Page 201 of A Warrior's Fate

Though Isla had said the assistance wasn’t necessary, both Zahra and Maeve insisted.

And after opting for a quick shower rather than a bath in order to get moving to Jonah, she’d exited the bathroom, clad in a dressing gown, to find Maeve had laid out her clothes.

She wasn’t sure where the dress had come from. It was a carnation red meant to wrap around her body, cinch at the waist, and flow down to a sliver above her knees. Its neckline tastefully dropped into a V, enough to show the layers of delicate gold necklaces that had also been left out, but not reveal too much. Tiny white petals decorated the thin but exquisite fabric, perfect for a summer’s day. Great, along with the flat, nude-colored shoes, for easy movement.

As Isla tested the cloth between her fingers, Maeve took a comb in hand. It was yet something else Isla had deemed unnecessary, telling her not to let her hinder her day, but Maeve was persistent and eager to try out a braiding style that would accent the way lighter and darker shades of gold played in Isla’s hair.

So, Isla sat before a vanity as she had days ago for Davina, and tried to relax as Maeve worked the tangles from her damp tresses.

“You’re mated?”

Maeve spoke softly, and Isla glanced at her and then herself, in the mirror. Her mark was clearly visible beneath the loose, white silk of her gown.

The corners of her mouth curled upwards. “I am.”

Maeve’s brown eyes met hers briefly. “Fated?”

“Yes, actually.”

Maeve’s fingers stalled at the ends of Isla’s hair. “Really? You don’t hear that much anymore.”

“I know,” Isla mused.

Maeve bit her lip, continuing her ministrations. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

Isla smiled, and though she spared his name and most of the dead-giveaway details, she was more than happy to share about the day they’d met and feed into whatever other questions Maeve asked. A spark had lit in the handmaiden’s eye—one Isla was familiar with, and one she’d resented in her life. The hope that it was possible to find the person one was meant for, and the all-consuming drive to find them.

Any joy that the two women had found soured after a knock came at the door.

It was another staff member, a man, clad in a navy buttoned tunic and dark pants, and the news he shared, although Isla had been aware, seized the room. The world.

The alpha’s challenge had been approved.

Maeve gasped, her fingers trembling so much that she’d dropped a strand of Isla’s hair, and Isla willed her teeth not to shatter as she experienced that horrible sinking feeling all over again.

“There will be a broadcast shortly,” the man said. “Alpha Kai will address the pack.”

Isla perked in her seat. “Over the radio?” He nodded. “Can one be brought in?”

Another nod, and he vanished.

“Goddess,” Maeve breathed, taking hold of Isla’s tresses again. “I can’t believe it.”

Isla cast her eyes to the floor. “Tell me about it.”

Once her braid had been woven, Maeve had helped her into her dress, and the man—Cesar, she’d learned—had arrived with the radio, then the broadcast began.

Ezekiel spoke first, presenting the situation, the logistics.

In ten days, on the night of the full moon, Kai would face his challenger, Brax, a wolf hailing from rogue territory.

The beta left out any explanation of Brax’s claim of murdering Kyran and Jaden but supplied the new information of it being held in the arena burrowed in the mountain at the end of the river. All pack members could and were urged to attend, but he warned that the arena could reach capacity. There would be a broadcast for those who couldn’t make it with live updates.

Isla’s lunch turned in her stomach, and the weight of reality forced her to sit down again. She tasted blood as she bit down on her cheek to distract her from the sting of her eyes and the thoughts of having to sit and watch Kai while he—

Her grip tightened on the fabric of her skirt as her mate’s voice came through the speaker.

“I wish I was addressing you all under better circumstances.”

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