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I blinked. I was still shot through with a strange mix of adrenaline and defiance and—something else I couldn’t quantify, heat stirring low in my gut. My wolf was confused. What was that reaction from the king? I’d intended to make him dislike me—had it backfired?
“I can’t believe you just had the King of Frasia apologize to you,” Fina said. “Oh, my days.”
“I need fresh air,” Adora said. She hurried toward the small balcony just off the ballroom, and Fina dragged me along, as well. As she tugged me across the ballroom, Barion caught my eye, then tipped his chin in wordless question. I shook my head. It made me feel better to know he’d had an eye on me while the king had spoken to us, even though I doubted there was anything he could’ve done if the king had decided to make his displeasure known.
But what would the king have done? Even before I knew who he was, when I’d been rude to him, he’d only responded with that smirky teasing. He’d been almost playful. I kept waiting for some kind of punishment to come down, and nothing happened. He just seemed… Curious. Amused. He’d intimidated me, but so far I hadn’t felt threatened at all. It was just his reputation that threatened me more than anything else.
Adora pushed open the glass doors to the balcony. The small balcony overlooked the solarium, its glass panels reflecting the endless stars overhead and the moon, peeking out from behind a cloud. The cold air shocked me, nearly burning my nostrils after the comfortable heat of the ballroom. Adora took a deep, cleansing breath, then exhaled dramatically and braced her hands on the railing of the balcony.
“What were you thinking?” Fina asked sharply. “Speaking to the king like that! That’s going to reflect poorly on all three of us, you know.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Adora said, distraught.
“He would’ve been well within his rights to smack you,” Fina said. “Or worse.”
I sank onto the narrow bench of the balcony and pulled my stole tight around my shoulders. “It’s strange,” I said. “People keep saying that.”
“What,” Fina said, “that you’re crazy?”
“That he’s dangerous,” I said. I thought back to our previous encounters and my brow furrowed. “But I haven’t seen him behave like that at all. Or anything even suggesting that.”
“Well, they don’t call him the Bloody King for nothing,” Adora said. “I wouldn’t push your luck.”
“I’m not pushing my luck, I’m just…” I pressed my lips together. What exactly was I doing? Trying to reconcile the man with his reputation? Trying to figure out what exactly he wanted to get out of the Choice? What did that amused expression on his face mean?
Before I could explain myself, a loud clatter rang out from the ballroom, then shouts and gasps. My wolf jolted to attention, and the three of us rushed back inside.
The sight that greeted us made me stop dead in my tracks. The band had ceased playing, and the room was still. At the doors, two guards in their wolf forms stood with hackles raised and long teeth bared in a snarl. The guests stood still. A woman dropped her glass of wine, and it shattered on the tiles, spilling red across the floor. In the center of the room the king gripped a court member by the throat. It was one of the men who had been seated at the end of the table, laughing riotously during the fine dinner.
The king’s hand was immense on the man’s scrawny neck, tan against his pale flesh, his nails digging into the skin. The man gripped the king’s wrist desperately, tugging at it helplessly. He didn’t even seem to notice.
“Let this be a reminder to you all,” he boomed. His deep voice echoed around the room, effortlessly commanding attention, even with his gaze fixed firmly on the court member’s face. “I may be entertaining this Choice for the benefit of my pack and the Kingdom of Frasia, but my participation in these traditions does not mean I have gone soft.” He bared his teeth in a frightful expression that was half-smile and half-snarl. His eyes glowed golden—he was closer to wolf than man. “I will not tolerate traitors such as Lord Cazzell in my court. Treason will not be met with trials or imprisonment as in courts past. To betray Nightfall is to forfeit your life.”
“Your Highness,” the man gasped. His red face was swiftly turning blue. “Please—no—”
“How dare you speak,” the king snarled. He gripped the man’s neck tighter and lifted him up. His toes now barely touched the floor. The man writhed in his hold, twitching desperately and clawing at his arm.
Then, with a simple snap of his wrist, the king broke his neck.
I gasped in horror, disbelief and disgust racing down my spine like ice.
The man went limp. The king tossed him aside like cleaned chicken bones. The body hit the stone floor with a sick thump, and the king didn’t even grant him a second look. He nodded at two nearby servants, who quickly shifted into small brown wolves. They trotted forward and dragged the corpse out of the ballroom. Every hair on my body was standing on end, and my heart raced.
When I finally tore my eyes away, the king was staring at me.
This wasn’t the curious look I’d felt at dinner, or the amused gaze when I’d spoken with some rudeness. I’d seen his eyes flash gold before, but never so completely. This wasn’t the man looking at me—this was the wolf.
I felt the shift before it happened.
The air in the room crackled with energy. My wolf whined in my chest, and my nape ached. I felt frozen in place, pinned by his gaze.
Then, like a rippling wave, he shifted. He didn’t wear the moonstone rings like the servants did—as his wolf rushed forward, his fine clothes ripped at the seams, falling like autumn leaves. His immense paws hit the stone floor almost soundlessly, and he jerked up and down like he was shaking water from his inky-dark pelt. I’d never seen a wolf so dark. There was no brown in his fur at all, it was all rich black, so deep it looked almost purple in the low light, not dissimilar from the colors of the Nightfall crest. He was the biggest wolf I’d ever seen, bear-like in his immensity, muscles shifting with every breath.
The wolf stalked toward me, his tail low and ears pricked forward.
Fina and Adora took a step back. But me? I couldn’t move.
Then the wolf growled. The sound was so low and so loud it seemed to vibrate into my very bones. I couldn’t help it—I whimpered quietly, lower lip quivering. My wolf whined in my chest, begging me to let her out—to shift, and cower, and show submission in my wolf form. I could feel the desire tugging at me, burning behind my eyes. As much as my wolf wanted to appease the king, I wasn’t going to shift. Not here—not in front of all these strangers. I shifted so rarely, only when I absolutely had to, when I’d skipped too many moon-shifts that I started to get sick. That wasn’t going to change now. My instincts were going crazy. I had no idea what would happen if I did shift.
