Chapter 49

"How will we make an oil that stings like nettles?" I asked Fern at the dinner table. All the single women were required to attend a meal in the elder's hall, and at the head of the grand table, the female elders presided. The mothers and grandmothers of each woman were also present, chatting over the delicious food, but that wasn't my focus. "I thought the sting came from the little hairs, not the leaves or the stem."

"Maybe we could shave some of the hairs off and add it to the oil," Fern said with a wicked grin.

"You're going to put nettles in the massage oil!" We watched a matching wicked smile spread across the face of the girl sitting across from us as her eyebrows jerked upwards.

"Serves those bastards right," said another. "You should put some cassia oil in it. My gran uses it in her liniment. That stuff burns like a bastard."

"Or chilli oil." Another girl waved her fork through the air. "My mum got some of that stuff from a travelling merchant. The first time she rubbed that into the shoulders of one of my dads, he nearly screamed the house down."

"Chilli and cassia oil…" I nodded slowly, recognising the names of products that were brought to market in Stormare.

"You could put some mint in as well," another said. "That'll make their little heads spin. Fire and ice, all at the same time."

"Or some—"

"Ladies." We all turned to see Elder Wren had stood up at the head of the table and regarded us all with a smile. "You all know that the mating games for this year will convene in several days' time. I have no doubt some of you have been alerted to this by your prospective mates. I need each one of you to come with me now."

Hands reached across the table, taking mine and squeezing it, words of encouragement whispered as Fern and I rose to our feet along with the other women that would participate in this damnable ritual. Saffron and Hazel beamed as we drew closer, bringing the two of us into their midst.

"Follow me."

The older women led the way, which was perhaps fitting. They knew how this process worked, while we were just forced to follow along. I hated following along. It felt like I'd been doing it my entire life, giving way to those older or more powerful than me, and where had that got me? But I held my tongue as we walked into another room.

I'd seen something similar to this before in a perfumers that was based in the shopping district nearest to my father's castle. My mother had brought me there when I became a woman, so that I might create my signature scent. Lemon and myrrh, sandalwood and the musk of a certain cat only found in the jungles in the south—the combined perfume of them all had made my head spin. But I'd selected a handful of floral scents, jasmine, gardenia, and tuberose and the artisan had mixed them to create something magical. As I looked at the shelves around us and all the different aromas trapped in amber bottles, I wondered what we were doing here.

"The first step of the mating games is a preparatory one," Wren said. "For some of you, you will meet your mates for the first time." A little buzz of chatter made clear which of them fit that bill. "For others, this is a shift in your relationship. From childhood friend or distant paramour, you will all start the process of getting to know your mates. As a community, we will test each pack, ensuring they are suitable for our young women."

Her eyes found mine, making me want to take a step backwards.

"But first, we must begin introductions. On the first day of the games, all contenders will be introduced to all the packs currently residing on packlands. They will submit themselves to public scrutiny, and you will assist in the process. This ritual comes from an ancient one, where any kind of physical imperfection would mean a pack would be exiled from the lands."

Wren's lips thinned.

"We do not hold with such nonsense now, but the ritual remains. Rather than strip naked, each pack member will present themselves shirtless to the crowd. In the past, contenders were oiled up using the fat of a beast they had killed with their own hands, but now we use seed oils."

She held up a small glass bottle of yellow oil in one hand.

"We have decanted one for each of you, and it is up to you to choose how you will perfume it. Some women like to use the scents they like best, others pick those scents they think suit their mates. There is no wrong choice. Remember, fate moves your very hand, and every action brings you closer to those you are fated to be with…"

But not me. My hands formed fists as every muscle tensed. If this was the hand of fate, I was just about to knock it away to stop it meddling with my life. I kept my peace though, allowing Wren to continue.

"Take your bottle, sample the scents we have, and choose the ones that call to you." She nodded slowly. "Let fate guide your choice."

"What's fate telling you to add to the oil?" Fern asked with a smirk. We each collected our bottles, then began perusing the scents. "Sandalwood?" She held out a long glass stopper, the scent of the sweet wood clinging to the surface. "Or orange blossom?"

"Is there essence of cow dung?" I whispered back. "The stink of a latrine well past needing to be covered over? They are what ‘fate' tells me I need to add."

"Well, patchouli always smells like dog shit to me," she said, pointing to a dark, murky liquid. "But if you want something with bite?" She nodded to a bottle labelled clove oil. "That smells sweet enough, but it's got a sting to it."

My hand reached without thinking, gripping the stopper, then bringing it up. I breathed in deeply, the perfume making my nose tingle and my eyes water a little. But Fern said it would burn, so I brought it down to my skin, right as she stopped me.

"Not pure." She shook her head. "Any of these oils will burn your skin raw if you let them touch you without a carrier oil." Cogs started to whirr inside my head as I looked around me. "Try it like this."

She poured a little oil into a small dish, then added a single drop of the clove oil, then stirred it in well before dabbing a little on the back of my hand.

"Oh!" I felt a warming sensation instantly, one that seemed to grow and grow by the second, until I was forced to grab a napkin and wipe it off. "What was that?"

"Clove, Cassia, and chilli oil," she said. "All of them make your skin heat up something fierce. Only gets worse in the sun, and you can't wash it off. My gran makes a liniment that had us kids declaring we were fine when she broke out the bottle."

"It irritates the skin…?" I smiled slowly. "Show me all of the scents that have this effect if you will."

"Dear gods, the look on your face…" She blinked, then burst out laughing. "This will be far worse than any nettle. They think they're going to set you on fire with their virile masculine presence, but you…" Fern shook her head slowly. "You're going to set them on actual fire."

Yes, I would. The fates must've indeed been working through me because I added as much of the different warming oils as I dared, testing it against my skin, then hissing in response. It was as if I'd held my wrist to a naked flame, forcing me to scrub the oil off with a piece of cloth. But even after removing it, I could still feel the burn.

"You have made your choice?" Wren asked me as I returned to the centre of the room. Those canny eyes, they felt like they saw everything, yet she did not make comment.

"I have, Elder Wren."

Her lips twitched, but she stopped herself from smiling.

"Well, now it's in the hands of the fates. Good luck during the mating games, young Jess."

"Thank you, Elder," I said, bowing low, looking like the perfect mate candidate, all while clutching the oil to my chest.

Creed's pack thought they were going to force me to engage with them? Well, I'd just have to show them the error of their ways. By the time the games were over, they'd be begging me to reject each and every one of them.

And then I'd be free.

That thought tantalised me more than any man ever could, and I clutched it tight, even as I walked out of the room.