90

What else had I learned in Daybreak that was a lie?

“Your Majesty,” the priest said, “my lady. We gather here today under the watchful eyes of our gods to join both of you together in matrimony as leaders of Pack Nightfall and the Kingdom of Frasia. The Choice has guided you to your queen, and now you may enter the rest of your lives together.” He cast his yellow eyes around the guests. “With your court and your pack as witnesses, you will begin this journey.”

My father was nearly vibrating with anger as he watched, though if any other wolves noticed it, they made no comment. Fina was already crying as she watched, dabbing under her eyes delicately from where she stood. Even the duchess, stern in her rich purple gown, seemed minutely pleased to see the culmination of the Choice.

Lady Marin stepped forward to the priest’s side. In her hands she held a plain wooden box. The priest opened it and carefully took out a heavy piece of thick, plain rope. “Face each other,” he said.

We did as instructed, and the king took both of my hands in his. The priest’s long, bony fingers moved with surprising dexterity as he wound the rough length of rope around the king’s wrists, then our joined hands, then my wrists. Tying us together. The rope was surprisingly heavy. Was I imagining the faint crackle of magic emanating from it, or was that the priest’s in-between status? The king caught my gaze. I held it steadily, my wolf pleased under the attention, and my heart galloping in my chest.

The priest laid his palm over our joined, tied hands.

“This rope has bound the wrists of every Nightfall mate pairing for generations,” the priest said. “Now, it binds you, Lord Elias of Nightfall, and you, Lady Reyna of Daybreak. The rope represents your contract to each other. Lord Elias, do you swear to love and support your queen as you lead with the heart of a wolf?”

“I do,” the king rumbled. His eyes flashed gold.

Pleasure raced through me.

“And you, Lady Reyna, do you swear to love and support your king as you lead with the heart of a wolf?”

The vows were the same. Equal. Strange—so unlike a Daybreak wedding. I kept my gaze on the king’s, and I felt my wolf flash in my eyes as I said, “I do.”

“Will you remember this vow as you walk your path together and lead both this pack and this nation?” the priest asked.

“We will,” we said in unison.

The priest smiled, showing a flash of his sharp teeth. “Face your pack, then,” he said.

The priest stepped to the side. The king smiled, and I couldn’t help but return it, even as disbelief and pleasure danced through my veins in equal measure. I’d said the vows. He’d said them, too. The thing I’d feared most had happened—and yet it was as if a great weight had been lifted. Surely this feeling wouldn’t last. Just a mix of the brisk morning air, the cool earth under my toes, and the king’s warm hands in mine. But for the moment, it felt right.

Then the king turned and faced the edge of the cliff. I did the same.

“Wolves of Nightfall and Efra,” the priest boomed, his voice echoing over the crowd below, “I present the King and Queen of Frasia!”

Below the cliff, the wolves began to bark and shift, bouncing with excitement. Then, one wolf began to howl. The howl rippled through the wolves below, one wolf tilting its head back, then another, another, until all the wolves below were singing in one long, low note of celebration. The sound ripped over my skin, electric. My wolf bounded in my chest, thrilled by the musical sound of it, longing to burst forth and join the howl.

Then the king used our joined hands to pull me close to him. With the howl filling the air around us, driving all from my mind, he leaned in and sealed our marriage with a kiss.

A kiss unlike any we’d had before. Warm and gentle and passionate, like a promise, with all these wolves here to witness it. He pulled back and tipped his forehead against mine.

“I love you, Reyna,” he murmured.

Despite the audience, those words were only for me. I didn’t say them back—I couldn’t—but still something glowed in my chest.

From the ceremony, we went directly into the main hall, with the party led by Lady Glennis, the council members, and our servants. The manor was bustling with activity. The front doors were flung open, and the foyer had been converted into a dining hall of its own, where the citizens of Efra spilled in. The party was half in the foyer and half outside of it, and servants swept around the crowd with food and drinks as the wolves dove into the meal. It was a boisterous affair, with loud laughter and music and some guests already well on their way to drunkenness despite the early afternoon hour. The king smiled when he saw it, gazing at his subjects like a proud father. There were hoots and shouts of support, applause, a few howls from those still in their wolf shapes.

Then we made our way into the main hall, where the court celebrated away from the common people of Efra.

“Oh, gods above,” I murmured in awe.

“Do you like it?” the king asked.

I hooked my arm into his, then gazed wide-eyed at the decorated hall. “How is this possible?”

The room glowed in the elegant candlelight. Small tables lined the walls, covered in white tablecloths, and the band played near the dais. The windows were open, curtains pulled aside, and there was a wide space available on the floor for dancing. But the strangest thing was the snow that appeared to fall from the vaulted ceiling. Fat flakes of gorgeous snow, drifting down and disappearing where they landed. It was so magical, so ethereal.