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“Mmf,” Barion grunted as he eased into wakefulness in the afternoon. “Ah, we must be close. There’s that cold weather the Nightfall wolves love so much.”
“It’s too cold,” I huffed. “This coat isn’t enough.”
“I told you to put on the thicker socks this morning,” Barion said.
I sucked my teeth. I was dressed to travel and also to make an entrance at Efra, somewhere between comfort and formality. The simple dark gown and heavy cotton skirt had been uncomfortable earlier in the day but now I was grateful for its warmth. I’d tucked the pendant Griffin had given me into my trunk this morning. I didn’t want anyone in Nightfall to ask about it. Instead, I’d worn my simple silver jewelry, a necklace and rings, just in case anyone doubted my status.
“Here,” Barion said as he rummaged through his canvas bag. “I brought a pair for you.”
I bit back a smile. “You think of everything, don’t you?”
“It’s what your father pays me for,” Barion said with a wink. He handed me a pair of wool socks, and I quickly unfastened my boots to pull them over the thin cotton I’d thought would be adequate. “Really, though, this is the kind of weather your family comes from,” Barion said. “I’d think you’d enjoy it.”
I scoffed. “Why would that be the case? I’ve never even visited the Starcrest pack.”
“Well, likely you will if you’re chosen to be the king’s betrothed,” Barion said. “The pack’s territory is just across that mountain range there.” He pointed out the window, toward the snowy peaks rising just over the horizon. “It’s even colder there.”
“I do enjoy the cold,” I said, “as long as I’m indoors, with a fire and a bath.”
Barion laughed. “Well, I guess you are more Daybreak than Starcrest.”
An hour later, we had reached the gates of Efra, after traveling through miles of fields and farms tended by hardy wolves in warm clothing. I’d seen the city on my maps, and I’d seen detailed sketches done by convoys we’d sent over the past two centuries. But the drawings could never have prepared me to see the city up close.
The city was walled in pale stone, shot through with gleaming crystal that caught the sunlight and glittered. The wall itself was low, an added defense against attackers—one that hadn’t stopped King Drogo when he’d come to take the crown—but it didn’t hide the soaring buildings behind it, built in wood and that same pale stone. The wall was patrolled by guards in leather armor and heavy fur cloaks, and two of them pushed the immense wooden gate open at Barion’s booming greeting.
Daybreak was rustic, stone and wood and thatched roof and heat, and Efra was its elegant opposite.
The coach rolled through the gates. The hard-packed roads were bustling with activity, taverns and inns and shops and cafes, and they were patrolled by soldiers in that same leather armor. The air smelled cold and smoky. I itched to hop out of the coach and walk on foot, to see the details of the city up close. Barion seemed to realize that, too, and he shot me a look.
“The manor’s in the center of the city,” he said. “Sit tight until then.”
We made our way through the bustling streets, until we reached another low wall with a final gate. This one was gleaming silver and ornately designed, so delicate the bars looked like spider webs. They were wound together to illustrate two wolves with their heads tipped back, howling at the sky.
Barion’s expression soured. “The king’s not taking care of this property,” he said, low. “The state of this place…”
The manor wasn’t in disrepair, exactly, but it did look neglected. It was bigger than the Daybreak Manor, built of wood and pale stone, with soaring turrets and massive stained-glass windows like a church—except even through the glass the curtains were visible. Why put curtains over stained glass? The garden was slightly overgrown, and there were no lights in the windows I could see. It was a beautiful structure, just cold, and dark. I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders as we approached.
The manor door swung open, and a tall, broad-shouldered woman in an uncomplicated gray dress and heavy black cloak stepped out onto the road. She had a book tucked into the crook of her arm, and her dark hair was streaked with silver, tied into a functional bun at the top of her head.
“Welcome,” she called.
Barion shot me a look that said wait, and then stepped out of the coach first.
“Lady Glennis,” he said warmly, offering her a short bow. “You look beautiful as always.”
Lady Glennis rolled her eyes. “Welcome, Barion. I trust you’ve brought Daybreak’s suitor for the King’s Choice?”
“Of course,” Barion said. He strode to the door of the coach. “May I present the Lady Reyna of the Court of Daybreak.”
I stepped out of the coach carefully, still feeling a little achy and restless from the long coach ride. But I wanted to impress the Lady Glennis—I wanted to represent Daybreak well. I kept my shoulders square and chin up as I approached the lady, and then swept into a careful curtsy.
“Thank you for welcoming us,” I said. “I am honored to be here as the representative of the Court of Daybreak.”
She gave me a once-over, her expression neutral and unreadable. I felt like an animal on display at the marketplace as an experienced farmer decided if the livestock was worth purchasing.
“I’m Lady Glennis,” she said. “I’ll be the matron of the Choice. You may come to me with any questions or concerns as we proceed through the ceremonies.”
“I do hope we haven’t missed the welcoming meal,” Barion said.
