His nostrils flared. Once. Then twice. Slowly, he turned his head, and the corner of his lips curled up.

"That smell of yours...."

He took one step forward. And stood there for seconds.

Elowyn's knees locked.

Baron straightened.

"Cadet Riven Thorney...." Barked one of the instructors from the platform. "....you have thirty seconds. Find your match or step back."

Riven looked like he was about to say something then stopped. Slowly, he moved down one more line instead. Past her. His fingers twitched.

He hadn't chosen her.

But his eyes... they flicked back.

And she knew.

He'd scented something off.

But he wasn't sure. Yet.

Riven Thorney moved on.

Elowyn didn't breathe until he stepped back into the inner circle and gave a single nod to a male from a northern clan.

The instructors clapped once.

"That concludes the scenting by the Gifted. Count your marks. Remember who chose you. Those matches will be watched throughout the semester."

The crowd hummed with pride, whispers of who chose who flying through the air.

But one name echoed the loudest.

"Baron Ortega...." one of the instructors called. "....has been selected by nineteen cadets. Highest tally. The Wolf-Heir carries ⅓ of the crowd's recognition."

Gasps. Applause. Even some bows.

Elowyn stayed still. Her hands felt clammy.

Baron didn't react. He stood with his arms down, unmoved by the attention.

But his eyes - dark, calculating - flicked toward her. Just for a second.

The second part of the class began.

"Now, those newbies who are unable to scent properly...." The bronze-necked instructor barked. ".... form a line to the right. You will be chosen instead. Your bodies may not know how to search, but maybe they know how to be found."

Elowyn joined the line, stomach twisting.

There were at least a hundred and something newbie cadets in the non-scenting group. Most were upcoming Alphas or young Betas - confused, nervous.

She stood still.

The Alphas were instructed to step forward.

"Pick whoever draws your wolf. Do not think. Do not judge. Move."

One by one, the Alphas walked through the line. Hands touching shoulders. Sniffing necks. Murmurs of "mine" spread like wildfire.

Elowyn stared ahead. Silent. Still.

Her flask had drained earlier. Her scent should be bound. But now... now she couldn't even smell herself. Could they?

Could they tell something was off?

Another boy beside her was chosen - cheered, even. One boy bowed when the high-ranking Alpha Caelan Volke squeezed his shoulder with a thumbprint of approval.

And then...

Elowyn was the last one.

Unpicked.

Unclaimed.

Unseen.

The instructors paused. The crowd slowly quieted.

One of the instructors with broad shoulders, looked at her - then at the others.

"No Alpha chose you?"

Elowyn's mouth dried. She shook her head once.

The silence thickened.

"Then, you must be scentless."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Someone coughed, someone else snorted.

"Scentless?"

"Like dead meat-"

"Silence," barked Caelan Volke suddenly, his voice sharp and deadly. "You shame the Pack by mocking what you don't understand."

The crowd froze.

Caelan's eyes locked on Elowyn.

And though his voice saved her, his gaze said something else entirely.

I'm watching you.

Elowyn's fingers curled tightly in her palms.

This was worse than being discovered.

She wasn't found. She was nothing.

She sighed. Shoulders stiff. Eyes burning. Head bowed.

She wouldn't cry. Never!

Her scent might've been hidden... but the shame? That lingered like blood on fresh snow.

The instructors' voices thundered once more, cutting through the fog of curiosity and silence and tension in the scenting arena.

"Gather in groups!" One barked. "Each Alpha, step forward with your chosen cadets. Betas, you know where you belong. Newbies, follow your markers. You've been scented, you've been claimed - stand where your wolf now answers."

Boots shuffled, bodies moved.

Elowyn didn't.

How could she when no one understood her smell.

She stood awkwardly in the middle as the crowd broke into clusters around the stone platform. Twenty-one distinct groups had formed - each built around an Alpha who'd been chosen. Some were as few as thirty. Some as large as forty. Baron, sixty.

Only one stood alone.

Elowyn Froste.

The instructor scanned the groups, then his eyes slid back to her.

"You there. Scentless. Step forward."

Elowyn walked to the center slowly, fists clenched at her side.

The instructor turned to the rest. "Before we close this session, we'll test the instincts of every Alpha once more. All Alphas... will be given the chance to allow this cadet into their grouping."

Elowyn froze.

Wait... what?

Her gaze darted. Some cadets were whispering already. Others staring openly.

The instructor raised his voice. "All Alphas - if you feel a draw, a tolerance, a hint that she could belong to your pack - step forward and nod."

She stood straighter. Not because she wanted to - but because she had to.

One by one, each Alpha was addressed.

And one by one, they shook their heads.

A few looked amused. Others, disinterested.

One Alpha wouldn't stop staring through her. He had long, black hair pinned at the back of his head. Sinister.

Azpen, the cocky young heir from the southern quarters, laughed out loud. "That one? She's barely wolf. My scent nearly left the room just standing next to her." He waved a dismissive hand.

"No." Caelan Volke declared. "Not mine."

"Next."

"No."

"Not a chance."

