66

The side door opening caught Griffin’s ear. His eyes widened. “Reyna!”

Instinctively, he surged forward, as if to run to me, only to be stopped by the Nightfall guards lowering their weapons like a gate in front of him. He burned with desperation, so much I saw his eyes flash clay-red as his wolf surged to the surface.

I clenched my hands into fists again to keep from running toward him. I’d been so angry he’d done this, but now, seeing him, I could see the desperation and the despair in his expression—and I missed him. I missed the ease and comfort of our relationship. I wanted to embrace him. I wanted all of this to be over, to go home to Daybreak, where I knew who I was and what I wanted.

“So tell us why you’ve come here, Griffin of Daybreak,” the king said from his throne. He sounded bored. “You’ve interrupted my Choice enough as it is.”

“I’ve come to free Reyna from this farce,” Griffin said. “Daybreak wolves are not to be traded and tested like livestock.”

“Is that what you think this is?” the king asked, his eyebrows raised idly. “You compare the future

Queen of Frasia to livestock?”

Griffin’s flush deepened. “The Lady Reyna does not belong to you,” he said, so low it was almost a growl. “She belongs with me.”

“Is that so?” The king cut his gaze toward me, and that wolfish smirk appeared on his face. This time, it didn’t confuse or interest me—it scared me. “And what would you do to keep her, Griffin of Daybreak?”

“Please,” I cried out. “Griffin, just go. Just leave.”

He didn’t know what he was getting into. He didn’t know what the king could do to him—what I’d seen him do.

“Go?” Griffin furrowed his brow. “Reyna, I came here for you. I’m not leaving without you. You think I can return to Daybreak knowing you’re trapped here with this brute?” The king rumbled a low laugh.

Griffin glared at him, then returned his attention to me. He lunged again, but the guards stopped him, looking just as bored as the king did.

“He doesn’t care about you,” he said. “And you don’t care about being queen. What happened to us?”

“This isn’t about us,” I said. “Griffin, this isn’t—this isn’t about honor. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

His face fell, briefly devastated, and then turned back with thunderous anger onto the king. We knew each other well enough that I didn’t have to say what I was afraid of. Griffin knew I wasn’t worried about the king. I was worried about him. And that only made him angrier. Now, red-faced and eyes flashing, he had something to prove.

“Elias of Nightfall, King of Frasia!” Griffin bellowed. “I challenge you to battle for the right to the throne!” His challenge echoed through the throne room, fading into a chilly silence.

Again, the king smiled. It was a slow, deliberate smile, predatory, revealing his canines. An icy feeling of terror trickled down my spine.

“Griffin of Daybreak,” the king said, “I accept your challenge.”

19

T

he Nightfall guards surrounded Griffin and his two Daybreak escorts from all sides and corralled him back toward the doors of the throne room. He walked backward, his eyes fixed on me. They still burned that deep clay-red with the promise of the animal under the surface. I’d

never seen his wolf this close for this long.

“I’m getting you out of here, Reyna,” he called. “We’ll be together again soon.”

“Oh, Griffin,” I said quietly. “Griffin, you fool.”

The doors clattered closed, and that same chilly silence fell over the room. From his seat, where he was still sprawled lazily, the king brandished his hand in a clear dismissal. The guards turned and filed from the room.

I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes. I couldn’t believe this—a challenge. My Griffin, challenging the Bloody King for the throne. The king who’d earned this throne through violence.

Griffin was never a wolf like that—he was soft-spoken and thoughtful, more interested in the games at Marco’s Pub than training on the battlefield. We were supposed to travel together, explore, document. Not fight. Not get sucked into the pack politics that had already dominated our lives. And Griffin was about to sacrifice that future together because he didn’t trust me to handle things on my own.

I swallowed and turned to leave through the same narrow door the guard had escorted me through. I needed to be back in my quarters. I needed time alone.

Before I could take a step, a strong, callused hand caught my arm. I whirled around, anger burning in me. “How could you do that?” I smacked his broad chest ineffectively. He didn’t even move. “Why would you agree to that challenge? You could’ve just sent him away!”

“Because you are a wolf of Nightfall, now,” the king said, “regardless of what life you led in

Daybreak. That life is over now.”

“’That’ life? That life is my life,” I shot back. “Does that mean nothing to you? Am I just another possession of yours, a decoration in your court?”

“You’re much more than a possession,” he said. He smoothed his hand up my upper arm to the joining of my neck and shoulder, his touch firm and warm. Despite the anger still coursing through me, my wolf wanted to lean into the touch. The whiplash was exhausting. “You’re my queen.”

“If you go through with this,” I said, “I will never be your queen. Never. I swear it.”

The king chuckled low, like my anger amused him. “You can swear all you want, little wolf. But the Choice has come to a close. And I chose you.”