77

A soft knock on the door caught my attention. I glanced over at the door, then sighed and settled back against the headboard. I didn’t want Amity and Rue to know I was awake. Eventually, I’d have to face them—there was a wedding to plan, after all—but so far they’d respected my need for privacy. At some point they’d insist I face the court, but I was putting that off as long as I could.

There was another knock on the door, sharper this time. More insistent. Maybe it was Fina or Adora, but I wasn’t quite ready to face them, either. I gazed out the window, as if I ignored the knocking enough, it’d stop all together.

That was not the case. Another series of sharp, demanding knocks. I heaved a sigh and finally stood up. Whoever was at my door wasn’t giving up. I pulled on my robe and cinched it tight around my waist, then turned toward the door.

Before I could take a step, it swung open.

The king stood at the other side of the threshold, and he looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept at all in the past two days. His tan complexion was pallid, his eyes bloodshot. He’d pulled his cloak on, but it was haphazard, unfastened and hanging loose over his broad shoulders.

“Why didn’t you answer the door?” the king said. “Are you unwell?”

I took a step back. I’d never seen the king look so unwell himself. He was typically so regal and unflappable, it was jarring to see him otherwise. And shouldn’t he be happy? He’d won the challenge, after all. I pulled my robe tighter around my shoulders.

“Answer me, Reyna.” The king stepped into my room and closed the door behind him.

The lack of honorific shocked me out of my head. No longer was I Lady Reyna—I was just Reyna.

“I’m not receiving guests right now.”

He laughed, low and surprised. “’Receiving guests’? You’ve taken to your new role quite well.” “I’m not the queen,” I shot back.

“Not yet.”

I knew that, but hearing him say it made it worse. Realer. I swallowed. “Of course I’m unwell,” I said. “You killed my friend in front of me.”

His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer, until he was nearly looming over me. I stood my ground. “Friend?” he asked. “You call that boy your friend?” I said nothing.

“He wasn’t here to save you,” the king said. “He didn’t care about you. He wanted the throne. You were just the excuse. He wanted to tear down everything I’ve worked so hard to build—and he wanted you as the prize.”

He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t know already. I didn’t need him to tell me what Griffin had done. I knew more about that than he realized. I was too exhausted to argue with him, and I’d learned there was no point in doing so, either. He didn’t listen to me. He just made decisions and dragged me along for the ride, just like every other man in my life.

I turned toward the window instead. Outside, on the other side of the city walls, the wolves of Efra were going about their daily business. Airing out laundry, haggling at food stalls, laughing outside of pubs. Their lives had no mention of treason, of royalty, of prophecy. That was the life I’d thought I would have—a simple life. A commoner’s life.

“I’m sorry,” the king said suddenly.

I started, then whipped around to look at him. “What did you just say?”

The king smiled sadly at me. “I shouldn’t frame it that way,” he said. “Even if it’s true. I know it hurts to lose a wolf of your former pack, regardless of the context. But I couldn’t stand that he dared to use you as an excuse to seek power. He didn’t care about you.”

“Don’t tell me why he did what he did,” I snapped. “I don’t need you to explain it.” To my surprise, the king shut his mouth.

“We had many years together,” I said. “That doesn’t just go away, despite what he did. He showed me—” I paused and closed my eyes hard, willing away the prickle of tears behind my eyes and the tightening in my throat. I took a few deep breaths and it passed. “He showed me I was more than just my role in the court. More than just a lady. And even if it wasn’t real, it was real to me. I believed we had a future together. That’s what I’m grieving—the future I thought I had. My freedom.”

The king said nothing. After a long silence, I glanced back behind me, half-expecting to see him absent from the room. But he was still standing there, watching me, a soft sadness in his tired eyes.

“I didn’t mean to belittle your feelings,” he said. “But I still couldn’t let him take our future away.”

Again, he was right. We did have a future together, whether I wanted it or not. I could only hope that the king would let me have a hand in crafting it. I sighed and turned away from the window, tracing my hand around the edge of the small table instead.

“I don’t know if I can love you the way you expect,” I admitted.

“I’m not sure if you know what I expect,” the king murmured.

“I thought I was fully committed to Griffin,” I continued. All the frustration and grief of the past few days bubbled inside me, spilling over like bile. “I trusted him—I loved him. What happened between you and me, it—it surprised me. I don’t know what it means. And now everything I thought I did know turned out to be a lie. If what Griffin said is true, I’m not even a daughter of Daybreak.”

“What do you mean?” the king asked, his expression sharpening. “When did he say that?”

“Before the challenge,” I said. And he’d said it with so much certainty, like I was the only one who didn’t know. But he was speaking nonsense, wasn’t he? Or maybe what I thought was nonsense was the only real truth he’d ever told me.