Page 134 of The Wolf King

I’m trying to think of something I can say to annoy Blake, when the bagpipe music stops.

I breathe in sharply. Callum tenses, his hard bicep brushing my arm. A hush descends over the Great Hall. For a moment, the air is thick with silence.

The pipes start playing again, but it’s a more regal piece with a slower rhythm.

“It’ll be okay,” mutters Callum, and I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or himself as the crowd parts to create a walkway in the center of the room.

My heart beats fast. I think of the little that I know of the Wolf King. He united seven warring Northlands clans and big brutish alphas follow his command.

He likes bold women.

I need him to like me if I am to escape execution, and to avoid going back to Sebastian.

Be bold, I tell myself, though my insides are twisting and a storm is billowing in my chest.Be bold.

I raise my chin as all gazes turn to the back of the Great Hall.

The Wolf King steps through the wooden doors.

He looks like no king I have encountered before. Tall and muscular, he wears no crown or fancy jewels, and dresses simply in a cream shirt and kilt. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing tattoos inked on his corded forearms. His tangled hair is brown, and it brushes his powerful shoulders. I cannot quite tell his age, but I’d wager he is around thirty.

He commands all the attention in the room, and as he strides toward us, the Wolves drop to one knee.

As he gets closer, and my pulse races faster, I notice that his kilt is predominantly red, like Callum’s, but it’s a different pattern. It seems to contain the colors of all the clans.

He walks up the steps of the platform, his boots thudding and shaking the wood. The alphas all dip their heads deferentially, Callum included.

I, however, cannot stop staring.

The Wolf King’s eyes land on mine, and he frowns. Slowly, he walks toward me. Callum tenses, and my insides clench.

Be bold.

He seems to appraise me for a moment.

“It’s customary to kneel in the presence of a king,” he says. His voice is low and powerful, thick with the accent of the Northlands.

I always thought my wedding day was the moment my whole life was building toward, but now, I think perhaps it was this one.

I have one moment to make an impression. One moment to show I am not a useless doll. Nor a pawn to be played in a game between men. Nor a statue, made of stone, with nothing inside.

I spared Ryan in that fighting ring. I chose to come with Callum to this Kingdom of Wolves. I bartered with him for my freedom.

Be bold, my pounding heartbeat demands.Be bold.

I swallow and raise my chin.

“A real princess does not kneel to a false king,” I say.

There’s a collective intake of breath within the Great Hall. A few of the alphas step forward. Shouts ring through the room. Robert’s hand curls around his sword.

I can barely focus on the disruption I have created. The hall is blurring around me. The adrenaline that pumps through my veins makes everything seem faraway.

I brace myself. I wait for the Wolf King to strike me down, to push me to my knees, or throw me into the dungeons.

As my pulse calms, I notice his displeasure is focused on Callum—who has stepped forward, his arm in front of mine. His head is no longer dipped, and his hard gaze is locked on the Wolf King in direct challenge.

My insides twist.Goddess, what have I done?

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