It hurt. Every. Single. One.

By the time the twentieth Alpha had passed, Elowyn's ears were ringing. Her vision burned - but she still hadn't blinked.

And then came the last name.

"Baron Ortega."

Silence rippled instantly.

All heads turned toward him.

He stood still, arms still folded, eyes unreadable - that same clean aura that demanded attention without begging for it.

Baron said nothing for a while.

Then... he uncrossed his arms and took one step forward.

"I don't sense anything." He said calmly.

Another pause.

"But she doesn't repel me either."

Shockwaves everywhere.

"That counts." One of the instructors said sharply, before anyone could argue. "Neutrality is a form of acceptance."

Baron didn't look at her.

But the damage was already done.

"Group 21 now includes the scentless." the instructor confirmed. "Cadet Elyan Froste will be under the Ortega line."

"Evening assessment bouts will be early today! Assemble!"

And just like that - just like that - Elowyn belonged somewhere.

Or so it was written.

But the sneer that followed from Azpen made her chest twist.

As they all began moving apart to exit the hall, Azpen strutted past her, his hand slapping the back of her head just light enough to look like nothing happened - but hard enough to sting.

"Try walking straighter next time," he muttered under his breath. "And stop drinking all those damn purifying herbs. You reek like a lying corpse."

He walked off laughing.

Elowyn blinked fast. Swallowed harder.

She followed the rest of Group 21.

Head high.

Even if it killed her.

Because this wasn't about scent anymore.

This was about survival.

★★★

★★★

The sun had barely begun to fall when the twenty-one groups were spread out across the Outer Field once again - this time, for the Evening Assessment Bouts.

Elowyn stood at the edge of Group 21, trying to breathe through the raw ache in her legs. She was getting weaker.

"Pair up." The new instructor commanded.

There was five of them on the high podium.

"Test your reflexes. Show what your scent claims mean in combat. Seniors aren't meant to be here but for the sake of the first day, they'll watch."

Elowyn was suddenly shoved forward. Her opponent was a newbie male - tall, sharp-shouldered, eager to prove a point.

It wasn't a fight.

It was a storm.

She was hit. Tossed. Spun. Slapped.

Her knees scraped stone. Her shoulder thudded against the ground. A small whimper escaped her before she could trap it.

Silence bubbled around.

"She's not even trying." someone muttered.

Baron Ortega's gaze lifted from his place, calm yet dark.

Elowyn stumbled up again.

Her hands trembled. Her eyes glistened.

Then, her opponent shoved her down one last time.

"Enough!" a voice barked.

The bout ended. But the damage didn't.

Baron stared at her - not with pity. Not with anger.

But with something in between.

Why did seeing her hurt make his wolf rise?

He scowled and looked away, disgusted with himself. Disgusted with the stupid prince.

Elyan Froste was nothing.

So why did he feel like a stone in his chest?

"Cut. Breathe."

★★★

★★★

Ariya sat quietly by the window of the marital chambers, the sun reflecting pale and thin across the floor.

The locks clicked open from outside, her husband entered, the door slamming behind him.

"You're still dressed?" His voice was laced with annoyance.

She said nothing. She just stared ahead.

"Answer me!" Sergius barked, enraged.

He grabbed her arm - not with care. His grip bruised. He pulled her up.

"I'm your husband, Ariya. You must support me in this. Alpha Haspan Cosmoses will always find that girl. You don't want to piss him.."

She pulled back, slowly.

"I'm tired." she whispered.

He scoffed, stepping closer. "Tired? You've done nothing but breathe air I provide and defy me. You put me in trouble. You'll pay!"

He yanked the chair from beneath her. She didn't fall, but it shook her.

"You will learn...." He said coldly, "....to obey. And to be silent."

Then he walked out. He locked the door.

The silence that followed was worse than his voice.

Ariya picked up the fallen chair. Her hands trembled.

But her eyes?

Cold. Furious. Awake.

★★★

★★★

Elowyn didn't rise this time.

Her opponent had flung her to the side hard enough that the edge of the stone arena met her rib. She curled into herself, chest heaving. Bile rising.

The whispers faded into ringing.

Until a hand grabbed her arm.

Not harsh. Not gentle either.

Firm. Commanding.

Baron Ortega.

His face was unreadable. His eyes like frost.

Without a word, he stooped and lifted her. From the back of her casual vest.

Gasps rippled through the cadets.

"Whoa-"

"Is he carrying him-"

"Isn't that the scentless-"

Elowyn's breath caught. She stared at the ground, dazed.

But Baron didn't look down. His jaw was tight. His steps - swift, precise.

He set her down gently against one of the stone columns at the edge of the field, then stepped back immediately.

"Someone else will replace him." he muttered.

She tried to speak.

"Save it." he snapped, still not looking at her. "You want to survive here? Stop fighting like an underfed stick. Shame."

The others laughed.

Then he turned.

Walked away.

Left her there.

But not before every single person had seen what he'd done.

Not before Elowyn realized....

She had made him feel something.

And in this academy, that was both dangerous and rare.