The week went by in a flash, and next thing I knew, Susan and I were walking into the dance hall for the Full Moon Ball.

The stage was lined with a red carpet that flowed down a few steps to the center of a well-polished dance floor. Golden chandeliers were heavy with candles that lit the room with a warm white glow. There were huge bouquets of red roses everywhere.

A band was playing quietly at one end of the stage. The conductor was leading them to a slow tempo, waving his arms in a way that made them look boneless.

“Thank you,” Susan said to me. “Thank you for this amazing dress. I knew you were good, but this is really next level.”

She did look amazing. The dress had a fitted bodice onto which I’d hand sewn what felt like a million garnet colored beads that shimmered in the candlelight and almost looked alive. The skirt was crimson, floor length with a slit up one leg that stopped just below the knee.

“It was nothing,” I replied. But the pale purple circles under my eyes betrayed that I’d been pulling long nights this week, and my fingers were covered in needle pricks.

The other girls in attendance all looked gorgeous. Their dresses were designer, obviously expensive, and ornate. I spotted Caryn, who was wearing a long lace gown as bright white as her big teeth.

I fidgeted with my own dress, which I’d made using scraps left over from a school project. It was black, cut in layers and draped in a way that flattered my hourglass curves, with long sleeves and a gold lace overskirt.

The hall was packed. People were clustered together, whispering excitedly.

I followed Susan to where the concubine selection party was preparing for the prince’s arrival. To my surprise, there were a few human girls in the group, which was otherwise made up of noble female werewolves. Unlike me, though, they were at least noble humans.

“They don’t have much hope for actually being chosen,” Susan whispered to me, eyeing the human girls. “But I guess they just want to try their luck. Good for them.”

As far as I knew, only Lycans and werewolves had ever inhabited the royal palace. It was hard to imagine a prince or king choosing a human mate. They married female werewolves from noble bloodlines — that’s just the way it was.

Susan had insisted on wearing red lipstick that night for the first time, but now she kept asking me to check and see if any had gotten on her teeth.

“You look perfect,” I told her. I gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

I noticed Caryn watching us, whispering to her friends and snickering. She liked to make fun of our friendship, calling me Susan’s sidekick or assistant. I didn’t really care, especially that night — I was just there to support my best friend.

A sudden trumpet tune sounded. The ceremony was about to start.

The conductor turned to face the crowd and called out in a loud voice, “I present to you, heir to the Lycan throne, Prince Nolan!”

The crowd went crazy as the prince walked out onto the stage. Three other tall and handsome men followed him, walking in perfect unison. All of them were dressed in black suits, but the prince stood out easily at the front of the pack.

Nolan was indeed shockingly handsome, with dark features and a stern posture that commanded authority. As he descended the stairs, he turned to look in our direction, and for a brief moment we locked eyes.

My body reacted before my mind could form a complete thought.

I felt sick, faint, thrilled and full of dread all at once.

Nolan’s eyes were dark green, deep set, and intense. They looked right into my soul.

I knew in that instant it was him.

The stranger.

But the prince looked away and I took a deep breath, telling myself I had to be mistaken.

The bloodied werewolf that fucked me in a cave last week could not be the same man I saw before me now — a stately royal with perfect posture, neat hair, and chiseled cheekbones.

But, I remembered, the stranger’s features had been swollen from his injuries. Maybe I had touched those cheekbones when they were buried under bruises.

I couldn’t be sure.

The selection party was like a pageant. The girls took the stage for only a few minutes each, walking slowly to show off their bodies.

The prince watched from below center stage, with his attendants seated beside and behind him.

Some of us passed through our turns quickly. Others showed off talents, offering short performances for the crowd. One, a dancer, turned a beautiful pirouette; a few others attempted musical performances that ranged from dull to downright embarrassing.

Susan was last on stage.

She sang a tune I’d heard her practice before. In a clear, sweet soprano, she wowed the audience with a short melody and earned enthusiastic applause.

I’d asked Evan to meet me here with flowers, so we could bring them to Susan after her performance and act like her fans. I thought it might help her odds of attracting Nolan’s attention.

Evan met me near the stage and we rushed over to Susan as planned, throwing wildflower bouquets at her feet while she bowed before the crowd.

The prince clapped politely. The neutral expression on his face had not changed once since his arrival.

The applause died down. Susan and I took our places, lined up onstage in a row with the other contenders.

The prince stood and walked up the steps to the stage. Whispers ran through the anxious crowd. All eyes were on Susan, who trembled beside me.

The prince paced the stage slowly.

He came to a stop in front of me and Susan.

Then, inexplicably, he reached out and touched my hand.

It felt like a fire ignited inside me.

Before I could process what was happening, the prince pulled me forward.

We faced the crowd, hand in hand.

“Thank you all for coming to the Full Moon Ball,” he announced. His voice was deep and commanding.

“I believe,” he continued, “that I have found my future Luna.”

I couldn’t understand what was happening.

I tried to pull my hand free from Nolan’s, but he held on tight.

Looking at him standing there, his princely stature and simple confidence gave him an appearance of softness and grace. But his grip revealed an incredible, unmovable strength.

I stood beside him helpless for what was probably seconds but felt like an eternity. The crowd began to stir and grumble.

I turned to Susan. All the color had drained from her face.

One of the prince’s men paced over to us, carrying a golden laurel crown studded with sparkling emeralds, atop a red velvet pillow.

Nolan finally released my hand. He took the crown from the attendant and turned to face me, lifting it over my head.

Suddenly a blur of red rushed past me.

Susan stormed forward on the stage, stood at its edge and spun to face us.

Her face was no longer pale, but flushed red with anger, matching the crimson glow of the glass beads on her gown.

“My Lord,” she said, her voice shaky and loud. “There is something about Yena that you should know.”