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I reared back. “Like what?” I asked. “Like a sniffling, depressed woman?”
“No,” he said. “Grief is private. I wouldn’t let my guards stomp into your quarters like that.”
Of course, the king had stomped into my private quarters without asking—but I supposed it was different when he was my fiancé. Strangely, that small bit of respect warmed me enough to let me take a seat across from him by the fire.
He poured us each a small amount of brandy. He handed me my glass, and I accepted it, then tucked my feet up under my body in the overstuffed chair. He assessed me under his gaze, and my wolf preened under the attention. No matter what the king did, she never felt threatened by him. She always wanted to be closer.
“So,” he asked, “where exactly did you find this map?”
“In the library,” I said.
He sighed. “Trouble always seems to occur when you’re there. Was this near my study?”
“Yes,” I said, “you know, where all the maps are.” Now, it was my turn to smirk. The king almost rolled his eyes.
“It looked like it hadn’t been used in a long time,” I said, “but it wasn’t hidden. Just stuck on a high shelf.”
The king rubbed his chin. “Manor blueprints shouldn’t be lying around in the library where anyone can find them. Especially if they list the tunnels.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Your Majesty,” I said. “That’s where I found it. If you wanted—”
“Please,” he cut in. “Call me Elias. I don’t want my title to divide us.”
The argument I was preparing melted on my tongue. I hadn’t called him Elias since the night we’d spent together—the night I tried not to think about, lest my body betray me with its desire.
“It’s not just your title,” I said. “It’s who you are. You are the king. It’s not just a role you can take on and off like your cloak. It’s like your wolf—it’s always there.” I took a tentative sip of my brandy. “And you’ve already divided us. You killed a member of my court.”
“Your former court,” the king noted.
“And,” I said, “you didn’t tell me that this Choice was about fulfilling the prophecy.”
“If that were true, you would not be sitting here with me right now,” the king said. “The council chose Adora.”
I nearly dropped my glass. “What? What do you mean? Then why is she not queen?”
“I don’t believe in the prophecy,” the king said. “Those old superstitions don’t matter to me. They matter to my mother, and to the council. But not to me. I meant what I told you, Reyna. I made my final decision for love.”
“Love,” I repeated softly. He’d said it once, and I hadn’t believed it. I still wasn’t sure if I did. But why else would he reject the council’s choice? I felt similar to how I had in the arena—like I was suddenly plunged underwater, distanced from experience. It couldn’t be real. I gripped my glass hard and gazed into the brown liquid.
“I understand you don’t feel the same for me,” the king continued, “but it will come in time. I’ll prove myself to you, just as I’ve proven myself to be a good king to the citizens of Efra. I have no doubt about that.”
“How would you know my feelings?” I asked. “You’ve never asked. This whole Choice has just been me being forced around, over and over, with no consideration for what I want. It was never meant to bring us together. The council wanted to fulfill a prophecy, and you wanted—I don’t know, to defy them like a teenager. You only think of yourself.”
My wolf whined internally. I’d never spoken like this to anyone—least of all the king. In my grief, I didn’t care. Consequences be damned. He needed to realize the extent of what he’d done.
“Reyna, please,” he said softly. “What can I do to fix this?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Not now. I just—I need time. A lot has changed. I have to accept that.”
“Am I that bad?” the king asked. His expression was soft and almost hurt. “Is marrying me such a nightmare?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. I set my glass down and washed my face in my hands. “I don’t know anything right now. I thought I knew where I fit in this world, but that’s all been taken away from me. I have to figure out who I am—what I’m supposed to be. If the queendom is only about death and blood—I can’t do it. There has to be more than that.”
Again, I expected the king to argue with me. But when I looked up, he was just watching me with a furrow in his brow and that same curious, sad look on his face. He nodded. “I understand.”
“You do?”
“You’re right, in that being king is more than a title. But in the same way I am the king, I’ll be your husband, too. And I will listen to you—as your husband.” He stood up, bowed, and took his leave before I had a chance to process that.
