50

My head pounded, my heart raced, sweat beaded on my forehead. My senses began to heighten:

smell first, as the smell of booze and sweat began to permeate my senses. Not just sweat—the king’s sweat. The way he’d smelled in the arena. I could smell it now, and my nostrils flared.

The duchess looked at the king, and he nodded once. Curt and quick. Under the careful gazes of the council, I felt like I was about to be walked to the gallows.

“Majority wins,” Lady Marin said in a cold voice. “Lady Reyna progresses to the final round.” The final round—the last two contestants in the Choice.

The king’s eyes gleamed gold as he watched me. Like there wasn’t anyone else in the room.

That’s when it happened.

My wolf surged to the surface. I was weakened from whatever had happened, exhausted from the trial, and desperate to know what in the gods’ names the council was talking about. I couldn’t hold her back anymore. I clapped my hands over my mouth as my canines elongated, and my vision sharpened; from the king’s expression, I knew my eyes had flashed silver.

No, no, no, I begged her internally, though I already knew it was a lost cause. Not now. Not like this.

The king stood up.

I leaped from my chair and rushed for the door. As soon as I pushed it open, my wolf sprang free.

14

barreled out of the small side room and into the crowded ballroom, my paws skidding on the polished stone. It wasn’t the presence of a wolf that shocked the crowd, but the speed with which I skittered out. The guards in their wolf forms watched me curiously yet they made no movement. Adora gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

My wolf was small and sleek, with a thick, double-layered pure white coat and silver eyes. It made running in Daybreak uncomfortable, but here in the chill of Efra, it was almost pleasant. I shook out my coat and then barreled toward the door, weaving around interested guests and ignoring Fina’s and Adora’s voices behind me. I had to get out of here. Away from all of this. Away from the council, away from the ball, away from the king.

I needed fresh air. I needed to clear my head. Most of all, I needed to run. Whatever had been in that drink would be burned out of my system once I got my paws in the dirt. I clattered out of the ballroom, down the hall, and out of the back doors of the manor.

I ran without thinking. In my wolf form, I knew where the woods were. All I had to do was run. I tore through the city and into the tree line, until my paws dug into the soft earth and the roots. The air was crisp and cold in my sensitive nose, bringing with it intoxicating scents of the trees, the wildlife, and the wolves of Nightfall.

As I ran through the woods, the questions turned over and over in my mind. Why had the council been asking me so many questions about my mother? My mother had nothing to do with the Choice. I’d never met her. She hung over my life like a specter—the woman I resembled, and the reason my father resented me. And now the council wanted to know about her, too?

It was never about just me. I should never have been so naive as to think the choice would be a place I would be appreciated for who I was. It was all about the pack. About my lineage, whatever that meant. Not about me.

But at least right now, in my wolf form, I could be myself. I could pretend nothing mattered except the dirt under my paws and the cold breeze rustling through my coat.

Then, a low, long howl cut through the silence of the forest. It seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at once, surrounding me. I skidded to a stop, hackles rising and tail low as I looked for the source of the howl. I slunk into the brush, carefully concealing myself in a low bush, pressing my body low to the ground.

Then, from amid the trees, the king emerged.

He had frightened me in his wolf form when I’d been in my human form. He was immense, his coat dark and thick, his golden eyes glowing, his breath exhaling in clouds of steam around his snout.

My hackles rose, lips curling back as I exposed my teeth.

In this form, I wasn’t afraid. In this form, I wanted him to know I was just as strong as he was.

Before I could think about what I was doing, I leaped forward and careened into the king, teeth bared, slamming into the side of his body hard enough to knock him off balance. He whirled on me, his own teeth bared as a deep, intense growl rose from his throat. I lowered down and sneered right back, matching his growl. He moved to lunge at me, but in this shape, I was even quicker than I was in the arena. I dodged him easily, then turned and barreled off into the woods, running as fast as my feet would take me. My wolf had so much pent-up energy, I felt like I could leap forward and start to fly.

The king was pursuing me. I could feel his paws striking the earth behind me, and hear each rough exhale of his breath, smell his scent carried on the cold wind.

But I wasn’t scared. I was almost euphoric.

Even if the king caught me, even if he fastened his teeth on my throat and bit down, crazily, I thought it’d be worth it to experience a cold run like this. I still had the presence of mind to feel a small bit of guilt about the sensation. I’d kept my wolf buried for so long—maybe she just didn’t fit in Daybreak. Maybe she fit somewhere like here.