78

Everything in my mind was so turned around.

“Griffin was in the dungeons the entire time,” the king said. His voice wasn’t accusatory, more interested and curious. “When exactly did you speak to him? The guards never informed me that you paid him a visit.”

I blanched. Right—well. If I wasn’t fleeing Efra, I had no reason to keep it to myself, and my foggy mind wasn’t up to crafting a lie.

“I used the tunnel system under the manor,” I said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you not know about it?”

The king raked one hand through his hair. “Do you have any booze in your chambers?” He cast his gaze around imploringly.

Despite it all, I bit back a small smile. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

He opened the door and stuck his head out. “Go fetch me some brandy, will you?” Then he closed the door and dropped into one of the heavy armchairs by the low fire. “How exactly did you find out about these tunnels? The system isn’t common knowledge among the court.”

“Isn’t it a bit early for alcohol? They’re on the maps of the manor. I didn’t break any rules.”

“It’s nearly dinnertime,” he said with a sigh. “Where exactly did you find this map?”

“Why?” I asked. “So you can make up some rule I broke to punish me? History and cartography are some of the only things I have left that bring me joy, and you would—”

“No,” he interrupted with a shake of his head, “so I can add it to my collection of shit not to leave around the manor for anyone to find.”

He sounded almost petulant. I snorted, surprised, and he raised his eyebrows as he glanced toward me.

Something unsure and strange hung fragile in the air between us. The king inhaled, about to speak, but then was interrupted by a quick knock on the door.

He stood and answered it, opening the door only enough to take the brandy and two glasses from the guard. He walked back over to the chair and waved me over.

“Why not have them bring it in?” I asked as I watched the king struggle a little to balance the two glasses in one hand.

“I don’t want anyone to see you like this,” he said.

I reared back. “Like what?” I asked. “Like a sniffling, depressed woman?”

“No,” he said. “Grief is private. I wouldn’t let my guards stomp into your quarters like that.”

Of course, the king had stomped into my private quarters without asking—but I supposed it was different when he was my fiancé. Strangely, that small bit of respect warmed me enough to let me take a seat across from him by the fire.

He poured us each a small amount of brandy. He handed me my glass, and I accepted it, then tucked my feet up under my body in the overstuffed chair. He assessed me under his gaze, and my wolf preened under the attention. No matter what the king did, she never felt threatened by him. She always wanted to be closer.

“So,” he asked, “where exactly did you find this map?” “In the library,” I said.

He sighed. “Trouble always seems to occur when you’re there. Was this near my study?”

“Yes,” I said, “you know, where all the maps are.” Now, it was my turn to smirk. The king almost rolled his eyes.

“It looked like it hadn’t been used in a long time,” I said, “but it wasn’t hidden. Just stuck on a high shelf.”

The king rubbed his chin. “Manor blueprints shouldn’t be lying around in the library where anyone can find them. Especially if they list the tunnels.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Your Majesty,” I said. “That’s where I found it. If you wanted—”

“Please,” he cut in. “Call me Elias. I don’t want my title to divide us.”

The argument I was preparing melted on my tongue. I hadn’t called him Elias since the night we’d spent together—the night I tried not to think about, lest my body betray me with its desire.

“It’s not just your title,” I said. “It’s who you are. You are the king. It’s not just a role you can take on and off like your cloak. It’s like your wolf—it’s always there.” I took a tentative sip of my brandy. “And you’ve already divided us. You killed a member of my court.” “Your former court,” the king noted.

“And,” I said, “you didn’t tell me that this Choice was about fulfilling the prophecy.”

“If that were true, you would not be sitting here with me right now,” the king said. “The council chose Adora.”

I nearly dropped my glass. “What? What do you mean? Then why is she not queen?”

“I don’t believe in the prophecy,” the king said. “Those old superstitions don’t matter to me. They matter to my mother, and to the council. But not to me. I meant what I told you, Reyna. I made my final decision for love.”

“Love,” I repeated softly. He’d said it once, and I hadn’t believed it. I still wasn’t sure if I did. But why else would he reject the council’s choice? I felt similar to how I had in the arena—like I was suddenly plunged underwater, distanced from experience. It couldn’t be real. I gripped my glass hard and gazed into the brown liquid.

“I understand you don’t feel the same for me,” the king continued, “but it will come in time. I’ll prove myself to you, just as I’ve proven myself to be a good king to the citizens of Efra. I have no doubt about that.”

“How would you know my feelings?” I asked. “You’ve never asked. This whole Choice has just been me being forced around, over and over, with no consideration for what I want. It was never meant to bring us together. The council wanted to fulfill a prophecy, and you wanted—I don’t know, to defy them like a teenager. You only think of yourself.”