73

“When I was leaving, he woke up. I couldn’t let him see the scales, so I told him I was just…checking on him. That I wanted to see him.”

Elias nodded.

“He invited me into his bed. I told him to wait until he was better rested, since he was so injured and exhausted. Hoping to the gods that the spell worked so I wouldn’t have to see that promise through.” I propped my chin on my knees. “He demanded a kiss, and I gave it.”

“You kissed him,” Elias growled.

I nodded. I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“That foul beast,” he said. Rage radiated off him in waves. “I can only hope the Fae queen keeps him alive so I can slaughter him myself for what he did.”

“Can I ask you something?” I asked.

The anger was still palpable in the air, but he nodded.

“When I was in his room, I had a knife on me,” I said. “To pry the scales he was shedding off. And when I was done and I had them, there was a moment when I had the knife in my hand and I realized I could slit his throat. Right there. I was trying to decide if I could do it, but then he woke up.”

Elias said nothing.

“What should I have done?” I asked. “What’s worse? Would it be easier for you if I had slit his throat in his sleep? Or kissed him to escape?”

Still he was silent, his eyes fixed on me.

“Had I killed him, Corinne and I would’ve escaped immediately,” I said. As I calculated what would have happened next, the implication dawned on me. “The wolves would’ve still been in Frasia.”

They would’ve been there, still battling to take the castle, worn out and nearly pushed back—and Corinne would’ve emerged and stomped on them like ants.

“Why did you hesitate?” he asked. There was no anger in his voice, just curiosity.

“I’m not an assassin,” I said. “I’m a fighter, but I’m not an assassin. I don’t know, I just—I wasn’t ready. I didn’t consider it until I was standing there with the knife in hand. If he hadn’t woken up, I think… I think I would’ve. So answer me.” I pressed my lips together. “Would you have preferred that? For me to have murdered the dragon king in his sleep?”

Elias took my wrist, peeling my arms away from where it was wrapped around my knees. He tugged me forward, maneuvering me until I was straddling his lap, my thighs astride him. I kept my hands at his shoulders as he held my waist, gazing up into my face with grave, gold-flecked eyes.

“I would’ve,” he said.

Something in my heart shattered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted—did I expect him to tell me I’d made the right decision? I wanted to defend myself, to say it would’ve been wrong to kill the king like that: dishonorable, cowardly. But perhaps it was more cowardly to let him live. More dishonorable to kiss those lips.

I expected Elias to grow frustrated again, but he just leaned close and put his lips on my neck.

“Killing with purpose is not something to be done lightly,” he said. “It changes you.”

“I was afraid,” I whispered to him. His lips felt so soft on my neck, so possessive. He pressed his teeth there too, gently, like a shadow of a bite.

“I am a warrior,” he said. “My queen should be a warrior, too. But that takes time.”

I closed my eyes, face still tipped to the ceiling. Worse than his jealousy was the sense that I’d disappointed him. That he would’ve been thrilled to know I’d slit the king’s throat.

I wanted to be that queen. I wanted to be strong, and diplomatic, and independent, and fearless when need be.

“I will be,” I murmured. “I promise, Elias, I will be.”

His grip tightened on my waist. I wasn’t sure if he believed me, but some of the tension had left his body. He kissed me, a soft kiss on my sternum, close to my heart.

“Come,” he said. “We should get ready for dinner.”

The meal that evening was boisterous: full of laughter and beer and simple, filling food, braised lamb and dark bread and potatoes roasted to perfection. It was dim and loud in the room, with wolves seated and laughing along the wooden benches, with me tucked by Elias’ side. Even though the town was unfamiliar, it felt like home here. I knew things weren’t completely settled between us, but the foundation was there. It was good to see Elias smile and laugh, and let me wipe the beer froth from his upper lip. The warmth in the room, and in his eyes, was enough to make me believe that we’d make it through this.

Somehow.

24

T

he next morning we rose early, with the sun, and made our way down the stairs to the main room of Thaddeus’ home. The table was still laid out from dinner before, but now only Thaddeus, his general, and the servants were there. It was strange to see attendants eating at the same table as their leader, but things were different in Siena.

Elias and I had just taken our place at the quiet table to partake in coffee and warm oatmeal sweetened with honey, when a youngster pushed open the door, flooding the room with early morning light.

“Sorry, milord,” the boy said, “there’s word from Efra.”

He stepped out of the way, and Kodan loped through the door in her immense wolf form. Her coat was dirtied, and her paws were coated in mud, leaving tracks as she walked with her head held low. Her eyes were bloodshot. She looked exhausted.

“General,” Elias said. “Is everything all right?”

Kodan padded to the table, then exhaled hard. She shifted with some effort back into her human form. Her leather armor was dirtied, and her hair was pulled back into a tight, functional plait. She all but collapsed into a seat at the table with us.

“Did you run all night?” I asked.