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I nodded.
Then I gasped.
In the middle of my bedroom, Rue and Amity both shifted.
Their turn made the air crackle with magic, and in my chest, a wolf roused into wakefulness, as if she was slowly coming out of a long nap and shaking her fur out. Being near a shift always made my wolf curious—but it was easy to push that desire away.
Rue and Amity were both pups. They stood nearly hip-height to me, and they had the long legs and big paws of still-growing wolves. Both had warm brown coats, Rue’s a shade darker than Amity’s. They tipped their snouts up to me, ears flopping, before padding over to the door. Amity looked back at me expectantly, tail wagging. If they thought I was shifting, they had another thing coming. For one—I’d just gotten dressed!
It was then I realized their dresses and aprons were nowhere to be found.
The servant’s rings. Both of them had a thin silver loop around their front left paw. Was that the ring? Did that allow them to shift and stay in uniform?
It seemed like madness. Why waste the magic and the effort to allow the servants to shift? And why let them do so on manor grounds? Were wolves just shifting whenever they wanted to during court functions? I tried to keep my expression neutral as I stepped between the two pups to open the door.
Rue and Amity escorted me through the wide, dark halls of the manor. Their nails clicked on the stone, and they walked briskly, with ears pointed forward and eyes alert, as if looking for threats. Despite my own discomfort, my wolf was awake and preening at the attention. She liked having the wolves at her side, liked feeling protected, and knowing other wolves were close by. The itch to shift was at the base of my skull, but it was a small, familiar sensation, and one I easily ignored.
We made our way to the solarium, which seemed to act like a central courtyard. It was like a gorgeous, domed greenhouse, with the sunlight falling in through the thick glass panels and snow gathered at the rivets where the panels connected, but the space inside was much warmer than the air outside. Still cool enough that my Daybreak-acclimated self needed my long sleeves, but certainly comfortable.
The space was full of plants that seemed to be adequately taken care of. None of the ferns looked particularly happy and some of the flowers were drooping, but it was overall lush and a clear display of wealth and status. Not everyone had the capacity to keep such aesthetic greenery alive in these temperatures. I couldn’t help but wonder if these were plants my grandfather, Constantine, had brought to this solarium—if they were here before Nightfall took power, and were kept alive only because they were proof of wealth.
The Bloody King didn’t seem like the type to tend flowers. He wasn’t the type to put any restraints on wildness.
The relaxing atmosphere was slightly disturbed by the presence of the Nightfall guards flanking the doors in their leather armor and long fur-lined cloaks. Each of those men had the same rings that the servants wore. I wondered if they preferred to fight as wolves or as men.
A small table had been set up in the middle of the solarium, with another tray of coffee. Two women were already seated at the table. One was obviously from Dawnguard, and I didn’t need to see her tiara to know it. She was wearing a long, practical skirt with a long-sleeved shirt buttoned to the hollow of her throat, both the deep green of the Frasian military. Dawnguard was responsible for training Frasian soldiers, and this woman had clearly participated. She had sharp green eyes and bright red hair, more orange than Griffin’s was, that she wore in a short, functional cut. The style of her shirt made her shoulders look even broader—she looked like her grip could shatter the coffee cup she was holding if she wanted to. My gaze must have lingered too long on her, though, because she caught my eyes and scowled.
The woman at her side looked like a polar opposite. She didn’t look weak, per se, but she looked… luxurious. Like she should be lounging on a chaise somewhere being fed grapes instead of sipping coffee at this table. Her pale shoulders sloped delicately, leading to the low lace neckline of her lavender gown. She even had a fine white fur stole draped around her against the cold. But the strangest thing was her white-blonde hair and her pale blue eyes.
She looked like me.
She was curved where I was a bit narrower, but we even had the same nose. She looked like who I might have been if I’d been raised with the Starcrest pack instead of in Daybreak. It was unnerving, and from the expression on her face, she felt the same way.
I cleared my throat and joined the two at the table. “Good morning,” I said neatly. “I’m Reyna of Daybreak.”
“Adora of Starcrest,” the blonde woman said as she offered her hand for a delicate shake. Even her hands were soft, like she’d never had to do a chore in her life. She didn’t say anything about our resemblance so I didn’t either. But for some reason, I trusted her tentative smile.
“Wynona of Dawnguard,” the other woman said, offering me a curt handshake from across the table. It was much firmer than Adora’s, with the telltale calluses that only came from hours and hours and hours of sword-wielding. I had them too but mine weren’t nearly as thick. Her attention went almost immediately back to the guards standing by the doors to the solarium, as if she was silently assessing them.
What kind of woman would the king be looking for? Someone strong and capable like Wynona? Or someone more elegant, like Adora?
The door opened again, and the other two competitors walked in. First was a tall, serious-looking girl with dark hair pulled back into a simple, low bun. Her tiara was smaller and lacked moonstone while her gown was simple, dark purple with no embellishments. I stood to greet her, and the other two women followed my lead.
“Rona of Nightfall,” she said curtly. Her dark eyes narrowed with suspicion as we made our introductions.
“Hi!” the last competitor chirped from behind Rona, as if the Nightfall candidate hadn’t brought a storm cloud into the room. She was taller than me, thin as a whip, with a huge smile on her round, friendly face. Her tiara with the Duskmoon crest was tucked into her dark, tightly curled hair, and her silver gown glowed as bright as the full moon on her rich umber skin. “Fina, of Duskmoon!”
“Nice to meet you, Fina, I’m Reyna of—oof!” When Fina took my hand to shake, she locked me into a tight hug. It wouldn’t do to be rude, so despite my surprise, I gently returned the embrace.
When Fina pulled back, her smile was somehow even bigger.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m really excited to be here. Did you know it’s been nearly a hundred years since there was a King’s Choice? I just think it’s so cool that we get to represent all the packs in once place. It’s such a moment in history!”
She beamed at the other women and got two stern stares - from Rona and Wynona - and a confused look from Adora directed at her in response. Her smile faded a little.
“Have some coffee,” I said, directing her to join us at the table.
We had a cup each and some vaguely awkward chitchat, carried mostly by Fina doing her best to get us all to open up. But the other contestants were either uninterested, or simply anxious, waiting for the official start of the competition.
