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“Reyna.”
“—and I know we’ve just had a few pups turn eighteen, but I believe we should try to send someone a bit older just to ensure she can hold her own—”
“Reyna.”
“—since diplomatically we want to be sure that Nightfall approves of our submission—”
“Reyna!” my father barked. He slammed his hand on the desk hard enough to send a seal across the floor.
The ferocity in his voice cut my voice off mid-sentence. I straightened up sharply in my chair, breath caught in my throat.
His brown eyes burned gold as he snarled at me, baring his teeth in a display of dominance. His nails lengthened and dug into the surface of the desk. It wasn’t even close to a full shift, but it was a rare display of how close he kept his wolf to the surface. It sent a cold ripple of anxiety down my spine.
I knew my father shifted more than I did—he shifted every full moon, like many wolves in the Daybreak pack. That was the general way in Daybreak. We shifted as a necessity, not for pleasure or play like the animalistic wolves of Nightfall did. I chose to keep my wolf closer to my heart. I didn’t need to shift, not even on the full moon.
But rarely did my father use his wolf to prove a point as he did now.
He sat back. His eyes still gleamed faintly gold, even as his teeth and nails shrank back to normal as if nothing had happened. “You will be participating in the Choice as the suitor from Daybreak.”
“What?” I balked. “But, my lord—”
“No arguments!” he barked again.
I bit my tongue.
“In three days, you will travel to Efra for the Choice.” He slid the letter across the desk and dutifully, I took it. “You will represent Daybreak well. And you will win.” He sat heavily back into his chair and folded his arms over his chest. He stared off into the middle distance, nodding to himself. “And then Daybreak will return to the throne.”
I swallowed. “My lord—”
“You’re dismissed,” he said.
“Sir, please—”
“Dismissed!” he barked, baring his teeth at me again.
I nearly leaped to my feet, then nodded once and hurried out the door, closing it behind me. I took a moment to gather myself, taking a few steadying breaths in the cool darkness of the hallway. At least there was no Vuk. Thank the gods for small favors. I eased the death grip I had on the letter before I wrinkled it beyond all recognition.
As I hurried back up the stairs, my thoughts turned back to the bright, sunny study that my father had not used in my lifetime.
If I was in Efra, would he finally return to it?
He’d spent my entire life trying to pretend I didn’t exist. I was nothing but a reminder of his regrets: the wife he’d lost, and the male heir he didn’t have. Apparently sending me to the King’s Choice was potentially a two-birds-with-one-stone situation. If I won, I’d live my life in Efra, away from him, and Daybreak would enjoy more power in Frasia by having access to the king’s court. If I lost, he could lower my status in the court without raising any eyebrows. Either way, he’d be rid of me.
If my mother was alive, would he still be sending me away like this? Would he ever want to send his child to the Court of the Bloody King?
I shook off that thought. No point wondering about things that never were. I moved briskly through the halls toward my chambers. My room was near the top of the manor, overlooking the sea. It wasn’t too big, but it was enough for a lady to take care of herself. Despite that, I did spend more time in the library than I did in my chambers.
I sat down at my vanity and, with some trepidation, unfolded the invitation letter.
There was nothing ominous about the letter—nothing that would suggest it had come from the Bloody King himself. It was a simple invitation, requesting that the Daybreak Pack send a suitor to compete in the Choice to become the Queen of Frasia. There wasn’t anything in the letter that might’ve helped me plan for it, like logistics, length, or even the events that would be held as part of the Choice.
If it was anything like King Constantine’s, it’d be quite the affair. The Choice wasn’t just a way for the king to find a queen—it was a way for him to build a reputation. If the king was wise, he’d make this a spectacle. It’d be a gift to the citizens of Efra and any Frasians who wanted to travel to witness it, with weeks of feasts and dancing and celebrations.
The contesting women would be the center of it. Not only would we be competing for the king’s affections—we’d be competing to win the hearts of the pack and all the wolves the king ruled over.
Diplomatically, it was a good idea. If I were to take the throne, Daybreak would gain a much-needed boost in power, and my skills would benefit Nightfall in softening their reputation as bloodthirsty, savage wolves.
I huffed and shoved the letter in a drawer. Unfortunately for my father and for the king, I wasn’t going to be winning this competition.
