TO SATE AN ALPHA'S FURY

Alaric POV

Alpha Stone finally agreed that the competition should hold. He is playing with fire. It will surely burn him.

I know his pack is struggling. I know he wants our herbs and grains to feed his dying borders. But I am the Alpha of the Blackwood Kingdom. I do not lose.

My ancestors built these walls on the bones of those who underestimated us. I felt the wolf within me pace. It sensed the coming conflict.

I called for Cassian. I told him to send for all the elders and cooks. I wanted everyone to hear the terms of this battle.

This was not just a kitchen match. It was a treaty signed in salt and blood. I stood by the window of the great hall. I watched the servants scurry below.

They were moving benches and clearing the floor. The tension in the palace was a physical weight. It hung in the damp air of the corridors.

Everyone gathered in no time. The great hall was filled to the brim. The air felt hot from the breath of many wolves.

I stood before the throne. I looked at the sea of faces. I saw the northern chefs standing with their arms crossed.

Their leather aprons were worn. Their knives were polished. They looked like soldiers. I saw the elders whispering in the corners. They looked worried. They smelled of old parchment and anxiety.

"A competition will be happening between the Moon Crescent Kingdom and the Blackwood Kingdom." I announced.

My voice echoed off the high stone arches.

"We will be choosing the theme today. The competition will have three rounds. The chefs will have like two or three days to prepare and gather their ingredients."

I looked at Sophie. She was standing near the front. Her presence always calmed the storm in my head.

She looked at me. I saw her take her hand to the side. She was waving three fingers for me to see. Her expression was intense. She made her brow in a way that suggested deep thought.

She is saying I should give them three days to prepare. My mind screamed.

I felt a different kind of relief. I wanted to give her exactly what she needed to win. I wanted her to have every advantage. If she asked for three days. I would give her the sun and the moon to match.

"The competition should have started tomorrow." I said to the crowd.

I adjusted the collar of my tunic.

"But that is not enough time for the chefs to prepare. They have three days to gather their supplies. The competition begins on the third day from the fifteenth hour."

I looked at Alpha Stone to ask if that is fine by him. He nodded slowly. He seemed to have a different kind of confidence today. His mocking smirk was gone. It was replaced by a cold, steady gaze.

He looked like a man who had been promised a win. I wondered what had changed his mind overnight.

"Let us begin with the theme for the competition." I said.

Cassian brought six parchment papers. He moved with the quiet efficiency of a shadow.

He gave me three. He handed the other three to Alpha Stone. I looked at the blank paper. The texture was rough under my fingers.

"Write whatever theme comes to your mind." I told Alpha Stone.

"I will write mine. We will combine them to give the theme for each round."

I began to write. I wanted to challenge the northern chefs. I wanted to see if they could handle something they don't know. I wanted to strip away their normal traditional recipes.

I wrote the word Unknown. I raised my paper up. Alpha Stone did the same. Cassian took the papers. He read them both together. Alpha Stone had written the word Dish.

"The first theme is Unknown Dish." Cassian announced.

I looked at Alpha Stone. He nodded. Then made a smile that looks irritating. It was the smile of a man who held a secret card. I felt a flicker of suspicion.

"The first theme is Unknown Dish." I told the hall.

"This means the chefs from both packs will make a dish that is not known in this time. It must be something original. It must be something unique. Do you all understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Everyone said in unison.

The sound was like a drum hitting the floor.

We took the second parchment paper. I thought about the regions. The north has cold winds and salted meats.

Blackwood has rich soil and forest spices. I wanted to see if they could adapt to our flavors. I wrote down the word Region. Alpha Stone wrote the word Swap.

"The second theme is Regional Swap." Cassian announced.

I explained the rules.

"The Blackwood chefs must prepare a dish owned by the Moon Crescent Pack. The Moon Crescent chefs must prepare a dish owned by the Blackwood Pack. This would test your knowledge of the land. It's a test of cultural intelligence. It was a test of survival."

They all nodded in agreement.

We moved to the third parchment paper. This would be the final round. This would decide the fate of the harvest. I wrote the word Soup. Alpha Stone wrote the word Duck.

"The third theme is Duck Soup." Cassian read.

It sounded simple. But in a competition of this scale, simple is dangerous. There is no place to hide a mistake in a clear broth.

Any impurity would float to the surface. After all the themes were chosen, everyone agreed to the terms.

"Alpha Stone and I will be the judges." I stated.

I kept my voice firm.

"We will score each other's chefs. We will be fair but firm. The result will be final."

I dismissed everyone. The crowd began to leave the hall. The elders filed out first. Their robes dragged on the stone.

The northern chefs walked away with Alpha Stone. They were whispering among themselves. They looked satisfied.

Only Sophie remained. She stood in the center of the hall. She looked small. She looked at me. He eyes wide open. Her face was pale.

When everyone was gone, Sophie walked to me. The sound of her boots on the stone was sharp. It echoed in the now empty hall. I stepped down from the dais to meet her.

"Why did you give us three days to prepare?" Sophie asked.

Her voice was high. She sounded stressed.

"I saw you waving three fingers." I said.

My stomach drop. A cold realizationn spread across my chest.

"I thought you meant three days. I wanted to give you the time you requested."

"No." Sophie said.

She shook her head. She held up her hand again.

"I was trying to tell you that days would not be enough. I was telling you no. I was not giving you a signal for three days. I was trying to stop you from setting a date so soon. I need at least a week of preparation for a competition like this."

I looked at her. The weight of the crown become heavy.

My heart hammered. I misinterpreted her action. I had acted on an assumption. I had made the first mistake.

This was a competition that needed a week of preparation. The northern chefs had arrived with their ingredients already in mind. They were prepared for this reckoning. Sophie was not.

I had given her a deadline that was a death sentence. I looked at her hands. They were trembling. I wanted to reach out and steady them, but I couldn't. Not here. Not with the eyes of the palace always watching from the shadows.

The competition had not yet began. I have had my first failure. Does this signify we would fail?