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He squeezed my hand and then pulled me close, in the center of the dance floor. The other guests watched us as they circled around with warm smiles on their faces and champagne in their hands. The king held me close with hand at my lower back, holding me nearly flush against his body as we danced to the slow, romantic song. Our first dance. We were married.
I closed my eyes and let him guide me through the waltz.
The rest of the day was about us.
The day, and the night.
I’d be moving quarters. Somehow, in all my anxiety about the ceremony itself, I’d forgotten about a key part of a marriage.
Consummating it.
His hand burned like a brand on my lower back. When he touched me, my wolf leaned into it, wanting more, more, more, and my own body betrayed me with desire. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, leaning closer and closer until I was burned. I’d let myself get too caught up in my desire once, but that was before Griffin had shown up at the gates of Efra.
We were married—but we weren’t in love. No matter what the king said. He couldn’t expect me to give myself to him, not tonight, not when the loss of the man I’d thought I’d marry was still so fresh.
But somehow dancing with him under the glittering snowflakes still made my heart beat a little faster.
The song ended, picking up into something a little faster. The king smiled, then took my hand and led me off the dance floor as other couples filled it, eager to dance to the high-energy music the band began to play.
“Eventually I’ll teach you the jigs,” he said with a smile. “Just in case. They’re not my favorite, either.”
“Seems like they might be a bit dangerous after a few drinks,” I said. On the dance floor, a young court member picked up his partner by the waist and lifted her so high she squealed with delight.
“That’s part of the fun,” the king said. “Come, let’s take a rest.”
He led me to the dais, and we took our seats on the thrones. Servants swept in immediately and offered us fine hors d’oeuvres and thin slices of cake—cut from the immense cake under the window, which I hadn’t even noticed until now. We each got a glass of champagne, and then the congratulations started. Guest after guest appeared to offer greetings, gifts, teary smiles, long-winded stories. The king thanked everyone graciously. Finally, we’d spoken to most of the guests, and then the king led me back to the floor alongside the court members. I even danced with a few others, including Cyran and Roth. My father lingered near the edges of the room, watching hawk-like, often by the duchess’ side.
I was dancing with Roth and quickly losing ideas of conversations to have, when Barion tapped Roth on the shoulder. “Pardon me,” he said, “mind if I cut in?”
Roth looked just as grateful as I did to be relieved of our awkward conversation. Barion swept in easily, taking my hand in his and setting his other at my waist to lead us in a slightly stiff waltz. He looked handsome in his soldier’s dress uniform, in the tan colors of Daybreak with teal stitching along the collar. I pressed my lips together.
“Congratulations, Reyna,” he said. “You’ll be a fine queen.”
I sniffed. “The duke seems to think so.”
Barion sighed. He squeezed my hand gently. “You know,” he said, “it’s my duty as a soldier of Daybreak to remain loyal to the duke.”
My heart sank. I knew that, of course, but it still made me ache to hear it. I cut my gaze to the side. The king lingered near the edge of the dance floor as he waltzed with Lady Marin. He raised his eyebrows at me but I shook my head minutely. I could handle this myself.
“I never thought otherwise,” I said.
“Yet,” Barion said, “I trained you well, Lady Reyna, and now that you are a wolf of Nightfall, you must make your own decisions. And I trust you will make the decision best for you.”
l glanced up at him, surprised. He was watching me carefully, the corners of his lips downturned. Only then did I realize that Barion may feel just as trapped as I did—between the duty he had to my father, the wolves of Daybreak, and my safety here in Efra. He’d practically raised me, and he’d wanted me to win this Choice. Maybe he hadn’t known about my father’s plan until it was too late.
I couldn’t ask; I’d never know for sure. But it was a relief, a balm, to know that maybe he didn’t want my father’s plan to succeed, either.
“Thank you,” I said. “And thank you for suggesting Fina and Adora stand with me at my wedding.”
His concerned expression melted into his usual jovial smile. Maybe he felt the same slight relief I did. “I’m glad it was a good decision,” he said. “It’s lovely to see you with some real friends, instead of that worm Griffin.”
I laughed, suddenly surprised. “I suppose I didn’t know what I was missing.”
The song ended and Barion stepped away with a bow. “Thank you for the dance,” he said, “and good luck, Lady Reyna.”
That was his way of saying goodbye.
Outside, the sun had dipped down below the horizon, and the evening edged into night. The wine and champagne flowed, the band sweated through their clothes, and the cake was served down to the glass stand. I was still on the dance floor with the king, exhaustion beginning to nip at my heels like a pup.
