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His eyes flashed gold as he loomed over me, his wolf close to the surface. This time it was from anger, though, not arousal. My wolf was conflicted internally, still wanting to be close to him, wanting to soothe away this rage, while my own fear of the king’s anger cut through me like a knife.

“Little wolf.” Elias placed his hand by my head, caging me in against the wall. “Have you a betrothed in Daybreak?” “No,” I said immediately.

He bared his teeth.

I tipped my head back against the stone wall, baring my throat in a subconscious sign of submission. “No, I mean—it’s nothing official.” “Then what is it?” he demanded.

“He’s—he’s my boyfriend, in Daybreak,” I said. The words felt childish even as I said them. “He has been for years. We never thought—the Choice was not supposed to happen in our lifetimes.” “And you came into my bed without telling me this?” he said. “That you belong to another?” “I don’t belong—”

The animal growl that sounded from Elias’ throat silenced my protests as if he’d physically grabbed me. But it wasn’t like I’d planned for this—it just happened! I’d intended to have dinner and then return to my quarters, but I’d just gotten swept up. This was never supposed to happen.

A sudden swoop of anger rushed through me. Navigating the Choice was my responsibility. Griffin had said he trusted me. Sure, I hadn’t written past that first letter—but there was nothing in that letter that suggested I needed rescue. What was he thinking?

He suddenly stepped back and shook his head roughly, then pushed both hands through his dark hair. “I should send you down to the jail where your betrothed” –he spat the word like it tasted foul— “believes you to be. I should leave you there to rot.”

“You can’t—”

“But,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “I find that would be almost a kindness now.” I swallowed. My hands clenched to fists at my sides.

“I cannot let a deception like this go unpunished.” He pulled a shirt roughly on over his head. “And there’s something that appeals to me about knowing your underwear is still somewhere in my sheets, while you stand in my throne room and watch your betrothed die.”

I clapped my hands over my mouth. Griffin—Griffin, you moron. Did he think this would work? That somehow he could ride in and ‘rescue’ me? This was not a game. This was the Bloody King of Frasia.

He stormed toward the door.

“Wait,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Wait, Elias—”

He turned on his heel to face me, and his wolf surged to the surface. His teeth elongated, eyes burning gold; even his claws lengthened in a sudden threat as he slashed his hand through the air like he was waving off an irritating fly.

“You will not use that name with me,” he snarled. “You will refer to me as Your Majesty.”

My knees quivered. “I should’ve known,” I whispered. “I should’ve known this all meant nothing to you.”

He turned away. “I only have so much patience,” he said with his back to me. “I’d be careful what you say.”

The door to his quarters slammed shut behind him. I put my face in my hands as I sank down, sliding down the wall until I was seated on the floor with my knees pulled toward my chest. I pressed my forehead into my knees, making myself small. I could hardly think through the pounding in my head and the nausea in my gut, and my wolf whining with despair in my chest. My wolf wanted to be with the king—with Elias—and I ached with frustration and disbelief knowing Griffin was being hauled into the throne room.

The door opened, and then sharp claws clicked their tell-tale sound against the polished hardwood floor of the quarters. I lifted my head. An immense, dark wolf of Nightfall stood in the bedroom doorway, his yellow eyes gleaming as he watched me. He didn’t have to shift for me to know this was my escort. The king wouldn’t even escort me himself.

I hauled myself to my feet. The throne room was waiting.

I followed the guard through the halls. Each step made the circumstances feel more real, and I felt more hopeless. More ridiculous. Here I was, in my wrinkled silk dress with no underwear beneath it, my hair a tangled mess, being walked toward the throne room like a disobedient teenager, instead of the Lady of the Court I was supposed to be.

Was there any worth in being a Lady of my Court, anyway? All the work I’d done in this Choice to maintain my pack’s reputation had gone out the window. Griffin had made sure of that.

But that shouldn’t be a death sentence. Griffin had to have known how this would end.

Right? He wouldn’t be so foolish. That wasn’t the man I left in Daybreak. A man who didn’t think I could handle myself—who thought I needed to be rescued. Who would toss aside all the diplomatic work I’d done here?

At the door to the throne room, the guard shifted back into his human form, fully uniformed in his leather armor. He gripped my upper arm, as if I were a prisoner, and walked me in through the side entrance to the throne room.

The side entrance opened near the dais, where the king sat atop his throne with his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, looking halfway between bored and disgusted. He was flanked by Nightfall guards, in both human and wolf form, all with their attention focused ahead.

Focused on Griffin.

He stood facing the throne, in his fine steel breastplate that didn’t have a nick on it. His dark red hair was combed back, and his eyes blazed with determination. He had two Daybreak guards with him, neither armed—the guards by the doors had taken their halberds. They were flanked by heavily armed Nightfall guards lest they try something foolish. With the flush high on his cheeks and the tense line of his shoulders, I had a feeling he might.