48

“Wine, milady?” a passing servant asked. He had a single glass of fine, pale liquid on a carrying tray, unlike the other servants passing by with full ones. I took it gratefully and the servant swept away.

I could try to forget, but my wolf couldn’t. Mate.

The king couldn’t really overrule the council, could he? Certainly they’d want Adora. There was no way whatever strange tension was between the king and me would outweigh the real, tangible power the Starcrest coffers and resources would bring to Nightfall.

Fina cleared her throat.

I blinked back into the present.

“Milady?” an unfamiliar man asked, with a tone that suggested he had already said this once or twice before. He was taller than me, with dark hair and a stern, barely lined face, in a dark military dress uniform that had a heavy cape. “Pardon me for interrupting.”

“Ah.” I took a sip of my wine. “Beg your pardon.”

Fina and Adora delicately took their leave, leaving me alone with the stranger. It was the proper thing to do, etiquette-wise, but I immediately missed the security of their presence. Even at the balls in Daybreak, no one ever approached me to dance—or even talk. The only person I ever danced with was Griffin, and even then, getting him on the dance floor was like pulling teeth. A pang of guilt swooped through me. I’d hardly thought of Griffin at all since I’d been here—and when I did, his memory often came up short. I supposed the novelty of travel still outweighed what was waiting back in Daybreak for me. Things would be better between us once we left Daybreak for good.

“I’m Cyran of Nightfall,” he said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” I said, taking another sip of the wine. He offered no other information about his ranking, but my gaze fell to his chest, where his uniform sparkled with medals. “Are you a soldier in the king’s army?”

“Yes,” he said. “A general, in fact.”

“Wow.” I hoped I sounded suitably impressed. “You’ve trained your soldiers well.”

Cyran smiled and extended his hand. “While I appreciate the compliment, I’d much rather talk about you.”

I set my wine glass down with only the dregs left in the bottom. The music picked up, louder and more upbeat than it had been before. It wasn’t quite the riotous jig they’d played at the last ball, but it was certainly faster than what I was used to—but strangely, I found I wasn’t that intimidated. I wasn’t the Ice Princess here. I could be a Lady of Daybreak of my own design. Representative of my pack— and of myself.

I glanced up at the dais, but the king was nowhere to be found. My wolf whined plaintively, but being in the presence of this strong shifter soothed some of her anxiety.

Cyran guided me to the center of the dance floor. Around us, dark gowns swept across the floor like storm clouds. Fina and Adora had found dance partners, too. Cyran set his hand at my waist and took my left hand in his right. With his posture military-straight, he began to lead me in a brisk but elegant box step, easy to follow and forgiving if I took the wrong step.

“How have you found Nightfall, milady?” I asked.

The dance was quick enough that I felt swept along by him, that the rest of the crowd seemed to melt away around us. “It’s lovely,” I said.

A smile curled his lips. “Yes? Even with the complications from the competitor who was chosen by lottery?”

I swallowed. Fairly brazen of him to bring that up first thing—especially when I’d been doing my best to not think about it at all.

“There are complications during any inter-pack negotiations,” I said easily. “Regardless of any surprises, I’m having a lovely time with the other competitors.”

“I saw the three of you chatting like old friends,” Cyran said. “I confess it wasn’t quite what I expected, since you are in fact competing.”

The song picked up, a bit louder, a bit faster, and Cyran guided us easily as we swirled around the dance floor. The noise and the speed made my head spin a little, and I stumbled a bit to keep up.

Cyran didn’t seem to notice, his hand on my waist guiding me into the steps.

“They’re lovely girls,” I said. “I won’t be the winner anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

He raised an eyebrow. My blood roared in my ears. Why had I just said that? The words had slipped out unexpectedly.

“I didn’t think you the type to have such low self-esteem,” Cyran said.

“Ah,” I said. I fumbled to get the conversation back on track, and I blinked, peering at the medals adorning his chest as my headache worsened. “You’re a general,” I said, even though this was obvious. But I shouldn’t have said I wasn’t going to win to someone as high-ranking as a general. That had been uncharacteristically careless of me.

“Yes,” Cyran said, his grin widening.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” I said. The dizziness was worsening, and spinning around to the fastpaced music wasn’t helping.

Cyran just laughed, then pulled me into a spin. I would’ve fallen if not for his slightly too-firm grip on my hand. Nausea turned my stomach, and this time it wasn’t just the anxiety.

“Please,” I said. “I don’t feel well. You must excuse me.”

Finally, we stopped dancing. Unfortunately for me, the room kept spinning around me. Cyran kept one hand on my shoulder, steadying me. “Milady?”

I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze, but I didn’t hear a whole lot of pity in his tone. I said nothing more as I let him lead me back to one of the small tables at the edge of the room and guide me into a seat.

“I’ll fetch you some water,” he said.