Page 141 of Rule of Wolves

“Oh, Hanne, don’t be such a killjoy. You’re worse than one of my tutors.”

“And you are being thoughtless and cruel.”

All of the prince’s warmth vanished. “Watch your tongue, Hanne Brum. I won’t be bullied by you or your father.”

Joran said, “The fault was all mine, Your Majesty. I can only beg Enke Jandersdat’s forgiveness.”

“I tell you when to beg,” said Rasmus. “You serve no master but me.” Then suddenly he was smiling. “Oh, everyone stop glowering and be merry. I shall be good and kind and patient—just as Hanne is. Joran, go fetch us something stronger than punch to drink.”

Joran bowed and Nina clutched at Hanne’s arm, afraid that if she let go, she would chase the guard down and wrap her hands around his throat.

“Now smile for me, Hanne. Sometimes princes are cruel. It’s their prerogative.”

Hanne’s fingers tensed on Nina’s arm, but she forced herself to smile and curtsy. “Of course, Your Highness.”

I taught her that, Nina thought. I taught her to lie and feign compliance. I took a wild thing and showed her how to wear a leash. It might be pretense now, but Nina knew—act the part long enough and the show of being tame could become reality.

Hanne’s performance was enough for the prince.

He grinned, eyes twinkling. “What a pretty bride you’ll make for someone. Shall we have another dance? We can take poor Mila to sit with your mother, and Joran will be left to turn in circles with his hands full of punch glasses.”

“It would be my great pleasure, Your Highness,” Hanne said sweetly.

“There now. I’ve bent a Brum to my will. That wasn’t so hard.”

The prince laughed, but Nina could not make herself join in.

Nina left the ball early. She didn’t want to abandon Hanne, but Ylva insisted.

“I think you’ve taken ill again, Mila. Your hands are ice cold and I’ve never seen you so pale.”

She returned to her room, but she didn’t know how to make herself go through the motions of preparing for bed. She lay down on her covers, fully dressed in her silver finery. She couldn’t stop remembering the weight of Matthias’ body. She could still feel him in her arms, a burden she would carry forever. When he’d taken her hand, his fingers had been wet with his own blood.

She screamed into her pillow, needing to put this pain somewhere, anywhere. All she could hear was his voice.

I need you to save the others … the other drüskelle. Swear to me you’ll at least try to help them.

Matthias had been shot in the gut. He’d been facing his killer. He’d known who it was. A drüskelle like him. A boy, really. And that boy hadn’t been operating under orders from his commander. If Joran had been sent after Matthias, he would have been rewarded for the killing. Instead he’d been made the prince’s personal guard—a reminder that he’d disobeyed his commander, that he’d killed one of their own. But not a real punishment either. Not for murder.

There has to be a Fjerda worth saving. Promise me.

She had promised, but all Saints, she hadn’t known what that promise would demand.

The door opened and Hanne rushed in. “I got away as soon as I could.”

Nina sat up, trying to brush the hot tears from her cheeks.

Hanne threw her arms around her and pressed her forehead against Nina’s. “I’m so sorry. I’ll kill him if he hurt you. I don’t know why the prince—”

“No,” said Nina. “Joran didn’t … He didn’t make advances.”

“Then what happened?”

Nina didn’t know how to say it, how to unravel all of it. “He wronged me. Badly. I … I wanted to kill him. I still want to kill him. I told him so.”

“You threatened the prince’s bodyguard?”

Nina covered her face with her hands. All her talk about maintaining her cover, about how careful they had to be. “I did. He may go directly to your father. He knows I’m not who I’ve claimed to be.” Then a fresh bolt of fear shot through her. “Why are you back so soon? Did something happen with the prince?”