80

We made our way through the room, greeting the guests before we made our way to the seats at the head of the table. As the king was roped into a boisterous chat with Cyran, my father strode over with his wine glass in hand.

“Reyna,” he said with a warm tone I’d never heard him deploy at home. “It’s so wonderful to see you. What an honor to be the victor of the King’s Choice.” He leaned close to kiss me on the cheek, and then whispered sharply into my ear, “We must speak. Find me after dinner.”

I swallowed and reared back, but none of the guests seemed to notice, busy as they were taking their own places at the table.

The Duke of Daybreak took his place to the right of me, next to the duchess. I didn’t like how close they were seated to each other—it was making my wolf whine with displeasure. As soon as the wine was poured, my father stood up from his seat and raised his glass high.

“To the King and future Queen of Frasia,” he boomed. “I am honored to call you my daughter, Lady Reyna.”

Murmurs of agreement and scattered applause sounded around the table as the members of the court sipped their wine in recognition of the toast.

I smiled weakly as I lifted the glass to my lips but didn’t drink. I felt a sip of wine might turn my stomach and leave me too inhibited to keep my wolf under control. I’d already had her leap forward once around the court members—I didn’t want that to happen in front of my father.

The servants came out with an extravagant feast, just as I would expect with Nightfall hosting guests. Whole pigs, whole ducks, whole pheasants, crisp roasted vegetables and boats of thick gravy. The servants made our plates first, and the guests’, before the court was instructed to delve into the dishes family-style themselves. My stomach was in knots. I ate a few bites of my meal delicately, tuning in and out of the boisterous conversation as the wine kicked in and the guests started laughing louder. It was hard to keep up—and I found I didn’t really want to, either.

Near the end of dinner, the king leaned closer and set his hand on my knee under the table. He squeezed once, a comforting gesture, and my wolf calmed slightly. But only slightly. “You all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” I murmured. “Just tired.”

That seemed to satisfy the king, and he returned his attention to the guests, leading the conversation back toward the details of moonlight runs and wild hunts. I could see the disdain in my father’s eyes, even as he skillfully engaged.

As the meal came to its end, the servants swept in, taking away dinner china and replacing it with elegant dessert plates. Then, from the side door, the kitchen staff wheeled in an immense cart with a gorgeous, tiered cake on it. If it weren’t for the rich dark frosting, I’d think it was a practice run for a wedding cake.

“Dessert is served,” the king boomed. “A fine spiced dark chocolate cake, from the recipes my ancestors used when sugar was a rare delicacy. I’ve prepared this to welcome you to our court, Duke, in celebration of my upcoming wedding.”

“Marvelous,” my father said. His smile was well-practiced, and it was only my experience in his court that let me read it as fake. “I’m most honored.”

The servants cut and served the cake with more red wine and tumblers of rich brandy. I took a small bite of mine, savoring the soft texture and delicate spices in the cake. When I looked over at my father, he was watching me eat with something akin to disgust on his face. I set my fork down.

The band in the corner began to play a bit louder than they had through dinner, something fastmoving and jaunty as was the Nightfall way. Some of the court members stood up and moved to the dance floor, into a fast, exciting jig, their feet quickened by the good meal and the booze. I decided I’d rather watch them than try to read the minute changes on my father’s face.

The women of the court moved with remarkable ease, their gowns flashing around their ankles as the men spun them. Even on the dance floor, the court members’ wolves seemed to remain close to the surface, visible in quick flashes of teeth or a yellow gleam of the eye.

The king folded his hand over my knee again. He leaned closer, and his warm breath washed over my ear as he spoke. I pressed my thighs together. “I’d love to dance with you,” he murmured.

“To this?” I asked. “I have yet to learn these fast-paced dances.”

The king laughed, low, and squeezed my knee again. My wolf preened, comforted by his touch and warmed by the knowledge that I’d pleased him.

“Fair enough,” he said. “You’ll learn those moves a bit later.”

He waved a hand at the band, gesturing in a circle. The jig ended, and the band launched into something slower, close to a waltz. Here was a song similar to the music of Daybreak. It sounded like home—or what used to be home.

“Is this more to your liking, my lady?” the king asked. The pleased, wolfish smile on his face made me think he knew what my answer would be.

Despite my nerves and my low mood, this was a better song. And the last thing I wanted was to seem unhappy, or ungrateful. After all, I’d won the Choice—I was supposed to be elated.

“It’s a bit more reasonable, yes,” I said.

The king stood and offered his hand. I took a breath and accepted, risking a glance toward my father where he sat. He was watching us with his expression carefully neutral, but a small smile curling his lips that looked almost pleased.

What did the duke want from me? I knew he had a plan—something was on his mind. I couldn’t get my answers now, though. I had to play my role. At least my wolf had no trouble with that.