading to the bathroom, she grabbed her hair dye and an old t-shirt. 

She had been dyeing her hair ever since she had left her family. Her natural flaming red hair and deep blue eyes would give her identity away--they were traits that only the royal family had. But with dark brown hair, she could pass as a southerner. 

If her father and older brother, Leon, could see her now, she wasn't sure they would recognise her anyway. She had spent a little over four years with the Bridgewater pack, and time had changed her childish features into that of a woman. She wore her hair shorter now, and her father's high cheekbones and rounded nose made her look younger than she truly was. She was a late bloomer and still had long thin legs and no curves. This was likely why most males steered clear; they weren't interested in someone who looked like a stick insect. Keeping herself thin also had the benefit of disguising her brutal strength.

The royal family had the strongest bloodline and, therefore, the most powerful wolves. It was why her father tried to marry her off to a courtier; to dilute her power and reduce the risk to Leon's rule. Only, she had run away.

Her mother had died giving birth to her, and she had never seen pictures of her. Her father wiped all evidence of her from the palace, and it was forbidden to talk about her. Consequently, she knew almost nothing about her mother. Did she have brown hair and blue eyes, or blonde hair with brown eyes? Was she tall or short? So many versions of her mother existed in her mind. 

All she knew was her name: Tarsa.

She finished applying the brown herb paste to her hair and coiled it into a bun on the top of her head, wrapping the t-shirt over the top. Climbing between the sheets of her tiny bed, she fell into a restless sleep.