3

I wore the exhaustion of the past two months on my face. Sometimes when I looked in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself at all. With a sigh, I pulled on my fine silk underclothes, then padded back into my quarters. The girls had chosen a simple black dress for me, slinky black fabric that hugged my frame but not too tightly, with delicate straps and dark lace detailing the neckline. It was formal, but simple and comfortable—they knew my taste. Amity sighed, pleased, and then dabbed a small amount of stain on my lower lip. No full makeup tonight. I had to look nice, of course, but this was just dinner with my husband.

I tried to focus on what Fina had said. It’d be easier for us both if we could be civil. This could at least be a starting point.

The girls shifted into their wolf forms, then escorted me through the manor to the formal dining room. I was getting more comfortable with the cool silence of the place, and the familiar click of wolf claws on the polished floors. Sometimes I missed Daybreak, with its warm salty breezes and the familiar distant roar of the ocean, but the freedom I had in Nightfall made up for it. In Daybreak, I was always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next demand from the duke’s staff or a reprimand from my tutors. Here in Nightfall, I could roam the halls without interruption.

I approached the ornate door. The leather-clad guard bowed and pushed the entrance open, welcoming me inside with a murmur.

I’d never seen the formal dining room so empty. Despite the lack of people, it was still welcoming, the table dotted with low candles and the curtains drawn to create a cozy atmosphere under the vaulted ceiling. In the corner, a string trio played quietly. I was grateful for the music—it was a lot better than whatever awkward silences I knew would characterize this dinner.

Elias was seated at the head of the table, in a plain shirt worn loose at the collar, his dark hair tied back with a leather strip. A shadow of a beard dusted his jaw, and there were faint circles under his eyes. It appeared that the meetings he’d been stuck in all day had worn on him. We were quite a pair. Despite his visible exhaustion, he still looked handsome. The broad-shouldered King of Frasia worn out after another day of leadership.

As I approached, he stood up and pulled my chair out at his right-hand side. His gaze traveled over me: not with a leer, but like he was making up for lost time. Recollecting once more what I looked like. I swallowed. His hand brushed over the bare skin of my back as I took my seat, and he took his.

His eyes burned as he watched me. They lingered on my lips for a long moment, and then he seemed to snap out of it. He cleared his throat and picked up the decanter of wine in between us, pouring a glass of the rich dark liquid for each of us. It should’ve felt ridiculous, being the only two people at this big table, but it felt cozy with the empty space of the table dotted with candles, and the two of us pushed close together like it was an intimate dinner.

Internally, my wolf whined, longing to burst forth and cuddle close to Elias, soothe his exhaustion with familiar licks and nuzzles. That wasn’t going to happen, though. We could be civil, but not that close. Not yet—maybe not ever. I ignored her whines.

Two servants came out, and covered the table with fine dishes: roast chicken, vegetables, bread, and bright salad. It smelled delicious, but it wasn’t extravagant. I would almost say it was homey. Elias sighed with relief as he carved the chicken and served my plate before his own.

“Thank you for joining me, Reyna,” he said.

“Of course,” I murmured in response. I swallowed. “How were the meetings today?”

“Oh, just fine,” Elias said with a shake of his head. “I prefer seeing the generals rather than some of the other court members, at least. But the most important meetings are the most tedious.” He sighed and took a sip of his wine.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He shook his head. “You’ll see in time, I’m sure.”

“You don’t need to be so condescending,” I said.

“I’m not,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrow. “I mean the more you settle into your role as queen, the more you’ll have attend these meetings, with or without me.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

That seemed to amuse him as he cut into his chicken. “I do believe that should be a major benefit of having a partner in leadership,” he said. “Splitting the duties.”

“I suppose so.” I was surprised to hear it, though, as I did still often feel like I was nothing more than a prize he’d won. “You would trust me to handle royal business alone?”

“Certainly,” he said. “You’re smarter than most of the people on the court already.” His voice didn’t indicate flattery, but simple fact.

I felt my cheeks flush regardless. “If you say so.”

He laughed quietly. “Admittedly it’s not a hard bar to clear. But that was one of the most important traits for me in choosing a queen. Someone who can play the games leadership requires but can also improvise when necessary.”

“My improvisations don’t always seem to go over well,” I said.

“Well, you’re currently Queen of Frasia, so you seem to have turned out all right,” he said with a small smile.

“I suppose so.” I took a sip of my own wine.

That was what I wanted from him. Trust. Acknowledgment of my individual capabilities. When he spoke to me like this, it was easy to feel like we could have a future together. Like maybe I didn’t need to resist him.