Page 132 of The Wolf King

I halt on the bottom step. “Goddess, Callum!”

Callum’s eyebrows knit together. “What’s the matter?”

My heart pounds against my ribcage as my mind reels with choices. I glance at the door ahead, knowing the corridor behind it leads to the Great Hall where I will meet my fate. I look over my shoulder at the stairway.

I take a deep breath. “I need to change my dress.”

“Rory—” Callum’s tone is a warning, but I’ve already turned around. I run back up the stairs, almost tripping over my skirts. Callum is close behind me. “We don’t have time for this!”

I run into his chambers and close the door in his face. “Send someone in to help me.”

I hear him slam his hand against the wall outside, then curse under his breath. “It’s just a dress.” His tone is pointedly even—as though he’s trying to reason with a petulant child. “It doesn’t matter—”

“Send someone to help me!”

“Goddess, give me strength,” he growls. “Fine. But if you’re not out in five minutes, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and take you down to the Great Hall regardless of what you are, or are not, wearing!”

***

Ten minutes later, I step back into the corridor donning the black dress. It is strange, but after a couple of weeks of wearing clothes that make me fit in, I feel more myself, wearing it.

It is a beautiful piece of clothing, and I wonder where it came from.

The sleeves are made of intricate lace that is shaped into leaves and thorns and branches. One of the servants helped me cinch in the corset at the waist, and the collar is high. I pinned back my hair to accentuate it, and pinched my cheeks to bring some color to them, though my face must still be pale. My long skirts rustle as they trail across the floor.

Callum is pacing up and down and his hands are in fists at his sides.

“Finally!” He spins around, eyes blazing. “You—”

He swallows, then blinks a couple of times. His lips part and his eyebrows raise. Taking a deep breath, he dips his head deferentially—his eyes never leaving mine.

“Your Highness,” he says.

I grab my black skirts, and walk past him. “It’s just a dress.” I flash him a smile as I repeat his words to him.

He huffs out a laugh as he falls into step beside me. He keeps looking at me, then averting his gaze when I catch his eye.

“You know, I forget sometimes. Who you are. I mean... I don’t forget. I know you’re the princess. Well . . I...” He exhales. “Goddess, you’ve got me tongue-tied. What I mean to say is that you look nice.”

I hide my smile, though I’m sure it’s evident in my tone. “Thank you, Callum.”

“It makes me think—”

“What?”

He sighs. “Nothing. A silly fantasy.”

I throw him a curious look, but he merely smiles sheepishly and gestures ahead.

The Great Hall is full of noise when we reach it, though it barely competes with the beating of my heart. Brodie, the small freckled boy, is playing bagpipes again by the open double doors. In another situation, I might tell him that he has improved. The screeching has started to actually sound like music.

Instead, I let loose a shaky breath. I need to reserve all of my energy to keep my head held high, and to stop myself from running.

“Is he in there? Your king?”

“Not yet, thank the Goddess. He likes to make an entrance.”

I take a deep breath. The air tastes like woodsmoke and whisky.

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