{Third Person}

The horn blared louder and longer this time, cutting through every lingering thought and distraction.

Silence followed almost immediately. Then, King Sebastian rose from his seat, his sudden movement commanding abrupt attention.

Then at his signal, an official stepped forward to the centre where all could see him. His voice carried clearly.

"The Hunt shall now begin."

He spoke clearly of the rules without unnecessary embellishment. The boundaries of the hunting grounds. The expectations of conduct. The stakes that accompanied both success and failure.

But more than the words, it was the shift in the werewolves that held Amara’s attention.

She watched closely, picking up the quiet, building intensity that seemed to hum beneath their skin.

Then, one after another, the participating werewolves began to shift.

Bones restructured, forms expanded, and within moments, where men and women once stood, wolves took their place—large, powerful, commanding in a way that made the ground itself feel smaller beneath them.

The atmosphere changed as everything about them became sharper, more dangerous and more real.

Amara’s fingers tightened slightly in her lap as she watched, her gaze fixed, unblinking at their instinct.

She truly understood what it meant to be surrounded by them now.

A few seconds later, the horn sounded once again, and immediately, the wolves rushed ahead. And the moment the last of them disappeared into the thick woods, the tension that had briefly gathered in the air dissolved just as quickly. It was almost seamless.

Servants stepped forward as if they had been waiting for a signal no one else could hear.

Tables were adjusted, wine was poured, and platters of fruits and roasted delicacies were brought out in abundance. The earlier intensity gave way to something far more indulgent.

Music followed. Soft at first, then gradually fuller, as dancers emerged into the open space before the royals and nobles.

Their movements were fluid, controlled, almost hypnotic—an intentional contrast to the wildness that had just vanished into the forest.

Around them, conversations began to bloom.

Nobles leaned toward one another, exchanging comments, laughter, and quiet speculations about the outcome of the Hunt.

Some spoke with confidence, already certain of who would return victorious. Others simply enjoyed the occasion, treating it as nothing more than an opportunity to be seen.

But not everyone moved. At Alexander’s table, stillness remained.

He had not risen, turned or shown the slightest interest in joining any of the surrounding interactions. His posture remained the same—composed, detached, as though the shift in atmosphere had nothing to do with him.

And just as before, no one approached him. Not a single noble dared to interrupt his space.

Amara noticed it. At first, she told herself it didn’t matter, so she focused on the dancers, the music, and the quiet clink of glass and low conversations drifting through the air.

But the longer she sat there, the more aware she became of the silence at her own table. It stretched uncomfortably.

Her fingers lightly traced the edge of her cup as she tried to ignore it, but it lingered, pressing at her thoughts until she could no longer pretend it wasn’t there.

She turned slightly and glanced at Alexander. Then she looked away again, pressing her lips together as she hesitated.

’Enough.’ She exhaled softly. ’If I keep sitting like this, I will suffocate in the silence before the Hunt even ended.’

She straightened slightly, her voice careful when she finally spoke. "Your Highness."

Alexander turned his gaze toward her just enough to acknowledge that she had called his attention.

"Does the royal family not participate in the Hunt?"

The question hung between them for a moment before he replied, "We do."

His tone was even, neither warm nor cold—just factual.

Amara blinked, waiting. When nothing else followed, she hesitated again before asking, "Then... why aren’t you participating?"

This time, his gaze lingered on her for a second longer. There was something unreadable in it. Then he leaned back slightly, his voice calm.

"I choose when I want to."

Amara frowned faintly, not entirely satisfied with that answer. But before she could press further, he added, almost as an afterthought—

"And today is not one of those days."

That was all. He looked away again, effectively ending the conversation.

Amara stared at him for a moment, unsure whether to feel dismissed or simply... answered. Then, a flicker of irritation crossed her face.

’What a cold specie. Doesn’t he feel sick with this awkward silence?’

Her grip tightened slightly on the edge of the table before she exhaled through her nose. ’Fine. If he thinks he can sit here in silence and leave me to stew in it, then he is mistaken.’

She turned to him again, this time with less hesitation. "How long does the Hunt usually last?"

Alexander’s gaze shifted back to her, slow and deliberate. The look he gave her was not harsh, but it carried just enough weight to make her pause.

"Are you daft?" he asked calmly.

Amara stilled, taken aback by his question. Before she could react, he continued, "Did you not pay attention during the announcement earlier?"

That instant, something in her expression fell flat. The little resolve she had gathered to keep the conversation going dissolved almost instantly.

She held his gaze for a brief second longer, then looked away. "I’m sorry," she said quietly.

And that was the end of it. This time, she did not try again. She leaned back into her seat, picking up her cup and taking a small sip, her attention deliberately shifting away from him.

If he wanted silence so badly, then he could have it.

Amara turned her gaze toward the dancers. At least they were trying.

Their movements were graceful, their coordination impressive, and their expressions carefully maintained despite the watchful presence of nobles and royalty.

But what stood out the most to her was something else entirely. None of them came close.

No matter how their choreography flowed across the open space, no matter how wide their formations stretched, there was always a subtle curve, a careful distance maintained around their table.

They avoided Alexander completely.