58

That was apparently the right decision. The duchess paid her no mind as she disappeared into the manor. Adora and I stood side by side in front of her, both of us red-cheeked from the walk, with snow in our pale blonde hair. The duchess didn’t look happy to see either of us. “The council had decided one more trial is in order to decide which of you is fit to become Queen of Frasia.”

Adora nodded, and I did the same. It was admittedly hard to find the right words when faced with the queen staring me down like this.

“You will both be spending an evening with the king,” she said. “Dinner.” “Alone?” I asked.

The duchess’ gaze slid to me. “Yes,” she said. “Alone. Is that a problem, Lady Reyna?” “N-no,” I stammered. “No, not a problem at all.”

“I would hope not,” the duchess said, “as this is the man who may become your husband. I would hope you did not require a chaperone to be comfortable in his presence.”

“Of course not,” Adora said. “It’s an honor, Duchess.”

The duchess afforded Adora a small smile for that. Dinner alone with the king? And she had said an evening. That implied a little more than dinner. What kind of trial was this?

“You will have tonight to prepare,” the duchess said, “and then Lady Reyna will have dinner with the king tomorrow. Lady Adora, you will dine the next night.”

Adora swallowed. It was only the time we’d spent together that allowed me to see the irritation in her posture. “Wonderful,” she said.

“Any questions?” the duchess asked in a tone that suggested we best not have any.

We both shook our heads. The duchess took her leave without another word. Then, Adora and I were left in the freezing cold, standing stunned side by side.

“A private dinner with the king,” Adora said, sounding slightly awed. “Wow. I wonder what he’s like.”

“I wonder, too,” I lied. I wished I didn’t know a thing about the king. I wished my gut wasn’t tightening with heat and curiosity and anticipation at the thought of a dinner alone with him. I’d spent plenty of time alone with him already. I shoved down the memory of the kiss we’d shared in the middle of the forest.

That was impossible, though. The memory of the kiss made my wolf stir with interest in my chest. My wolf wanted more time with him—wanted to be close. Wanted me to remember, over and over again, his broad chest, his burning kiss, the way he’d said the word mate in the privacy of his study.

But it didn’t matter what my wolf wanted. She’d already gotten more than she deserved, with that wild run we’d taken through the woods. I had someone waiting for me at home—someone who was willing to let me live my life the way I wanted to. I had to get back to Daybreak to start my own journey, and Adora deserved to be the Queen of Frasia.

If only I could get my wolf to understand.

17

“O h, milady,” Amity said with a dreamy sigh. “You really do look gorgeous.” I grimaced. “This is really what the council decided on for me?”

“Sent directly from Camille’s,” Rue said. She fastened the small hook and eye closure at my lower back.

In the mirror, I hardly looked like myself at all. For the previous trials, I’d been dressed in fine gowns that represented my court: pale eggshell whites and seafoam blues, with delicate details of crystals and moonstones, cinched bodices, and long, flowing skirts. My dresses had suggested movement, ease, beauty but functionality. Things that suited me. They’d even let me wear pants! But this—this was something much different.

It was a full-length gown, but the skirt was fitted through the thigh, accentuating the curve of my leg. A slit ran from the hem of the skirt just past my knee—much higher than anything I’d ever worn! —revealing an expanse of my bare leg. It had a long neck, and full sleeves of fitted black lace, but the back was completely open. A string of small, delicate pearls held the dress closed, running across the width of my shoulders. The opalescent coloring of the pearls matched the stars embroidered at the bottom of the skirt. It was silk, slick against my skin. The entire gown was also black.

Pure black. Inky black, black as the night sky. My father never let me wore black. He’d always said it was a low-class color. I’d never understood why, but now I realized it might not have been about class at all. The black made me look older, more refined—desirable. This wasn’t a dress to impress the council with my skills or my wit. I felt like I was trotted out like a show pony for the king. I pulled my blonde hair forward over my shoulders; the contrast between the silk made it shine even brighter. Rue delicately pinned my tiara in place. The final touch.

“Are you excited?” Amity asked. “Dinner with the king in his private room. Wow.”

Anxiety fluttered in my chest. “I don’t know what to expect. Why an outfit like this?”

Amity and Rue exchanged a glance. “Because it looks lovely,” Rue said, while at the same time Amity asked, “Why do you think?”

I frowned at my reflection in the mirror. Was that really what this was about? Was I being offered up to the king on a platter like a meal? Did he intend to have sex with me, and then Adora tomorrow night? Perhaps this was the final trial—to see which of us the king was more sexually compatible with. Or, even worse, perhaps the decision had already been made and the king simply wanted a bit of fun before it was announced.