Estelle’s POV

“There’s no name here,” I said as I placed my name card down at the unassigned seat. “I don’t see a reason why I should be seated so far away from my Beta when this seat hasn’t been assigned to anyone else.”

Caleb looked at me with a mixture of admiration and concern. “Are you sure about this?”

I smoothed down my dress and sat down decisively. “Absolutely.”

The seat was perfectly positioned—right between Zayne’s chair and Caleb’s. If someone had deliberately moved my original placement, then I had every right to correct their mistake.

“Besides,” I added, my voice calm but firm, “pack members should sit together. It’s traditional.”

Caleb nodded and took his assigned seat. The dining room gradually filled with more guests, their conversations creating a gentle hum of background noise. I recognized a few faces from the various packs, but most were strangers.

A server approached our section, pouring wine into crystal glasses. The rich red liquid caught the light from the chandeliers above.

“Thank you,” I said politely as she filled my glass.

“You’re very welcome, Miss,” the server replied with a warm smile before moving on.

I was starting to relax when I heard the sharp click of heels approaching our section. The sound was aggressive, purposeful. I glanced up to see a woman striding toward us with obvious determination.

She had strawberry blonde hair perfectly styled in an elegant updo. Her blue eyes were blazing with indignation. Her dress was clearly expensive—silk and adorned with what looked like real diamonds along the neckline.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice dripping with barely contained fury. “You’re in my seat.”

I looked up at her calmly, taking a sip of my wine before responding. “I’m sorry, but there wasn’t a name card here when I arrived.”

“Well, there should have been.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s my assigned seat.”

I gestured toward the space in front of my place setting. “And as I said, the seat was unassigned, so I took it.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“No,” I replied honestly, my tone remaining perfectly level. “Should I?”

The woman’s face flushed red with anger. Several other guests had started to notice our exchange, turning in their seats to watch the drama unfold.

“I am Rosalind Vurbont,” she announced, her voice rising. “I am the Lycan King’s fiancée.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Caleb leaned closer to me, his voice barely a whisper. “The lycan councils apparently favor her. From what I’ve heard from my father, they wanted Zayne to pick her as his bride, but he refused.”

I kept my expression neutral while processing this information. So that explained her arrogance.

It seemed like it wasn’t an accident that my name card was misplaced after all. It wouldn’t be too far of a stretch for someone to have purposely shifted me to the end of the table once they realized that I was originally intended to sit next to Zayne, all to make way for Rosalind.

I sneered. This whole event was a mere show. It was just a way to make it appear fair and democratic, while the real decision had already been made behind closed doors.

Only, they didn’t realize that Zayne had his own arrangements, something I assumed he had yet to inform his council about. Albeit, I was starting to see the reason why.

“How fascinating,” I said, my voice cool. “Congratulations on your... potential engagement.”

Rosalind’s eyes flashed. “It’s not potential. It’s practically guaranteed. I am the most suitable candidate to marry the Lycan King, not you disgusting, lower-class animals.”

Several werewolves at nearby tables had overheard her comment. I could see their faces darkening with offense.

“Is that so?” I asked, taking another sip of wine. “How thoughtful of the lycan leadership to invite us lower-class animals. I didn’t realize this was an engagement party.”

“Don’t mock me,” Rosalind snapped. “You clearly don’t understand the situation you’ve put yourself in.”

I stood up slowly, meeting her gaze directly. Even in heels, she was slightly shorter than me. “Please, enlighten me.”

“You’re nobody,” she said, her voice growing louder. “A random werewolf whore from some insignificant pack who thinks she can waltz in here and steal the future Lycan Queen’s rightful place.”

The dining room had grown noticeably quieter. More guests were turning to watch our confrontation.

Caleb jerked to his feet, ready to attack for that slight, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“Steal?” I raised an eyebrow. “I simply took an available seat next to my Beta. That’s hardly theft.”

“That seat was meant for me,” Rosalind insisted. “Everyone knows I sit beside the King during formal dinners.”

Caleb cleared his throat, his hands trembling with anger. “With all due respect, Miss Vurbont, as my Luna said, there wasn’t a name card when we arrived.”

Rosalind whirled on him. “And who are you to speak? Just another werewolf Beta who should know his place.”

The insult hung in the air like a slap. I felt my temper flare, but I kept my voice steady.

“That’s my Beta you’re insulting,” I said quietly. “I’d appreciate it if you showed him the respect he deserves.”

“Respect?” Rosalind laughed bitterly. “You werewolves are all the same. So low class. So unaware of proper hierarchy.”

A murmur of discontent rippled through the room. Nearly every guest present was a werewolf, and Rosalind had just insulted them all.

“Low class,” I repeated thoughtfully. “You seem to like throwing that term around. Interesting perspective.”

“It’s not perspective, it’s fact,” Rosalind continued, seemingly oblivious to the growing hostility around her. “Lycans are superior to werewolves in every way. Stronger, more intelligent, and,” her eyes scanned me up and down with distaste, “evidently better breeding.”

An Alpha from one of the nearby tables stood up. “Now wait just a minute—”

“Sit down,” Rosalind commanded without even looking at him. “Adults are speaking.”

The Alpha’s face turned purple with rage, but he remained standing.

I could feel the tension in the room escalating rapidly. Rosalind was making enemies of everyone present except for the few other lycans scattered throughout the dining room.

“You seem very confident in your position,” I observed.

“I have every reason to be,” Rosalind replied. “When King Zayne arrives and sees that some random nobody has stolen his future queen’s seat, you’ll learn exactly what happens to werewolves who overstep their bounds.”

“Oh, this should be interesting,” someone muttered from across the room.

“She’s going to be in so much trouble,” another voice whispered.

I heard fragments of conversation starting up around us.

“—doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into—”

“The Lycan King won’t tolerate disrespect to his bride—”

“—probably get banished from the palace—”

The whispers were growing louder, more animated. Everyone seemed to believe that I was about to face severe consequences for my defiance.