I placed a glass of champagne at the top of a champagne tower, let out an exasperated sigh, and fell to the floor next to the table it was on. Rubbing my blocked temples, my entire body was on fire from hours of cooking for the coronation, and now I was asked to stay at the party to arrange the dishes I cooked on the tables.
I lay on the concrete floor, groaning in agony as I watched the guests' shoes walk around the living room, chatting and talking. I stared at the moon in the night sky, which was visible because of a giant glass that was in the middle of the ceiling. It was supposed to be my coronation; I was supposed to be the next alpha, but the alpha’s council was giving the throne to a stranger. I closed my eyes, trying to take a nap on the floor, when I felt someone kick me in the
