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I clapped my hands over my mouth. Griffin—Griffin, you moron. Did he think this would work? That somehow he could ride in and ‘rescue’ me? This was not a game. This was the Bloody King of Frasia.
He stormed toward the door.
“Wait,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Wait, Elias—”
He turned on his heel to face me, and his wolf surged to the surface. His teeth elongated, eyes burning gold; even his claws lengthened in a sudden threat as he slashed his hand through the air like he was waving off an irritating fly.
“You will not use that name with me,” he snarled. “You will refer to me as Your Majesty.”
My knees quivered. “I should’ve known,” I whispered. “I should’ve known this all meant nothing to you.”
He turned away. “I only have so much patience,” he said with his back to me. “I’d be careful what you say.”
The door to his quarters slammed shut behind him. I put my face in my hands as I sank down, sliding down the wall until I was seated on the floor with my knees pulled toward my chest. I pressed my forehead into my knees, making myself small. I could hardly think through the pounding in my head and the nausea in my gut, and my wolf whining with despair in my chest. My wolf wanted to be with the king—with Elias—and I ached with frustration and disbelief knowing Griffin was being hauled into the throne room.
The door opened, and then sharp claws clicked their tell-tale sound against the polished hardwood floor of the quarters. I lifted my head. An immense, dark wolf of Nightfall stood in the bedroom doorway, his yellow eyes gleaming as he watched me. He didn’t have to shift for me to know this was my escort. The king wouldn’t even escort me himself.
I hauled myself to my feet. The throne room was waiting.
I followed the guard through the halls. Each step made the circumstances feel more real, and I felt more hopeless. More ridiculous. Here I was, in my wrinkled silk dress with no underwear beneath it, my hair a tangled mess, being walked toward the throne room like a disobedient teenager, instead of the Lady of the Court I was supposed to be.
Was there any worth in being a Lady of my Court, anyway? All the work I’d done in this Choice to maintain my pack’s reputation had gone out the window. Griffin had made sure of that.
But that shouldn’t be a death sentence. Griffin had to have known how this would end.
Right? He wouldn’t be so foolish. That wasn’t the man I left in Daybreak. A man who didn’t think I could handle myself—who thought I needed to be rescued. Who would toss aside all the diplomatic work I’d done here?
At the door to the throne room, the guard shifted back into his human form, fully uniformed in his leather armor. He gripped my upper arm, as if I were a prisoner, and walked me in through the side entrance to the throne room.
The side entrance opened near the dais, where the king sat atop his throne with his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, looking halfway between bored and disgusted. He was flanked by Nightfall guards, in both human and wolf form, all with their attention focused ahead.
Focused on Griffin.
He stood facing the throne, in his fine steel breastplate that didn’t have a nick on it. His dark red hair was combed back, and his eyes blazed with determination. He had two Daybreak guards with him, neither armed—the guards by the doors had taken their halberds. They were flanked by heavily armed Nightfall guards lest they try something foolish. With the flush high on his cheeks and the tense line of his shoulders, I had a feeling he might.
The side door opening caught Griffin’s ear. His eyes widened. “Reyna!”
Instinctively, he surged forward, as if to run to me, only to be stopped by the Nightfall guards lowering their weapons like a gate in front of him. He burned with desperation, so much I saw his eyes flash clay-red as his wolf surged to the surface.
I clenched my hands into fists again to keep from running toward him. I’d been so angry he’d done this, but now, seeing him, I could see the desperation and the despair in his expression—and I missed him. I missed the ease and comfort of our relationship. I wanted to embrace him. I wanted all of this to be over, to go home to Daybreak, where I knew who I was and what I wanted.
“So tell us why you’ve come here, Griffin of Daybreak,” the king said from his throne. He sounded bored. “You’ve interrupted my Choice enough as it is.”
“I’ve come to free Reyna from this farce,” Griffin said. “Daybreak wolves are not to be traded and tested like livestock.”
“Is that what you think this is?” the king asked, his eyebrows raised idly. “You compare the future Queen of Frasia to livestock?”
Griffin’s flush deepened. “The Lady Reyna does not belong to you,” he said, so low it was almost a growl. “She belongs with me.”
“Is that so?” The king cut his gaze toward me, and that wolfish smirk appeared on his face. This time, it didn’t confuse or interest me—it scared me. “And what would you do to keep her, Griffin of Daybreak?”
“Please,” I cried out. “Griffin, just go. Just leave.”
He didn’t know what he was getting into. He didn’t know what the king could do to him—what I’d seen him do.
“Go?” Griffin furrowed his brow. “Reyna, I came here for you. I’m not leaving without you. You think I can return to Daybreak knowing you’re trapped here with this brute?”
The king rumbled a low laugh.
