2

I paused and glanced at my reflection in the mirror hanging above the fireplace in the library. My father preferred not to look at me at all, but when he did, it was easier if I looked presentable. I tucked the strands of white-blonde hair that escaped from my long plait out behind my ears and removed my reading glasses, meeting my own sharp blue eyes in the mirror. There were ink stains on my fingertips, but luckily I hadn’t gotten any on my white linen shirt and long brown skirt. My father would’ve preferred if I’d worn a bit of jewelry to show my rank. But that was his fault for summoning me on a day when I didn’t have any court responsibilities scheduled.

Vuk cleared his throat.

“I don’t need an escort, Vuk,” I said.

“It’s my duty to ensure you make this appointment safely,” Vuk said. This meant he thought I was going to run off to the market square by the docks instead of to my father’s study. Which was, honestly, not an unreasonable assessment. I sighed and followed Vuk out of the library.

Daybreak Manor was a vast, beautiful building, built of stone and wood with vaulted ceilings and windows often flung open to let in the ocean breeze and sunshine. The manor stood high on a hill above the port, just a short ride from the marketplace and the beautiful seafront town. The port was always bustling with ships coming in from all over the world, as well as carts and travelers from all of Frasia.

It was autumn. The rainy season had just ended, and the air was crisp with the promise of cold weather. Cold in Daybreak meant the townspeople would need to wear a shawl alongside their broad-rimmed straw hats to protect from the powerful sunshine. Before I was born, my father’s study was on the top floor of the manor. Despite how warm it got in that room in the summer, he’d enjoyed looking out over the sea as he worked.

That had all changed after my birth.

With Vuk behind me, I descended the narrow stone staircase to the lowest level of the manor. My father had moved his study into the basement. He said he preferred the cooler temperature in his old age. I knew it was more than that. He couldn’t stand to see life go on in the town below when his own life had ground to such a painful halt. When his wife died while bearing me, his reason for living died as well. I was nothing more than a memory of the woman he’d lost.

It was fine. I’d learned long ago to stop trying to make him actually care about me. We kept our distance from each other, even at court functions. At this point, twenty-five and long past being a lonely little girl, I found it more ridiculous than anything else. What was the point of being in a pack if you still spent all your time alone?

As we approached the wooden door to my father’s study, Vuk nudged me aside to knock on the door first. “My lord,” Vuk said, “The Lady Reyna, per your request.” “Enter,” my father said, muffled through the door.

I scowled at Vuk, then opened the door and marched inside, leaving him in the hall. He could wait for me or, preferably, go lurk around whatever halls he occupied when my father didn’t need him running errands.

“You asked for me?” I stood in front of his desk with hands clasped neatly in behind my back.

For a moment, it seemed like my father didn’t even hear me. His office looked like a hurricane had swept in off the coast and run through it. His desk was enormous, even bigger than the table I used in the library, but every inch of it was covered in papers and books and ripped-open envelopes and dried seals and dirty mugs and broken quill pens. The room was dim and without windows. The only light came from the candles peppering the overstuffed bookshelves and a handful on his desk. I liked to keep my spaces organized and well-managed—my father’s tendency toward hoarding and mess always grated my nerves. I was glad I rarely had to spend any time in this cave of a study.

The man behind the desk didn’t look any better. His dark hair was vaguely unkempt, and his complexion, which was usually tan from his duties in town, had paled slightly with the time spent in his study. He looked haggard—and frailer than I’d ever seen him.

“Lady Reyna,” he said, as if I was a random court member instead of his own daughter. “Please,

sit.”

It was just a courtesy. We both knew this conversation would move as quickly as possible. I sat down in the straight-backed wooden chair anyway.

He rifled through his papers for a long moment, frustration pinching his features, before he finally uncovered the piece of parchment he was searching for. He smoothed it out and cleared his throat. “I’ve received a notice from the king’s court in Efra.”

Official business then. Some of my nerves eased. Likely we’d have to host a trade convoy or something, and I’d be expected to turn on the charm. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He peered at the paper, then his brow met mine. “King Elias is holding a King’s Choice Tournament to choose a new bride.”

It was only my extensive schooling in etiquette that kept my mouth from dropping open in shock. “A King’s Choice? There hasn’t been a Choice in nearly—”

“A hundred years, yes,” the duke said darkly. “As it happens, the last Choice was held by your grandfather, Constantine.”

“Certainly, they’ve fallen out of fashion,” I said.

“Pack Nightfall continues to revive the old ways,” my father said. “First Drogo takes the throne by force, and now his son is so incapable of diplomacy he resorts to a competition to find a bride. Elias is a fool.” He shook his head with disdain.