41
I woke surprised to find I’d slept at all.
For hours, I’d stared at the bare wood-paneled walls, listening to Dusk sleep and the wind whistle. King Raxon’s parting words had haunted me deep into the night. Between bouts of fretting over what the new day would bring, I’d thought about Voran.
I’d thought about every interaction at the archives. Every word said, and those that weren’t. I’d thought about what the king had implied at dinner, and if it was true—if Voran was innocent. If, like me, he’d never lain with someone.
The thought alone seemed laughable. Also hardly relevant, given the future awaiting me.
While worrying about Raxon’s warning, I’d remembered how he’d looked at Dusk.
Twice, I’d left the warmth of my new bed to check I’d locked the door, and that the chair I’d taken from the table was properly wedged beneath the handle.
Evil he may be, but Raxon was no fool. He knew Dusk had come from the egg he’d sent to the isle with Voran. And now I knew, without a trace of doubt, that Voran hadn’t intended to give Dusk a better life by leaving her with me.
He’d ensured her survival until Valadorn could reclaim her when the war ended.
Perhaps Voran had known that his uncle planned to wed me. At the very least, he’d indeed known I would end up in Valadorn once they’d secured possession of the Scale Crown. He’d known, yet he’d watched me. Kissed me. Touched me.
Had it been revenge against his uncle? Did Voran loathe Raxon just as Raxon supposedly loathed Voran? Maybe he was innocent like me, and he’d sought to remedy that while away from Raxon and those who reported to him.
Whatever the reason for his actions, they sickened me.
After readying for the day, I returned the chair to the table.
Dusk’s tail flicked, her golden eyes stalking as I paced the room and fussed with my rose-red gown. An underlayer hugged my arms, allowing the velvet sleeves to gape at the wrists without the cold creeping in. The neckline dipped generously yet gave only a glimpse of my chest.
I slipped on woolen socks and ankle-length black boots. Then I selected a cloak—cream to match the lace lining the hem and neckline of my gown.
Snow had ceased falling. For now.
A blistering chill still coated the stale air of the room. I looked longingly at the small hearth. Framed in blackened rocks, it sat empty opposite the bed. The woven basket beside it contained two logs, covered in dust.
I gathered Dusk into my arms. “Might as well get some wood while we await our summons.”
But we made it halfway down the stairs before Theela found us.
Flushed, she paused on the landing. “Princess.” Stepping back, she inclined her head. “I was just coming to collect you.”
“What for?” I asked cautiously.
“The meeting,” she said.
Nervous, I followed her.
Dusk didn’t growl at the maid, but she did hiss as we joined her below the stairs. Wondering if this meeting was what Raxon had alluded to, I hushed the hatchling and asked Theela, “What is the meeting about?”
“Honestly, I cannot say.” Noting my frown, she said, “I’m rarely given details. Just orders.”
“Where is it being held?”
“The throne room, and we should hurry. I think it’s almost time.” As we crossed the stone floor to a dark hall at the front of the palace, she said quietly, “You didn’t come down for breakfast.”
Though it wasn’t exactly a question, I said, “I overslept.”
“I can bring lunch to your rooms after the meeting, if you’d prefer to eat there?”
Recalling what had been said at dinner, I peered at Theela. My stomach turned at the thought of Voran feeding from her. Ridiculous. Just like any other shifter, he needed to feed. Except remembering how it had felt to have him feed from me…
Sensing my unease, Dusk curled her neck back to squint up at me.
Despite the horrid feelings coursing through me, I couldn’t forget the way the king had treated Theela, and I couldn’t bring myself to further burden her. “That’s all right,” I said. “But do you know where I can find some wood for the fire?”
She stopped just within the shadows. “Apologies, Princess. I thought I’d prepared the hearth.” Her eyes began to glisten. “Forgive me. I’ll see to it right away.”
“No need to apologize or—”
Opening doors scraped over stone, directing my attention to the end of the hall.
Strenard grumbled, “You’ve kept us waiting, Princess.”
Rather than say I hadn’t known when or where I was expected, I said to Theela, “Thank you for escorting me.”
Swallowing, she nodded and gripped her gray skirts as she curtsied.
Strenard glowered at the retreating maid, then raised a furry brow at me. Forcing a smile, I walked past him into the throne room.
And almost stumbled at the sight of so many gold eyes.
Warriors, all of them dressed in black, lined each stone wall in neat rows. Only a small portion of this king’s might. Yet their builds, those gazes, and such stillness had me aware of every clipped breath I drew—and flinching when the doors closed.
Ahead, Raxon leaned over his throne, talking quietly with Bryken.
