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This was my father. The man who had raised me, however distantly. He’d never loved me. Not even a little. I was nothing more than a soldier. A resource.
Instead, he shoved it into my hands. He needed me. “I expect you to do as I’ve instructed,” he hissed. “Or else things will not turn out well for you.”
I swallowed. “Goodnight, father.” I stepped backward toward my quarters, still half-expecting him to attack me. I opened the door and slipped inside, hurriedly closing it and turning the lock.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the door. My adrenaline was still high, my heart pounding and blood rushing in my ears.
Here I was, alone in my room. Even more alone than I’d felt when I’d first come to Efra. How long had this rage been bubbling in my father’s heart? How many times had he wished he could tell all of this to me? Me, his pathetic daughter that had tried so hard to please him? All he’d ever cared about was using me. Keeping me under his control.
Was there anyone in Efra who was on my side?
25
I hardly had any time to process what my father had said. Everything Griffin had said was true—I wasn’t a daughter of Daybreak at all. What that meant for my future, I didn’t know. I barely had time to feel my own heartbreak before I was awakened again, cleaned up, dressed, rushed into wedding planning meetings, meals, and then back to my room for a fitting. I hardly had time to breathe, let alone discuss what had happened with Fina or Adora.
I was paying for the two days I’d spent immobilized by grief. Now, I was floundering in the rushing surf, trying to keep my head above water. I couldn’t think about my father, or Griffin, or anything that had happened over the past few tumultuous days. I had to survive this wedding, get my father out of Efra, and then—maybe—I could let myself feel.
“Oh, gods,” I murmured as Amity walked in with a dress box nearly as big as she was. “What’s this?”
“It’s from Camille’s,” Amity said. “Tatina sent it. She designed it herself.”
Carefully, Amity and Rue pulled the dress from the box and unfurled it. It was a gorgeous gown in purple so dark it looked black, except for when the light hit it from a certain angle. Diamonds gleamed in the full skirt, threaded into it like errant snowflakes, and the bodice was tight and high-necked, though the back plunged down under my shoulder blades. It was elegant: a little sultry but not too exposing.
“And look,” Rue said. She tucked her hand into the skirt, wiggling her fingers in the opening. “Pockets.”
In the box, a note rested at the bottom of the box, where it had been hidden by the silk. I picked it up. A gift for the future Queen of Frasia, it read in fine cursive script. May this be the start of the rest of your life. Tatina herself had signed it, alongside Camille’s seal.
Behind my dressing screen, the girls helped me into the gown. Then they braided my hair into a fine plait, wrapped around my head like a crown, and set my tiara into it. It exposed the pale expanse of my shoulders, a striking contrast to the rich dark color of the fabric. It was elegant. Fit for a queen.
“Where are those rings?” Amity asked. “The moonstone ones?”
“Oh, I saw them in the bathroom,” Rue said.
As the girls hunted down the jewelry that would be the finishing touches to my outfit, I pulled my small knife from my trunk and slid it into my pocket. There was even a hole at the bottom of the pocket that the sheathed blade slipped perfectly through, as if it was made with self-protection in mind. I wondered again about Tatina—if she knew more about this situation than she let on.
I left the poisoned knife where I’d stashed it among my things. I would defend myself if necessary, but there was no way I was going to try to assassinate the king. I would never knowingly kill another wolf—what had happened with Rona was my father’s fault, too. Besides, I would no longer be his pawn. If I murdered the king, I would be just as bad as he was.
“Remind me what this ball is for?” I asked the girls. I rubbed my temples, careful not to smudge my makeup. “I’ve been doing so much planning, I can’t seem to keep it all straight.”
Amity laughed. “The dinner last night was to welcome your father,” she said, “with only the high-ranking members of the court. This ball is to introduce you as the future Queen of Frasia—the official announcement of the King’s Choice. There the court members and other important high-ranking wolves of Nightfall will officially meet you and make their greetings.”
“Wonderful,” I said. My head already hurt. This was going to be a long night.
Both of them escorted me down to the main hall. But instead of leading me in through the front doors, as I had entered before, Amity shifted back into her human form and led me into a small side door. Then, we went down a narrow hallway and into what appeared to be a staging area. The side of the dais was visible, and the king was already seated on his throne on the dais. He lounged there like a pleased jungle cat, regal in his heavy cloak and fine black silk clothes. His crown gleamed in the dim light.
I swallowed, bracing myself.
Lady Glennis appeared seemingly out of nowhere, giving me a brisk once-over and then a nod of approval. Before I could say anything, she stepped out of the staging area and into the hall. She stood on the dais, commanding the room without saying a word. The chatter of the guests fell silent.
“Wolves of Nightfall,” she said, “I present to you, the future Queen of Frasia.”
I stepped out onto the dais.
The room was full of court members and high-ranking citizens of all ages, all dressed in their finest clothes of black and rich purple. The room broke into applause as I stepped out. My gaze swept over the room as I kept a neutral smile on my face. Play the role.
The only two not in the colors of Nightfall were Fina and Adora, dressed in their respective court decor like two beautiful stars in a dark sky. My heart soared. More than anything I wanted to talk to them and explain everything that happened. We hadn’t had a moment of privacy. Surely speaking to them would help clear some of the chaos in my mind.
The king stood from his throne and stepped down. He smiled at me, his brown eyes warm and open—closer to the man I’d seen privately in my quarters than the fierce king I’d been beside at similar events. I took his hand when it was offered and let him walk me up the few steps to the dais. We took our respective seats on the thrones. The king took my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. It was theater, for the audience of court members watching us, but his eyes flashed gold when he looked at me, anyway.
