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The city of Efra was bigger than I’d even imagined—and it was smaller now than it had been in the past. The map in the book showed Efra sprawling out across Frasia, its neighborhoods almost reaching Daybreak and the other packs. Huge. As if the city of Efra was the entirety of the continent. I smoothed my finger down the map. What had changed to shrink the city so much, and to break the land into the separate domains of the packs?
Amity and Rue arrived with breakfast, and I dismissed them just as soon as it was set up. I stayed in my pajamas as I sipped my coffee and nibbled at toast, the small tome open flat on the table beside me. There were few pleasures better in my life than a lazy breakfast and a good book.
I was only a few dozen pages into the introduction to the book and the history of author Hae Blaylock’s life when a brisk knock at the door shattered my attention. I pressed my lips together. I’d expected Barion to show up at some point, especially if he heard I wasn’t feeling well—he’d want to discuss how the sparring went, and what ways I could improve. We hadn’t debriefed yesterday so of course he’d want to this morning. With a sigh, I pulled my robe on over my pajamas and fastened the tie at the waist.
Another brisk knock. I rolled my eyes and padded over to the door, opening it with a half-hearted greeting for Barion already on my tongue.
Except it wasn’t Barion.
It was the king.
There was a strange look in his dark eyes, something distant and almost…almost sad, in a way. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, and he was dressed simply, as he always was. Like he could be an off-duty soldier on his way home instead of the King of Frasia walking his own royal halls.
“Your—Your Majesty,” I stammered.
“Lady Reyna,” he said.
I swallowed. There was still a strange intensity hovering in the air between us, but it wasn’t the tightly coiled energy from the arena. There was something else there, something that made my skin prickle with the need to be simultaneously close and far away. “What brings you here?”
“Lady Glennis informed me you weren’t feeling well,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
I blinked. Make sure I was all right? There had to be some kind of ulterior motive here…
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just tired.”
“Understandably so,” he said. I expected some sort of pithy remark, a joke or a barb—but none came.
“I just needed a bit more rest after yesterday,” I explained to fill the slightly awkward silence. “That’s all.”
“I’m relieved you’re not sick,” he said. “You didn’t seem unwell at all yesterday. You’re quite agile with a sword, for a woman.”
My confusion soured into the now-familiar irritation. “A lady,” I corrected him. “You might be surprised to find out that women can do many things. Often, we can do the same things men can do.”
The king pressed his lips together into a hard line. My sarcasm was not lost on him, that much was obvious. For a moment, he looked like he was about to say something else, to push back and argue in some way—but then he just sighed, shoulders slumping.
“Right,” he said. “Get some rest then, Lady Reyna.”
Internally, my wolf whined at the sight of the king looking so upset—she was a caretaker and wanted to surge forward to improve his mood. If he felt her close to the surface, he didn’t show it. Not even a single gleam of gold in his dark eyes. Before I could say anything else, he nodded his head curtly and walked back down the hall.
I closed the door behind him and leaned back against the cool wood with a sigh. What was that about? After all that time spent insulting me, provoking me, and teasing me, he was suddenly sincerely concerned with my well-being? But then, even as he attempted to compliment my sparring, he managed to insult me as well? For a king, he was no good at conducting himself. Every interaction I had with him only made me more confused about what he wanted from me.
My wolf’s reaction wasn’t helping, either. She was starting to have more of an influence on me than I’d like. That soft, sad look in his eyes made something in my chest pull tight. But I didn’t want to feel bad for him. I didn’t want to feel anything for him at all. Especially not anything like this—a little curious, a little warm. I thought suddenly of that moment in the arena, when his strong, callused hand had tightened around my wrist as he’d tried to pull me closer.
What if I hadn’t resisted? What if I’d let him pull me closer, until I was flush to the plane of his broad chest? How would my wolf react to that kind of closeness: sweat, warm skin, muscle, the barely there coppery scent of blood that I’d drawn myself?
I shook that thought from my head. What had gotten into me? The king was taking up far too much space in my thoughts. I glanced at Blaylock’s book. There was some engaging information there, sure, but it’d only made more questions bubble up.
Staying in this room would only cause me to get more lost in my own head, though. If I was stuck in Efra for more trials, I should at least take advantage of the resources provided. I dressed quickly in the fine outfit I’d ordered from Camille with the wide pants and the long jacket. I pulled my hair back in a loose ponytail. My wolf was still irritable, and her urge to pace and whine was already beginning to give me a mild headache. She felt off, unsafe, for some reason—was it the fact that we’d upset the king? Or shirked our duties at breakfast?
“It’s fine,” I muttered aloud, as if that would calm her down. “It’s just a day to rest.”
Except she didn’t feel rested at all. She wanted closeness, other wolves, either the handmaidens or Fina and Adora, or better yet, the king. That wasn’t happening today, though. I padded over to my dresser and pulled out the fine silver knife Barion had given me, sheathed in its leather scabbard embroidered with the Daybreak crest. Sometimes a wolf’s instincts were just a little overactive. I’d been through a lot of stress—the dinner, the sparring, and having the king show up at my door. My wolf was on high alert. Having the little knife on my person would calm her down, certainly. I slipped it into the waistband of my pants.
It worked. My wolf settled, the weight of the knife a substitute for her bared teeth, and a tangible reminder of Barion, too. Then I tucked The History of Fae in Frasia into the crook of my arm and slipped out of my room. I didn’t leave a note for Amity and Rue, but I had a feeling they’d know where to find me.
I made my way through the halls of the manor undisturbed by the occasional staff I saw in both human and wolf form. The library was just as quiet as it’d been when I’d first visited: the fire burned low in the hearth, and the lights were dim, as if the room was waiting in stasis for someone to arrive. I was grateful for the quiet, and I immediately felt soothed, relaxed, by the presence of all the unfamiliar books.
I was here for a purpose, though. I climbed the stairs to the wraparound balcony and headed directly toward the archival maps. The cartography table was still in the same place it’d been when I’d first visited, except this time, I hurried to the door near the back shelf first. Delicately, I pressed my ear to the surface of the door and listened for any sounds of activity: the scratching of a pen, an exhale of breath, soft footsteps. But I heard no noise, and my wolf was still quiet—no prickling in my nape, nothing.
