28

“I expected,” the king continued, “that you might behave more like those two. Meeting people.

Learning how things work in my pack.”

Over his shoulder, Rona and Wynona were sneering at each other. Rona had a court member on her arm, headed to the dance floor, and Wynona, despite standing next to a councilmember, looked like she was a breath away from shifting and lunging at Rona.

“Ah, Your Highness,” Fina said, “we were only—”

“Your Highness,” I cut in as my irritation grew, “would you rather we posture for dominance on the dance floor like those two?”

“Perhaps I would,” the king said.

“To think that Ladies of the Court would behave so childishly would be to insult our lineage,” I said curtly.

At my side, Adora inhaled sharply through her nose. My wolf whined internally, as my instincts fought my mind yet again.

The king made a low sound in his chest, somewhere between a growl and a laugh. The hair on my arms stood on end. He leaned closer and his eyes flashed gold—for a moment I thought he would shift right there and force me to show submission.

But then his face broke into that strangely familiar wolfish grin, showing his sharp canines. “My apologies, my lady,” he said as he straightened up. “Next time I’ll be sure to mind my business.” He turned on his heel and strode away.

“What in the gods’ names!” Fina hissed. “Are you crazy?” Adora stood there with her hands clapped over her mouth.

I blinked. I was still shot through with a strange mix of adrenaline and defiance and—something else I couldn’t quantify, heat stirring low in my gut. My wolf was confused. What was that reaction from the king? I’d intended to make him dislike me—had it backfired?

“I can’t believe you just had the King of Frasia apologize to you,” Fina said. “Oh, my days.”

“I need fresh air,” Adora said. She hurried toward the small balcony just off the ballroom, and Fina dragged me along, as well. As she tugged me across the ballroom, Barion caught my eye, then tipped his chin in wordless question. I shook my head. It made me feel better to know he’d had an eye on me while the king had spoken to us, even though I doubted there was anything he could’ve done if the king had decided to make his displeasure known.

But what would the king have done? Even before I knew who he was, when I’d been rude to him, he’d only responded with that smirky teasing. He’d been almost playful. I kept waiting for some kind of punishment to come down, and nothing happened. He just seemed… Curious. Amused. He’d intimidated me, but so far I hadn’t felt threatened at all. It was just his reputation that threatened me more than anything else.

Adora pushed open the glass doors to the balcony. The small balcony overlooked the solarium, its glass panels reflecting the endless stars overhead and the moon, peeking out from behind a cloud. The cold air shocked me, nearly burning my nostrils after the comfortable heat of the ballroom. Adora took a deep, cleansing breath, then exhaled dramatically and braced her hands on the railing of the balcony.

“What were you thinking?” Fina asked sharply. “Speaking to the king like that! That’s going to reflect poorly on all three of us, you know.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Adora said, distraught.

“He would’ve been well within his rights to smack you,” Fina said. “Or worse.”

I sank onto the narrow bench of the balcony and pulled my stole tight around my shoulders. “It’s strange,” I said. “People keep saying that.”

“What,” Fina said, “that you’re crazy?”

“That he’s dangerous,” I said. I thought back to our previous encounters and my brow furrowed.

“But I haven’t seen him behave like that at all. Or anything even suggesting that.”

“Well, they don’t call him the Bloody King for nothing,” Adora said. “I wouldn’t push your luck.” “I’m not pushing my luck, I’m just…” I pressed my lips together. What exactly was I doing? Trying to reconcile the man with his reputation? Trying to figure out what exactly he wanted to get out of the Choice? What did that amused expression on his face mean?

Before I could explain myself, a loud clatter rang out from the ballroom, then shouts and gasps.

My wolf jolted to attention, and the three of us rushed back inside.

The sight that greeted us made me stop dead in my tracks. The band had ceased playing, and the room was still. At the doors, two guards in their wolf forms stood with hackles raised and long teeth bared in a snarl. The guests stood still. A woman dropped her glass of wine, and it shattered on the tiles, spilling red across the floor. In the center of the room the king gripped a court member by the throat. It was one of the men who had been seated at the end of the table, laughing riotously during the fine dinner.

The king’s hand was immense on the man’s scrawny neck, tan against his pale flesh, his nails digging into the skin. The man gripped the king’s wrist desperately, tugging at it helplessly. He didn’t even seem to notice.

“Let this be a reminder to you all,” he boomed. His deep voice echoed around the room, effortlessly commanding attention, even with his gaze fixed firmly on the court member’s face. “I may be entertaining this Choice for the benefit of my pack and the Kingdom of Frasia, but my participation in these traditions does not mean I have gone soft.” He bared his teeth in a frightful expression that was half-smile and half-snarl. His eyes glowed golden—he was closer to wolf than man. “I will not tolerate traitors such as Lord Cazzell in my court. Treason will not be met with trials or imprisonment as in courts past. To betray Nightfall is to forfeit your life.”

“Your Highness,” the man gasped. His red face was swiftly turning blue. “Please—no—”

“How dare you speak,” the king snarled. He gripped the man’s neck tighter and lifted him up. His toes now barely touched the floor. The man writhed in his hold, twitching desperately and clawing at his arm.

Then, with a simple snap of his wrist, the king broke his neck.

I gasped in horror, disbelief and disgust racing down my spine like ice.