Page 110 of White Raven

Bjørn winked at me, strolling away.

People moved out of his way as he cut across the dance floor, stopping at the edge of the room. He conversed with someone in the shadows, his chin flicking at me.

The other man turned his head.

Onyx.

Our gazes locked on each other through the figures moving between us. Flames sputtered to life over my skin, flushing me hot. The entire room disappeared, leaving only the threads lacing through the space between us. The instinct to move to him twitched my limbs, commandeering my body. I had no defense, nothing blocking my emotions from tumbling out on the floor for all to see.

“Wife?” My arm was yanked, breaking my attention away from Onyx. King Helvig motioned for me to greet the man and woman standing before us. I muttered something, my head twisting back to find that the space had flooded with people, blocking him and Bjørn from view, isolating me from anything familiar.

The stream of people was endless, King Helvig moving me around like a roaming peacock, taking praise on my beauty like he was the one who issued it, receiving boasts of his power as if he went to war for it. I was no longer needed, a puppet to be moved by his hand.

The thrall, Sölvi, was there, topping his glass, as the king proceeded to get drunker, his words slurring.

“My liege, you must get something to eat,” one of his female flock members purred, licking at his ear. “Keep up your strength for later.”

“Yes, my beauty. You are right.” He grasped her face, kissing her deeply right in front of me, the entire room a witness. In my culture, you could freely flirt and fuck, but once you were married, you were faithful to your partner. King Vorian claimed to have been utterly devoted to Queen Elsara until her death. Here the king had no such rules. “You always take care of me so well.”

She hummed, her lids fluttering with desire, leading him back toward the throne chairs.

“Your majesty?” another male flock member called, turning the king to us. The male gestured subtly to me.

“Ah, yes. Come,” Gavric commanded, barely acknowledging me as I stumbled forward.

“I need to refresh myself, my liege.” I curtsied, trying not to succumb to the lightness in my head. Craving one moment alone.

Gavric frowned but waved me off. “Make sure someone goes with her. Where are her handmaidens?”

“You told them they weren’t needed tonight, sire,” the girl responded. “That she would be indisposed and would not be returning to her room this evening.”

He grinned, his hand cupping the woman’s cheek. “I can always count on my Aina, to remember for me.”

Her face glowed with his praise.

Note to self: Never trust Aina.

“Guards!” he barked. Sven, Renyx, and Brynn stepped into the fold from the shadows. “One of you follow her. Make sure my wife doesn’t wander off . . .”

“I will, my lord.” Sven dipped his head.

“Don’t disappoint me, nephew,” the king said, taking a sip of his wine.

“No, sir.” Sven bowed deeper, the king already stumbling away.

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Brynn ordered, before following behind the king.

“If you fuck this up, kid . . .” Renyx lifted his brow.

Sven bristled. “I won’t.”

Renyx peered at me as if he was challenging me, the resentment and dislike for me clinging to him. He sighed, exiting the space, catching up with Brynn.

Sven’s mouth pinched, whipping to me. “You make one wrong move⁠—”

“And you’ll what? Kill me?” I countered. “Spill the White Raven’s blood right here?”

He shifted, violence not fitting him the way it did the others. I could see the pressure to prove to everyone he deserved his spot, be as ruthless and cruel as his uncle, like his fellow Night Hunters.