The steward saw me first. He tensed, hazel gaze flicking over me.
Raxon eased back onto the throne carved from the stone foundation of this palace, as formidable in appearance as rumor claimed. It also looked extremely uncomfortable, with no padding beneath or behind the king.
As I neared, I realized the dark stone brightened in places. Claw marks.
I wondered if each ruler had left their mark on this throne, and if it chafed this king to be the first who couldn’t.
Perhaps it made him proud, for the smile he wore seemed utterly genuine as I stopped before him. “How lovely a sight you are, Princess Ayla.”
Relieved that I wasn’t about to be chided for my tardiness, and in front of so many onlookers, I shifted Dusk to one arm and gathered my skirts with my free hand to curtsy. “Thank you for providing warm clothing, Majesty. You are too kind.”
“I don’t believe anyone has ever said such a thing to me.” He belted out a laugh that echoed through the cave-like room. “Am I correct?”
An avalanche of belated chuckles erupted from the wolves lining the walls.
Dusk shrieked, her claws curling into my arm.
Pain scalded. Heat rushed into my cheeks. But I straightened and smiled while trying to soothe my wyvern.
As silence settled, King Raxon slouched upon the Stone Throne. “It’s tradition for kings and queens to share this large block of rock.” He lifted a finger. “Being that we are not yet married, you will stand aside it, Princess.”
I nodded and moved to the space beside the dais.
The king then stood. “My loyal lupine leaders…” He spread his hands. “For the first time in quite some years, we have not gathered here to discuss war.”
A door I hadn’t noticed opened behind me. Perhaps because it was stone. The grumble of it moving against the floor drew every golden eye and silenced the king.
Only momentarily. As his nephew came to stand next to me, Raxon continued, “We are here to discuss my betrothed.”
Dusk growled at Voran. A wolf near him muffled a chuckle with their hand. The rest of the wolves gazed at their king with blank faces, waiting.
Dusk growled again. I covered her maw and took the opportunity to look at him.
Jaw raised and hands clasped behind his back, Voran stared straight between the rows of wolves to the throne room doors.
My chest and throat tightened. I forced my gaze to my feet. Moss crept through a crack in the stone. I stuck my eyes to it while the king spoke about something to do with tradition.
“…because my betrothed is not only a foreigner, but a princess of the kingdom who stole our late king from us, we must have her prove her allegiance to our beloved land and loyal people.”
As if they were a hook sinking into my skin, those words pulled my gaze to King Raxon.
When he looked over at me with a wolfish grin that failed to brighten his emerald eyes, trepidation danced down my spine like icy fingertips, and I knew.
This was it.
This was my punishment for intending to marry Meront in secret. For daring to attempt to thwart Raxon’s plans for me.
“The best way to achieve this is to have Princess Ayla undertake the bride trial.” Looking back upon his guests, the king said, “An ancient and rather eerie tradition, yes, but one that will display her dedication to us.”
Fear cascaded through my blood, chilling me to the bone.
Boots shifted in the quiet. Golden eyes roamed the room.
He couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t force me to marry him as a means of holding the Scale Crown, only to risk my life in some sort of trial. It didn’t make sense, and it—
“Should the princess fail to accept this challenge, then marry we will not, and this tenuous peace between the realms shall be destroyed once more.” Moments of silence dripped before Raxon addressed the room at large.
“Commanders, captains, and council members…” Opening his arms again, he asked, “Will this assuage any doubts you and our people may have?”
No one hesitated.
Every single male, and even the few females, raised their fists to their chests in unison. A chorus of, “Liege,” flooded the room.
Dusk hissed.
Dread created knots out of my innards.
“Very well,” Raxon said. Fists dropped as he sat on his throne. “The princess and I will depart for the Serakan Mountains the day after tomorrow. All going well, we will be wed the evening following the trial. Alert our warriors and lupine families.”
The throne room doors burst open.
As if she’d been impatiently waiting, Theela rushed toward the king. Though her head remained low, her blue eyes drifted to the wolf prince beside me.
My panic became so absolute that I let caution go and looked at him too.
Chin high and as still as a statue, Voran continued to stare straight ahead. But a muscle feathered in his jaw, made visible by his loose braid.
Then King Raxon laughed.
The stunted burst of sound forced my eyes to him.
“Well, we mustn’t keep important guests waiting.” Flicking his hand, Raxon ordered, “Invite her in.”
Theela hurried from the throne room.
Not a minute later, she returned with a soft, “My liege.” Stepping aside, she dipped into a low curtsy just within the doors. “Princess Celestine of Moongold.”