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A bell sounded from somewhere in the room. The king pulled me close to his side. “That’s our cue,” he said. His voice was low, rumbling from all the talking he’d done to the guests. He looked just as tired as I felt, with his crown a little askance and sweat gathered at the collar of his fine shirt.
I leaned against him, like my body was about to give up standing on its own since he was here to hold us up. “Cue?”
The crowd began to hoot and shout out their well wishes. Scattered throughout the crowd, guests held sparklers, passed out by the servants. The lights glimmered as the crowd parted, leading us to the main door.
My father stood at the edge of the crowd, watching us leave. He caught my gaze and his eyes flashed clay-red as his hand fell to the sheathed knife on his hip.
I swallowed and looked straight ahead.
I was not my father’s pawn, and I was not going to kill the king. At least—not tonight.
28
Lady Glennis led us up the stairs, away from the crowds, where Amity and Rue were waiting for me. “The maidens will escort you to the king’s quarters shortly,” Lady Glennis said curtly.
“Thank you, Lady Glennis,” the king said, fighting back a smile. He dismissed her. Then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me hard on the mouth. “As much as I’d like to tear that dress off you,” he growled, voice low in his chest, “some things are customary. I’ll see you shortly.”
My wolf wanted that—to be claimed—while my mind reeled back at the ferocity of his desire. I was so conflicted, pulled in every direction, overwhelmed by longing and fear and exhaustion.
“R-right,” I stammered. “Yes. The girls will bring me to your room.”
He nodded, pleased, and then strode down the hall to his quarters.
Amity and Rue shifted back into their human forms. They were both grinning enormously as they hurried me back to my quarters. “Oh, gods,” Amity squealed, “he is so romantic! Was the wedding just marvelous? Wait, don’t answer that, you must be exhausted from talking to people—we’ll be quick and get you to his room so you can finally relax.” She opened the door and pushed me inside.
Relaxation would not be happening, that much I knew. Away from the crowd and the noise of the wedding, my anxiety began to creep back up.
Amity and Rue carefully undressed me, hanging the wedding gown up behind the dressing screen. In the ensuite, they washed the dirt from my feet, but when I moved to submerge myself in the tub, Rue stopped me. “Just your feet,” she said.
“But I’ve been sweating all night,” I said. “Shouldn’t I…?”
A slight flush rose in Rue’s cheeks, but she shook her head again.
“Custom,” Amity said. “You shouldn’t wash yourself of the memory of your wedding day until it’s consummated.”
“Ah.” Again the anxiety flared in my chest. “If that’s the custom.”
The girls dressed me in a delicate white silk gown, closer to a nightgown than a real dress. I put on a white robe over it, cinched at the waist.
“I’m still a bit chilly,” I said as I padded back into my bedroom. “I’ll just wear this, too.”
I pulled one of the heavy cloaks from the armoire and pulled it over my shoulders. As the girls packed my dress away for cleaning and storage, I pulled my small blade from my trunk and slipped it into the pocket of my robe. It wasn’t the poisoned knife—I wasn’t going to use anything my father gave me, ever again. But if Barion had taught me anything, it was to always be prepared for the worst. I wouldn’t hesitate to defend myself from the king’s advances. I could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.
Amity and Rue escorted me through the halls of the manor to the king’s quarters. On the lower floors, the party still continued, the music and laughter drifting up toward me just as gently as the snowflakes had fallen.
Anticipation and anxiety warred within me. One step I was walking to the gallows, the next to my future. The knife in my pocket felt too sharp, too heavy. Part of me wished the girls had accompanied me in their human forms, just so I’d have someone to talk to. But there was just the quiet of the halls, the vaulted ceilings, the cool floors under my bare feet.
I stood in front of the door to the king’s chambers and took a slow, steadying breath. My wolf could sense his close by. I didn’t even have to knock. He must’ve sensed me, too. The door swung open.
My wolf longed to rush forward and nuzzle close to him. He smiled as he stepped out of the doorway and welcomed me inside.
“Good evening,” he murmured. “Have to admit I was already beginning to miss you.”
I nodded and stepped over the threshold. The room was warm, inviting, with the fire crackling in the hearth.
“Thank you,” the king said to my handmaidens. They lowered their heads, ears back respectfully, and then he closed the door.
We were alone in his chambers. The door to the bedroom was open, that same immense mattress and the dark, soft sheets that I’d lost myself in just a few nights before. Before everything changed. Before I was queen.
