2

It was fine. I’d learned long ago to stop trying to make him actually care about me. We kept our distance from each other, even at court functions. At this point, twenty-five and long past being a lonely little girl, I found it more ridiculous than anything else. What was the point of being in a pack if you still spent all your time alone?

As we approached the wooden door to my father’s study, Vuk nudged me aside to knock on the door first. “My lord,” Vuk said, “The Lady Reyna, per your request.”

“Enter,” my father said, muffled through the door.

I scowled at Vuk, then opened the door and marched inside, leaving him in the hall. He could wait for me or, preferably, go lurk around whatever halls he occupied when my father didn’t need him running errands.

“You asked for me?” I stood in front of his desk with hands clasped neatly in behind my back.

For a moment, it seemed like my father didn’t even hear me. His office looked like a hurricane had swept in off the coast and run through it. His desk was enormous, even bigger than the table I used in the library, but every inch of it was covered in papers and books and ripped-open envelopes and dried seals and dirty mugs and broken quill pens. The room was dim and without windows. The only light came from the candles peppering the overstuffed bookshelves and a handful on his desk. I liked to keep my spaces organized and well-managed—my father’s tendency toward hoarding and mess always grated my nerves. I was glad I rarely had to spend any time in this cave of a study.

The man behind the desk didn’t look any better. His dark hair was vaguely unkempt, and his complexion, which was usually tan from his duties in town, had paled slightly with the time spent in his study. He looked haggard—and frailer than I’d ever seen him.

“Lady Reyna,” he said, as if I was a random court member instead of his own daughter. “Please, sit.”

It was just a courtesy. We both knew this conversation would move as quickly as possible. I sat down in the straight-backed wooden chair anyway.

He rifled through his papers for a long moment, frustration pinching his features, before he finally uncovered the piece of parchment he was searching for. He smoothed it out and cleared his throat. “I’ve received a notice from the king’s court in Efra.”

Official business then. Some of my nerves eased. Likely we’d have to host a trade convoy or something, and I’d be expected to turn on the charm. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He peered at the paper, then his brow met mine. “King Elias is holding a King’s Choice Tournament to choose a new bride.”

It was only my extensive schooling in etiquette that kept my mouth from dropping open in shock. “A King’s Choice? There hasn’t been a Choice in nearly—”

“A hundred years, yes,” the duke said darkly. “As it happens, the last Choice was held by your grandfather, Constantine.”

“Certainly, they’ve fallen out of fashion,” I said.

“Pack Nightfall continues to revive the old ways,” my father said. “First Drogo takes the throne by force, and now his son is so incapable of diplomacy he resorts to a competition to find a bride. Elias is a fool.” He shook his head with disdain. “Constantine held the Choice because he already had a handful of fine suitors to choose from—the packs were scrambling to join ranks with Daybreak. The Choice was seen as a fair way for the king to choose between them. Elias is attempting to bring back what was a joyous affair for Constantine, but he lacks the Daybreak charm and panache.”

King Elias isn’t the only one lacking that, I thought to myself as I glanced around the dim study.

“The king knows the packs are losing faith in his ability to lead Frasia. If he doesn’t stabilize his court and kingdom, it won’t be long before another pack attempts to take the throne by force, just as Drogo did.”

“He dug his own grave, then,” I said. “I say let him lie in it.”

My father shook his head. “You should realize the opportunity we have at hand.”

“You don’t mean to say we will be participating in this Choice?”

“Of course we are,” my father said. “If we don’t send a suitor to the Choice, we will be openly insulting the king. And you know Elias will be pleased to have any opportunity to punish us.”

I pressed my lips together. Of course. Elias, the Bloody King. He and the beasts he called his pack were hungry for any opportunity to rule by violence. Surely, they’d be delighted to storm Daybreak and take it as their own.

“Of course,” I said. “I can discuss with the court which of the ladies is best prepared to represent Daybreak—”

“Reyna.”

“—and I know we’ve just had a few pups turn eighteen, but I believe we should try to send someone a bit older just to ensure she can hold her own—”

“Reyna.”

“—since diplomatically we want to be sure that Nightfall approves of our submission—”

“Reyna!” my father barked. He slammed his hand on the desk hard enough to send a seal across the floor.

The ferocity in his voice cut my voice off mid-sentence. I straightened up sharply in my chair, breath caught in my throat.

His brown eyes burned gold as he snarled at me, baring his teeth in a display of dominance. His nails lengthened and dug into the surface of the desk. It wasn’t even close to a full shift, but it was a rare display of how close he kept his wolf to the surface. It sent a cold ripple of anxiety down my spine.

I knew my father shifted more than I did—he shifted every full moon, like many wolves in the Daybreak pack. That was the general way in Daybreak. We shifted as a necessity, not for pleasure or play like the animalistic wolves of Nightfall did. I chose to keep my wolf closer to my heart. I didn’t need to shift, not even on the full moon.

But rarely did my father use his wolf to prove a point as he did now.

He sat back. His eyes still gleamed faintly gold, even as his teeth and nails shrank back to normal as if nothing had happened. “You will be participating in the Choice as the suitor from Daybreak.”

“What?” I balked. “But, my lord—”

“No arguments!” he barked again.

I bit my tongue.

“In three days, you will travel to Efra for the Choice.” He slid the letter across the desk and dutifully, I took it. “You will represent Daybreak well. And you will win.” He sat heavily back into his chair and folded his arms over his chest. He stared off into the middle distance, nodding to himself. “And then Daybreak will return to the throne.”

I swallowed. “My lord—”

“You’re dismissed,” he said.

“Sir, please—”

“Dismissed!” he barked, baring his teeth at me again.

I nearly leaped to my feet, then nodded once and hurried out the door, closing it behind me. I took a moment to gather myself, taking a few steadying breaths in the cool darkness of the hallway. At least there was no Vuk. Thank the gods for small favors. I eased the death grip I had on the letter before I wrinkled it beyond all recognition.

As I hurried back up the stairs, my thoughts turned back to the bright, sunny study that my father had not used in my lifetime.

If I was in Efra, would he finally return to it?