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The king’s wolf was so big that he was nearly as tall as I was standing up straight in human form. He stalked closer until I could feel the rough, hard exhale of each breath through his nose, and smell the wild animal scent of his pelt. My wolf whined again. She wanted to be free so badly—she wanted to make this right, to connect.
His golden eyes bored into me. His jaw dropped open, revealing his sharp teeth. He wasn’t snarling, but such an expression didn’t seem far off.
Even in his wolf form, I wasn’t getting any more answers. He was just looking at me. What did he want?
A brusque laugh cut through the silence of the room. Rona was doing a terrible job of hiding her smile behind her hand, watching this encounter like it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen in her life. The sound caught the king’s attention, too, and he swiveled his head, peering over his shoulder to find the source. This close I could reach out and bury my hands in the thick fur of his hackles or run my finger down the velvety-looking fur of his big, pointed ear.
I could. I wouldn’t—but I could.
Rona didn’t seem to capture the king’s interest, though. He turned back to me, and this time, he moved even closer. He tucked his snout right into the crook of my neck and sniffed. I could feel the small inhalations and exhalations as he explored my neck and shoulder, pushing the fur stole out of the way to better access the bare skin. I closed my eyes tightly and tipped my chin up, just barely, and prayed to whatever gods were listening that the king didn’t decide to tear out my throat for my earlier insolence.
His fur brushed my jawline as he moved. It was softer than I’d imagined. I was too afraid to move or think or even breathe.
Then the wolf stepped back. I risked opening my eyes. His ears flicked, and his golden eyes burned into mine for a long moment—and then he turned and bounded out of the ballroom.
I staggered backward. Only Fina’s hand on my shoulder kept my knees from buckling.
“Music, please!” Lady Glennis crowed, gesturing at the band. With some confusion and effort, they picked up their instruments and began playing again. A strange tension rippled through the crowd as people began to speak again, and the servants cleaned the spilled wine.
“Was that ‘Bloody’ enough for you?” Fina hissed in my ear.
I swallowed. Even with the king gone, the sensation of his breath on my neck still lingered.
8
“He’s completely out of control,” I said furiously as I rapidly braided my hair into a plait. After a somewhat fitful night of sleep, I’d woken up not shocked by the king’s behavior, but angry. “I’d known the Nightfall wolves were keen on shifting, but that display last night was sickening!”
Barion had joined me in my room for coffee before I headed to the solarium for breakfast. Amity and Rue had brought my clothes from the tailor earlier that morning, but I’d requested privacy to get ready. The next trial was right after breakfast and I needed to get on my head on straight before I went into the arena.
“It’s how he rules,” Barion said. “Cazzell drunkenly revealed that he’d been embezzling some of Nightfall’s moonstone and cutting under-the-table deals with the traders from Shianga.”
“And that’s cause for execution?” I demanded. “It’s a trade dispute!”
“It’s like he said.” Barion sipped his coffee. “He wanted to make an example of it, to prevent anyone else from trying anything similar.”
“I bet he’s just pissed he has to hold this Choice at all,” I huffed. “He’d probably be happier running around in the woods slaughtering deer.”
“Oh, I’m sure he makes time for that,” Barion said.
I gaped at him.
“I’m kidding,” Barion said, laughing. “He’s busy with his kingly duties. Is it just the execution that’s got you so wound up? I thought you’d be expecting behavior like that, what with how worried you were about your imagined punishment.”
I sighed and stepped behind the dressing screen. The tailor had sent four outfits, including the one I’d requested at the shop. Two were gowns and two had trousers. For today’s trial, I decided on one of the outfits with trousers—a different fit than the one I’d tried on in the shop. It was a simple dark teal bodice, embroidered with light blue, and matching dark, fitted trousers more similar to menswear than womens. Over that I wore a knee-length skirt, except the skirt opened in the front, allowing full freedom of movement while still maintaining my modesty.
I’d never worn anything like this. My father never would’ve allowed me to wear trousers, not even when sparring with Barion.
“Speak up, pup,” Barion prompted.
“Ugh,” I said as I tugged the trousers on. “You saw him.”
“What part?”
“He sniffed me.”
Barion chuckled. “Indeed he did.”
“That’s so invasive!” I tugged the bodice on over my head and fastened the clasps on the front. Camille had really thought of everything—I didn’t need a handmaiden to put this on. “And embarrassing! Right in front of all the court members? Why would he do such a thing? It was so disorienting.”
