Claimed By Alpha Ceaser Cursed To Be His

Ava's POV 

No one sat beside the Cursed Alpha. Until I did.

I still don't know how it happened, exactly. One minute, I was scrubbing a stubborn stain out of the white marble floor in the Grand Hall-a rogue streak of wine left over from the royal mating celebration-and the next minute, a frantic, red-faced attendant had grabbed my arm, yanking me up so fast my head spun.

"You! Get in there, now! The Alpha King is about to arrive, and we're short three girls for the honor guard!"

Before I could even stammer out, "I'm just Ava, the scullery girl," she had shoved me through the massive, oak doors and into the ritual hall. 

It was chaotic, but a silent kind of chaos. Everything glittered. 

The hall was massive, stretching farther than any room I'd ever been allowed inside, with high ceilings painted with scenes of the Moon Goddess and ancient wolves. 

My ragged tunic and bare, dirt-stained feet stood out like a blight on the pristine white carpet that led to the raised thrones.

I froze, heart hammering against my ribs hard enough to rattle my teeth. I was supposed to be in the kitchens, invisible. 

Here, I was a mistake. A stench of poverty and weakness in a room full of powerful, well-bred wolves.

Calm down, Ava. Just pretend you belong. Just for a minute.

The attendant who pushed me must have mistaken my worn, ill-fitting clothes for the plain uniform of a lower-level palace maid. 

The true attendants, all sleek hair and silk uniforms, were already kneeling in perfect, staggered lines on either side of the royal thrones. I scrambled to join the closest line, dropping to my knees and trying to mimic their rigid, heads-down posture.

I could feel the stares. They didn't even need to look; their noses were enough. They knew my scent-the faint, lingering smell of bleach, old sweat, and whatever meager food scraps I'd managed to sneak. 

I was a slave here, a servant at best, and my very presence was an insult to their pure-blood ceremony. A heavy-set wolf near me, wearing the silver crest of the Alpha Guard, subtly shifted, pulling his knee away from mine as if I carried a plague.

Just keep your head down. Don't speak. Don't breathe too loud.

Then the air changed. It wasn't a scent; it was a physical shift in the room's energy, like the moment before a massive thunderstorm hits. 

The heavy tension that had been present since I entered snapped tight, turning into a low, deep thrum that vibrated in my chest. The very stone floor seemed to tremble.

He was here. Caesar Varyn, the new Alpha King. The one they called the Broken Alpha. The Cursed Alpha.

I risked a glance, a tiny flick of my eyes under my lashes. 

He wasn't even fully in the room yet, but the collective reaction of the wolves around me was sickening. 

Terror. Pure, unadulterated fear. A young female attendant across the