Page 174 of The Wolf King

“The lass retains her innocence,” he says.

I frown, wondering why he lied while simultaneously cursing him for it.

“A trade can be made,” says James.

Sebastian flicks his wrist.

The man with the box approaches.

“Duncan,” says James.

The blond male dismounts and grabs the box. My heart stops, and the wind seems to hold her breath as Duncan opens it.

His eyebrows raise, and he shows the contents to James. There’s a white rock within it that seems to absorb the moonlight.

Is it the Heart of the Moon? Or a replica?

I wonder if I will ever know.

James nods, then pushes me forward. I stumble the few paces away from the Northlands Wolves, the long grass snagging on my skirts.

And then I am on the Borderlands side of this war. Sebastian, my betrothed and my new captor, at my side.

Sebastian does not acknowledge me. Nor does he show any indication that he means to leave. James stands just as still.

A strange energy hangs over the valley—taut and dangerous.

“We finally meet,” says Sebastian. “Your Highness.”His smile is mocking.

“Aye, so we do.” James’s voice is quiet, yet filled with menace. “And what an honor it is when usually you have your men do your dirty work for you.”

“Oh, I thought I’d make an exception for this.”

My muscles clench. At the sides of the valley, James’s men are readying to charge. Behind me, the air is thick. Violence whispers through the trees. I can smell the promise of war in the scent of male sweat and silver and steel.

“You’re a fine specimen, you know,” says Sebastian. “You’d do well in our fighting rings.”

The wolf flickers in Duncan’s eyes at the insult to his king. One of the horses drags her hoof across the earth. Sebastian’s men put their hands on their swords.

James merely smiles. “Is that so?”

“Oh yes,” says Sebastian.

My gaze flits across the landscape, as skittish as a rabbit among Wolves. I cannot find a route to escape. Blake was right. When the battle begins, I will be consumed within its jaws. Did I make the wrong choice?

No. I could not marry James.

I made my decision, and I will live—or die—by it.

I turn my insides to stone, to steel.

“Better than your mother, at least,” says Sebastian.

James’s expression darkens.

“No. She was not made for the fighting ring.” Sebastian lowers his voice. “Although we got our entertainment from her in other ways.”

The valley holds its breath. Hate rises within me, sharp and bitter. I feel sick. How could I ever have agreed to wed this monster?

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