Page 43 of The Wolf King

“Yes,” I say.

“Good. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

I pinch my cheeks, bringing a little color into them, raise my chin, then nod to myself.

I will survive this.

I head out into the corridor. “Okay. I’m ready to meet your king.”

Chapter Fifteen

Callum falls into step beside me.

I should be taking note of the way through this labyrinth. I should be mapping out the exits, and memorizing the rooms in this castle where the Wolves await.

Instead, my attention is ensnared by the man beside me. His eyes travel over my messy hair, then linger on tartan dress.

He swallows before focusing on the corridor ahead.

My throat tightens. “Is there a problem?” I ask, pulling my fingers through the tangled knots of my hair.

I do not want to be nervous about meeting with Callum’s king. But my stomach is turning over and over. If I’d just had a little more time to get ready—to compose myself and present myself in a way that is more fitting for the occasion—then perhaps this strange ball of energy inside me would have subsided.

“No.” He shrugs. “You look—”

“Don’t say I look nice. I don’t. I have not slept properly, I’ve been on a horse for two days, and I haven’t even had time to bathe!”

“I was going to say you look like a wolf.”

“That’s not a compliment!”

He grins. “But you do look nice.”

“So you’re a liar as well as a killer?”

“I’m only one of those things, Princess.” We head down a stairway. “And I seem to rememberyouhitting a solider on the head when we were at Sebastian’s castle, so perhaps I’m not the only violent one here.”

“I didn’t kill him,” I protest.

“No, you didn’t. It was a pretty weak hit.” He raises his eyebrows. “We’ll have to do something about that if you’re to stay here with us for much longer.”

“I saved you!”

The corner of his mouth tilts. “You caused a minor distraction, I suppose.”

I cannot believe he is referring to the single most outlandish thing I have ever done in my life as aminor distraction.

I have only known Callum for a couple of days, yet he is already the most irritating male I have ever encountered.

We head down another flight of steps, then through a narrow corridor. The different stages of the lunar cycle are carved along the stone walls. There’s a set of double doors at the end of the corridor with a colorful coat of arms hanging over it, depicting a wolf and a moon.

That must be where we are heading. I wonder if the man behind those doors will be cruel like the king I know.

“It’s going to be okay, you know,” says Callum softly. “The king is—”

He halts. All the muscles along his jaw tighten. For a moment, he is not the teasing Callum with mischief in his eyes. He’s the Callum who was in that dog-fighting ring—still and solid. A warrior. His biceps bulge against his sleeves.

He pushes me against the wall, and presses his palm over my mouth.

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