30

“It’s how he rules,” Barion said. “Cazzell drunkenly revealed that he’d been embezzling some of

Nightfall’s moonstone and cutting under-the-table deals with the traders from Shianga.”

“And that’s cause for execution?” I demanded. “It’s a trade dispute!”

“It’s like he said.” Barion sipped his coffee. “He wanted to make an example of it, to prevent anyone else from trying anything similar.”

“I bet he’s just pissed he has to hold this Choice at all,” I huffed. “He’d probably be happier running around in the woods slaughtering deer.” “Oh, I’m sure he makes time for that,” Barion said. I gaped at him.

“I’m kidding,” Barion said, laughing. “He’s busy with his kingly duties. Is it just the execution that’s got you so wound up? I thought you’d be expecting behavior like that, what with how worried you were about your imagined punishment.”

I sighed and stepped behind the dressing screen. The tailor had sent four outfits, including the one I’d requested at the shop. Two were gowns and two had trousers. For today’s trial, I decided on one of the outfits with trousers—a different fit than the one I’d tried on in the shop. It was a simple dark teal bodice, embroidered with light blue, and matching dark, fitted trousers more similar to menswear than womens. Over that I wore a knee-length skirt, except the skirt opened in the front, allowing full freedom of movement while still maintaining my modesty.

I’d never worn anything like this. My father never would’ve allowed me to wear trousers, not even when sparring with Barion.

“Speak up, pup,” Barion prompted.

“Ugh,” I said as I tugged the trousers on. “You saw him.”

“What part?”

“He sniffed me.”

Barion chuckled. “Indeed he did.”

“That’s so invasive!” I tugged the bodice on over my head and fastened the clasps on the front. Camille had really thought of everything—I didn’t need a handmaiden to put this on. “And embarrassing! Right in front of all the court members? Why would he do such a thing? It was so disorienting.”

“Hm,” Barion said. “Maybe he likes you.”

I said nothing. Barion knew this was not my ideal situation, but he didn’t know I was actively trying to lose. He probably said that to quell my nerves. Yet all it did was send a bolt of terror through me. Any curiosity I’d started to develop about the king had swiftly gone out the window after last night. His amusement and playfulness were clearly just a front to get the contestants to let down their guard.

“Well, that’s one way of showing it,” I muttered.

I stepped out from behind the dressing screen. “What do you think?”

Barion raised his eyebrows but then nodded. “Quite functional. How does it feel?”

I spun on one foot then kicked in the air. “Functional,” I said with a grin. “I think it’ll help me today.”

“I doubt you’ll need help,” Barion said. “Not with the training I’ve given you.” “Usually, I’d agree with you, but we’ve both seen Wynona’s arms,” I said.

“Hmm. Good point.”

I sighed and smoothed down the skirt over my thighs, then joined Barion at the table to sip my coffee. “It just put me off-balance,” I admitted. “Being so close to the king in that form…” “Your wolf was interested?” Barion asked.

I nodded, even as my face flushed. “You know I don’t like to feel out of control.”

“You need a shift,” Barion said. “A run would do you a world of good. You’re dealing with a lot of stress.”

Out of the question, I didn’t say. Gods know where my wolf would end up taking me.

“Just keep an eye on the king for me, please,” I said. “I’m worried about him losing control again.”

Barion watched me carefully for a long moment, then nodded. “You know I’m always looking out for you, milady. I’ve brought something for you.”

I blinked. “A gift? From Barion himself? The man who is even vehemently against celebrating birthdays?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not a gift. It’s a tool.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a long, thin knife, sheathed in a dark leather scabbard. The hilt was small, with a narrow guard inlaid with moonstone. He withdrew the blade from the sheath.

“Wow.” I leaned closer to peer at the thin, gleaming weapon. “That’s gorgeous—the craftsmanship is so delicate.”

He nodded. “Had it made special.” I reached out and he snatched it away. “Don’t touch the blade.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Enchanted?”

“No,” he said. “Just sharp. Trust me, and keep it sheathed when you don’t need it. I only wanted you to have something to protect yourself, ever since you mentioned what happened with the king.”

Barion didn’t pull the ‘trust me’ card often. When he did, I knew he meant it. So I nodded in agreement, and only then did he hand the knife over hilt-first.

“Thank you,” I said softly. Barion did always look out for me. If he thought there was a reason I needed to keep a knife around, it wasn’t unfounded. Even if I thought he was being paranoid, it was better to be too paranoid than not careful enough.

And the conversation did make me feel better—less like I was running blindly into the wolf’s jaws, for lack of a better term. I couldn’t go on a shifted run, and I didn’t have anyone to attack with the knife, but surely I’d feel better after this trial. I always felt better after I got to swing a sword around.

I arrived at the solarium for breakfast in slightly better spirits. The coffee had helped, as had Barion’s promise that he’d keep an eye on things. It just made me feel better to know I wasn’t dealing with all this alone.