All Chapters of Wolf King (Wolves Of The Night Book 1): Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Fina raised her eyebrows at my outfit, but Adora just grinned from where she was seated. They were both wearing simpler gowns, too, Adora in tan cotton and Fina in elegant greens. Rona was seated at the table with them too, but she just scoffed at my outfit like it was the dumbest thing she’d ever seen. Her own dress was made for function as well, a brown skirt hitting just under her knees, and a black bodice with long fitted sleeves.“Good morning,” I said as I joined them and made myself a plate of breakfast from the spread at the table. Wynona was still absent, though not late yet.“How’d you sleep?” Rona asked with a half-smirk. “Any nightmares about the big bad wolf?” I poured myself a coffee. “I slept fine.”“I’ve never seen someone look so frightened around a wolf before,” Rona continued. “If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t think you were a shifter at all. You looked like a scared little girl in front of the king.”“Rona!” Adora said.“I’m just stating the obvious,” Rona said.

I chose a Shiangan single-edged sword, with a tapered blade that narrowed at the hilt and widened slightly toward the top. It wasn’t made quite as finely as the ones I was used to training with in Daybreak, purchased directly from the traders at the port, but it was familiar in my hand and the right size and weight for parrying. I swung it in a few careful arcs, testing the weight and balance as I walked back toward the center of the arena.When I glanced up, the king was watching my testing moves with a curious tilt to his head. Shit. I’d already fallen into my muscle memory.There was a large white circle drawn on the dirt. I took my place at one end and fell naturally into my fighting stance, with my left foot forward and the sword in my right hand. Ten yards away, Rona stood in a similar stance, with the sword gripped so tightly her knuckles were white. Anger and anticipation radiated off her, and she didn’t hesitate to bare her teeth in a snarl intended to intimidate.I took a sl

I ducked lower and shifted my weight, so I was behind him again, and raised my sword just quickly enough to block another overhead swing aimed at me. With one hand on the hilt and the other palm on the flat of the blade, I pushed back against his sword, grimacing with the effort, digging my heels into the dirt of the arena. “A sneaky maneuver,” he said through gritted teeth. “Your escort spoke truth.” I said nothing, focused entirely on the effort of holding his sword back.Then, suddenly, the pressure was gone. He stepped back, but before I could regain my bearings, he slid his blade beneath my sword, still brandished as if to parry, and flicked it back toward himself.I lost my grip on the hilt and my sword went flying into the dirt.I hopped back into my stance, hands raised defensively, half-expecting another strike.The king only straightened his posture. He stuck the blade of his sword into the dirt like a flag claiming his victory.The crowed exploded into cheers. Had they been

Except she didn’t feel rested at all. She wanted closeness, other wolves, either the handmaidens or Fina and Adora, or better yet, the king. That wasn’t happening today, though. I padded over to my dresser and pulled out the fine silver knife Barion had given me, sheathed in its leather scabbard embroidered with the Daybreak crest. Sometimes a wolf’s instincts were just a little overactive. I’d been through a lot of stress—the dinner, the sparring, and having the king show up at my door. My wolf was on high alert. Having the little knife on my person would calm her down, certainly. I slipped it into the waistband of my pants.It worked. My wolf settled, the weight of the knife a substitute for her bared teeth, and a tangible reminder of Barion, too. Then I tucked The History of Fae in Frasia into the crook of my arm and slipped out of my room. I didn’t leave a note for Amity and Rue, but I had a feeling they’d know where to find me.I made my way through the halls of the manor undistu

“Where are we?” I asked.“My study,” the king said sharply.“Then what’s the room upstairs in the library?” I asked.“My archival study,” he snapped. “Why am I letting you ask questions?”He guided me to one of the chairs at the table and pushed me down to sit. I swallowed. Goosebumps rose on my arms. I was still riding high from the adrenaline of the fight and reeling from the way the king had carried me—I was offended while my wolf was preening. Right now, I was too tired to untangle those reactions. He exhaled. “Are you hurt?”I looked down at my hands. They were covered in blood, sticky and darkening as it dried, and it had reached my clothes as well. Certainly it had flecked my face, too. The same dark blood stained the king’s hands where he had grabbed me.“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s not my blood.” Suddenly, renewed anger surged through me. “Care to explain why I just got attacked in your library?” “Attacked?” the king asked.“Yes, attacked!” I tried to stand up to get in his face