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“Shall I escort the Lady Reyna to her quarters?” Glennis asked.
“That’s not necessary,” the king said.
Lady Glennis fixed me with a cold, serious glare, and then the two of them left the study. The door closed, and the air in the room suddenly felt tense and heavy around me. I squirmed in my chair, itching to run after Glennis and go hide in my own quarters.
“We’re not finished here,” the king said. His wolf had withdrawn, but his attention still kept me pinned in place.
“I don’t see what else there is to discuss,” I said.
“The dead wolf is Rona.”
It was as if he’d dumped ice water over my head. The chill ran from the crown of my head all the way to my feet. Part of me had known it the entire time, though—my wolf had recognized her from her shift in the arena. But I’d denied it, avoiding that truth because it was too painful to face. I knew Rona didn’t like me, and I was used to that. I was used to being disliked. But hated so intensely she wanted to kill me? What had I done to deserve that?
I slumped forward and stared into the basin of dirtied water. Dirtied with Rona’s blood. “Why?” I asked. “Why would she attack me?”
The king tilted his head. “What?”
“I haven’t done anything to her,” I said. “I’ve been nothing but nice. I realized she didn’t like me, but—”
“Really?” the king asked. He looked halfway between distressed and amused. “You don’t understand?”
“No!” I nearly threw my hands up over my head. “No, Your Majesty, forgive me for not understanding why I just got nearly mauled to death in the midst of the Choice.”
“You’re her only competition,” the king said, like this was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Fina and Adora are better suited for the role than I am. They’re the true competition.” I was so caught up in the confusion and horror of what had happened I briefly forgot that I was speaking to the king himself. Then I snapped my jaw shut, and glanced up with wide-eyed horror.
A small, bemused smile played on his face. It wasn’t quite as smirky as the expression I was used to, but it didn’t look angry. Despite the fact that I’d just called him ridiculous to his face.
“They are suited for the role, of course,” the king said. “Any woman sent by a court would be. But I need a queen who can fight by my side, not a lady more interested in fashion, socializing… Womanly things.”
“Those ‘womanly things’ are what keep a court running,” I said. “You and I both know perfectly well that Fina or Adora would make an excellent queen, especially if you want the rest of Frasia to trust you to lead. What you call ‘fashion’ and ‘socializing,’ a queen calls ‘trade’ and ‘diplomacy.’” I shook my head. “Adora may be weak with a sword, but the resources she would bring to your court would empower you more than any show of strength on a battlefield.”
“The council agrees with you,” the king admitted.
I blinked. “They do?”
“It’s an obvious choice,” the king said. “Adora is a beautiful woman with exceptional resources at her disposal. She impressed the council greatly during the first trial.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “So it’s settled.” A strange dark disappointment washed over me.
“The competition hasn’t ended,” the king said. “The council does not make the decision—I do.”
I glanced up. “It doesn’t seem right to continue after this.”
He took another sip of his drink. “I am not holding the Choice for purely political means.”
“You’re speaking in riddles.” My head was spinning. Too much had happened in the past hour—I couldn’t keep up with the king’s tendency to talk around things. So the council had a favorite, but the competition was still ongoing, and Rona was dead. Where did we go from here? And strangely—why had the thought of being dismissed not filled me with relief?
Why did I want to stay in Efra, despite my simultaneous, fierce desire to return home?
“I will take the council’s recommendations into consideration,” the king said. “But this Choice is not only for me to find the Queen of Frasia. It’s for me to find my mate.”
Mate. The word sent a thrill down my spine, an electric sensation not unlike the promise of a shift. He sought a mate. My wolf wanted to howl with delight. He didn’t just want a diplomatic partner, a wife, a convenient arrangement to improve his reputation—he wanted a wolf with which to share his entire life.
But I already had that. I had Griffin.
My wolf whined. Griffin had never used the word mate, had he? And neither had I. That wasn’t what I wanted. It was so—animalistic. I wanted someone who appreciated me for who I was, for my mind and my skills and my ambition. And Griffin did.
