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With one last smoothing sweep down her skirts, Briar stood. “I guess I have to be.” She took Maez’s hand and stepped out of the carriage. I clumsily clambered out behind her, pins and needles tingling my stiff legs.
As I craned my neck toward the dizzying steeples, Grae and the other guards approached. My heart fluttered as he prowled toward me. His hand lifted ever so slightly, and I had the sudden urge to reach out and take it. He opened his mouth to say something, but Briar cut in between us.
Circling her arm around his elbow, she said, “Your home is beautiful, Your Highness.”
Grae smirked at her, glancing an apologetic look to me. “I hope it will come to feel like home for you, too, Your Highness.”
I snorted, toeing the gravel with my boot as I muttered, “Yeah, right.”
The palace was a city unto itself, nothing homey about it.
Sadie nudged me with her elbow and I looked up to see Grae and Briar already walking toward the open entryway, Hector and Maez trailing behind. I hustled to catch up.
“Prepare yourself,” Sadie muttered as we crossed the threshold.
“For what?”
“For His Majesty,” she said, shaking her bangs out of her eyes.
My stomach dropped. I had wondered for many years if King Nero was anything like Grae, but, judging by Sadie’s odious tone, I guessed not. Currying the favor of a king was an art form in and of itself, and, in that moment, I was once again glad I was spared from the pack’s attention. That job would be Briar’s alone.
Six
The inside of the palace was another world, with high vaulted ceilings, sparkling chandeliers, and stained-glass windows. Our footsteps ricocheted off the stone, my body feeling light in the entryway’s vastness. I wanted to stop and take in each column and alcove, press each gilded image into my mind, but the group was marching ahead. I took in the mosaics along the walls and frescoed ceilings. The stories Grae told me as a child were painted in every corner of his home. The snow snakes of Taigos; the curling, whip-like tongue of the juvleck; the many-tentacled ostekke of Lower Valta—images of our ancestors fighting back the monsters of old. They painted the glory of our people in one long story along the hallway, and it was inspiring to now see it depicted like this.
At the dawn of Aotreas, dark magic plagued the realm. Monsters and those turned evil by dark magic rained chaos over the continent . . . all apart from the Wolves, our packs strong enough to fight back any foe, even dark magic itself. The earliest humans pled with the Wolves of old, begging for their salvation, and the Wolves answered their prayers. The four Wolf leaders risked the safety of their own packs to fight back the scourge of dark magic and save the humans. When the last of the sorcerers fell and the Wolves forced the monsters to the very edges of the realm, thehumans rejoiced. They split up their human lands to the four pack leaders, placing crowns on their heads and erecting temples in their honor.
I glanced up to the carved, curving passage in the arch above my head:The saviors of Aotreas. The power of the pack.
The sounds of hushed voices grew as we reached the closed doors of the grand hall. My sister adjusted her posture, shoulders further back and chin held higher, if that was possible. Grae bent to whisper something in her ear, and she smiled. The sweet moment made me ache, and I knew it made me the worst sort of person. Our lives weren’t our own. We belonged to the pack, the ones who defeated the monsters now so poetically painted along the halls of this castle.
But, oh, if that weren’t the case...
The prince nodded to the doormen, and, with a creaking groan, the doors opened. Eager faces greeted us, leaning over each other and lifting on tiptoes to get a peek at the woman they long thought was dead. A sea of satin gowns and velvet jackets, intricate hairstyles and glittering jewelry—each one looked as if they could be royalty themselves. I wondered what the Silver Wolves would look like in their wolf forms. Gooseflesh rippled across my forearm at the thought. Hundreds of Wolves running through the forest... It had only ever been a dream.
Awed whispers echoed in the vast hall as they appraised Briar. The pack’s nerves thickened the charged air. Briar had been a ghost story to these people until this moment, and now she was flesh and blood—a beautiful promise of what could be.
The crowd parted to form an aisle, revealing a dais. A carved silverwood throne sat in the center, and upon it, the King presided over the crowd. King Nero Claudius was younger than I had expected, his black hair only graying at the temples and peppered through his short beard. He wore a silver chest plate carved with his phoenix crest. It molded to his torso, giving him perfectly shaped muscles that I doubted matched his actual flesh. Everything in his attire seemed designed to make him look moreformidable—wide shoulder plates, silver cuffs along his forearm, and a razor-sharp crown atop his head. It worked.
His cold eyes scrutinized Briar, examining her as she and Grae proceeded down the aisle. I bit down on my lips, wanting to snarl at his leering assessment. Instead, I kept in line with Sadie, a few paces behind the other guards. Knowing I’d do something rash if I kept observing the King’s hungry gaze, I looked around, spotting gnarled faces in the crowd—one missing an eye, another with a long scar snaking down his jaw. I wondered at their injuries—were they perhaps the result of ranking challenges? Or maybe punishments for sedition?
The latter would not surprise me—I had heard stories that skin chasers received the worst punishments, debasing themselves by indulging in human flesh. I glanced back at the one-eyed man, his lone eye staring vacantly at Briar. What was his crime? Had the King been the one to dole out his penalty?
King Nero shifted in his chair and the pack bristled, finely attuned to his every breath and action. The pack turned to face their leader, silence blanketing the room until the only sound was Grae’s and Briar’s shoes walking down the aisle.
“The Crimson Princess, Briar Marriel, daughter of the last King and Queen of Olmdere.” King Nero’s deep voice carried easily over the crowd. His many silver rings clinked against the wooden armrests as he pushed up from his throne. “The tales of your beauty don’t do you justice, Your Highness.”
Briar dropped into a deep curtsy, holding it until the King descended from the dais. My stomach jittered, knowing whatever nerves I felt, Briar must’ve felt tenfold. I focused on the air pulling through my nostrils, filling my lungs as I fought the urge to be sick. I’d never needed Vellia’s calming techniques for her conjured monsters, but this... there were more people in this one room than I’d met in my entire life. The fate of my fallen kingdom hedged on this going well.
More, this was my sister, mytwin. Subject to scrutiny and expectation, and all I could do was watch. I sucked in anothersteadying breath. I couldn’t ruin this moment. I had to trust that Briar’s training would see her through.
The King took Briar’s hand, making her rise as he lifted her knuckles to his lips. “Your parents and I had spoken joyfully of this union long before you were even born. Sameir and Rose would be so proud.” I pressed my lips together at the sound of my parents’ names. “Welcome to my court, Princess.” He placed his other hand on top of hers and looked out at his pack, addressing them directly. “The day has finally come. Together we will reclaim Olmdere and join the kingdoms forever.”
Clamorous cheering erupted, making me flinch. Some even howled to the skies.
“The Gold and Silver Wolves have always been close,” the King continued, dropping Briar’s hand to pat his son on the shoulder. “But with this union, we will be one pack.”
“For the pack!” More howls echoed around the room.
