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The noise was muffled in my ears, as if I was suddenly plunged underwater. Distant. Separated from the chaos of the arena. The king stayed in his wolf form, howling and pacing, staking his claim around the bloodied heap of motionless fur that was, once upon a time, the man I was going to marry.
The council members, and the duchess, all looked at me for my reaction.
Well, I wasn’t going to give them one. They didn’t understand this—this wasn’t just the death of a Daybreak wolf. This was the death of the life I’d thought I’d had, and all the plans I’d had laid out in front of me. I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me upset.
I stood up briskly. “I’ll take my leave,” I said curtly, and turned on my heel before anyone respond. No more was I just a visitor for the Choice—I was the king’s fiancée.
What that meant, I still wasn’t sure.
23
When I opened my eyes, there was coffee cooling on the table in my bedroom, and a breakfast that had surely gone cold under its silver cover. For the past two days Amity and Rue had slipped in to provide meals and coffee and water, occasionally encouraging me to eat and bathe, but I rarely acquiesced. I could do nothing but sleep fitfully, tossing and turning under the heavy covers, waking up to pick at the toast left for me and wipe the tears I’d shed in my sleep.
I’d left a part of my soul on the bloody dirt of the arena, alongside the motionless heap of Griffin’s body. Our last moments together had been—harrowing, to say the least. It’d been the realization that all we’d had together was a lie. Somehow, that made the loss of that past hurt even more. Not only did I mourn the man I loved, I mourned the life we had together in Daybreak. Griffin had been my only friend. The only one who listened to me. He was my foundation in Daybreak, my hope for a different and better life.
Even if it’d all gone to shit in the end, the years we’d spent together growing up—those were real. He’d cared about me once. He’d seen me as more than just a means to an end.
And now that man was gone. I’d never see him again. He’d sacrificed our relationship and then his own life in a stupid quest for the throne. It wasn’t just our past that had died—it was our future, too.
I wasn’t leaving Efra to see the world. I was still here, in Nightfall.
Still betrothed to the Bloody King.
I sat up and pushed my hair off my face. I wasn’t quite ready to get up, not yet, but the coffee was enticing even if it was cold, and I did need to eat something.
A soft knock on the door caught my attention. I glanced over at the door, then sighed and settled back against the headboard. I didn’t want Amity and Rue to know I was awake. Eventually, I’d have to face them—there was a wedding to plan, after all—but so far they’d respected my need for privacy. At some point they’d insist I face the court, but I was putting that off as long as I could.
There was another knock on the door, sharper this time. More insistent. Maybe it was Fina or Adora, but I wasn’t quite ready to face them, either. I gazed out the window, as if I ignored the knocking enough, it’d stop all together.
That was not the case. Another series of sharp, demanding knocks. I heaved a sigh and finally stood up. Whoever was at my door wasn’t giving up. I pulled on my robe and cinched it tight around my waist, then turned toward the door.
Before I could take a step, it swung open.
The king stood at the other side of the threshold, and he looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept at all in the past two days. His tan complexion was pallid, his eyes bloodshot. He’d pulled his cloak on, but it was haphazard, unfastened and hanging loose over his broad shoulders.
“Why didn’t you answer the door?” the king said. “Are you unwell?”
I took a step back. I’d never seen the king look so unwell himself. He was typically so regal and unflappable, it was jarring to see him otherwise. And shouldn’t he be happy? He’d won the challenge, after all. I pulled my robe tighter around my shoulders.
“Answer me, Reyna.” The king stepped into my room and closed the door behind him.
The lack of honorific shocked me out of my head. No longer was I Lady Reyna—I was just Reyna. “I’m not receiving guests right now.”
He laughed, low and surprised. “’Receiving guests’? You’ve taken to your new role quite well.”
“I’m not the queen,” I shot back.
“Not yet.”
I knew that, but hearing him say it made it worse. Realer. I swallowed. “Of course I’m unwell,” I said. “You killed my friend in front of me.”
His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer, until he was nearly looming over me. I stood my ground. “Friend?” he asked. “You call that boy your friend?”
I said nothing.
“He wasn’t here to save you,” the king said. “He didn’t care about you. He wanted the throne. You were just the excuse. He wanted to tear down everything I’ve worked so hard to build—and he wanted you as the prize.”
He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t know already. I didn’t need him to tell me what Griffin had done. I knew more about that than he realized. I was too exhausted to argue with him, and I’d learned there was no point in doing so, either. He didn’t listen to me. He just made decisions and dragged me along for the ride, just like every other man in my life.
