2

Thrown to the Wolves

Guests arrive from near and far throughout Draymenk, carrying on diverse conversations scattered around the throne room.

I am tucked away in the back chamber, the safest place to peer out, while praying for the impossible feat of no one noticing my absence. But hiding for these few moments does nothing for the twists and turns of my insides.

I fuss and tug on my gown, adjusting the fabric to make my body shape look smooth. It fits tight in the bodice, hugging each curve. The sleek satin, dyed a deep emerald green, has handsewn beading and lining to depict branches woven across the center. A sequined belt tightens my waist, holding an overskirt and beautiful train. Pockets are sewn in under the overskirt, allowing me to carry Mother's mirror.

But the one thing I am self-conscious of in this gown is the plunging neckline exposing the curves of my breasts as the main attraction.

Betina, my lady-in-waiting, worked with my tailor these last few weeks, ensuring every outfit I wear is unique. While she succeeded in that aspect, she used my love for fashion to help me taunt and lure in more suitors.

Despite my modest reservations, the cheeky woman knew I wouldn't turn down wearing a beautiful dress.

Glancing back to the ballroom, I marvel at the delicate intricacy of each garment the noblewomen wear. The vibrant colors adorned in an array of beads, jewels, and sashes, pair well with the noblemen's velvet vests and leather pants, warming everyone from the chill outside.

The tension remains in my muscles as I hold the door for support. "Sweet Makers, help me," I pray, hoping that honoring them all this week might grant me fortune in finding someone.

I walk myself through every minor detail of how each night this week is coordinated. Grand entrance, dance, converse, repeat. And when everyone is stupidly drunk, I can sneak away to rest.

Niko and I worked diligently last week, ensuring everything was set for the celebrations. From extra staff entertaining and decorating the castle for each ball, to having the guests visit the villages during the day. We planned to narrow down my options after each night, hoping to announce an engagement by the third, with the wedding and union happening at the end of the week.

I wanted it to be a surprise while also get it over with.

I didn't want a long duration to think and grieve my family being absent on a day meant to be filled with happiness.

It is fitting I won't be marrying for love.

My stomach drops as dread looms in the back of my mind. Somehow, I know I am going to ruin this all.

Stress and the fear of failure have been rooted so deeply these last few days my night terrors drove me into sleepwalking.

The knowledge of guests and suitors coming here to my home to see the damage I've caused firsthand—

I jolt from my trance when a hand touches my shoulder, slamming the door shut in an instant. The relief of a scream not escaping vanishes as Niko stands with his arms crossed and his brow arched.

His tousled auburn hair is slicked down, the waves smooth and neat to bring out his amber colored eyes. A deep emerald vest peeks through his black jacket, matching his tailored trousers, his entire ensemble hugging and emphasizing the muscles he trains every day.

I ache to see how they might flex if I were to grip them when on my knees before him—

"You look… good," Niko rasps, voice thick and husky.

I shrivel inward at the compliment, meeting his glinting amber eyes. "You look… good, too." I gulp down a breath.

Niko chuckles, scanning me over, and I avert my gaze when his stare lingers on my chest.

Brushing my sweaty hands against the sides of my gown, I try to appear as if I am smoothing the fabric and not imagining my mouth taking him.

Niko lowers into a formal bow, grabbing my hand to brush his soft lips against my knuckles, eyes blazing. "Care to accompany me to the party?"

The fire in his stare goes straight to my core. Words dry on my tongue, but I nod quickly, trying to remember myself.

Niko rises, his broad frame towering over me as he wraps my hand around his.

My grip tightens, the tingling in my legs leaving my knees wobbly as I brace myself.

Niko opens the door, exchanging hushed words with the guard.

The man walks to the opposite side of the ballroom, alerting the announcer of my arrival.

I cringe when the clanking of the announcer's staff hits the marbled tile floor. Ice swirls to life in my chest, a figurative mask taking place as the man's booming voice silences the room.

"Presenting your host, Queen Tove Clemmensen, and her royal advisor, Lord Nikolaj Drost!"

Bile lurches in my throat as we stride forward, light and bright music filling the quiet void.

Warmth from the lanterns and chandeliers complement the beige-marbled pillars adorned with roses of red, orange, yellow, and white. Shrubbery accents the back walls, framing the high arched windows and wide glass doors opening to the courtyard. The foliage and flowers drape across the ceiling, parallel with the lush runner resting on the steps of the dais.

Niko escorts me through the crowd of nobles, who each lower their head or curtsy. But as we pass, the hushed whispers follow, the awful nickname screeching against my ears.

The walls cage and close me in, and my nails dig into Niko's sleeve as I pretend to be unaffected.

"Ignore them," he urges.

I nod to myself more than him as I keep my expression blank.

As we reach the center of the room, Niko asks, "Ready to dance?"

I beam.

Anything revolving around music is my true calling. From playing piano and swaying on my bench, to the crescendo and buildup of a ballad, to dancing to the violinists in a waltz. Losing myself to the rhythm of any song grants me a haven of joy nothing else in this world ever can.

"Yes," I reply.

Niko guides me into position, and I note the warmth emanating from him. His touch is so close to my bare skin, the hand resting on my back lower than protocol dictates.

My cheeks warm at the thought he is comfortable with me and not merely flirting.

When the music starts, our bodies touch, and I am embraced and woven into the light rhythm. We sway to the elevation of the composition, my heartbeat increasing from the movements, sweat beading along my brow.

I spare a glance around the room, noting the guests and couples paired together, smiling and conversing. But when eyes meet me, a chilling breath caresses the nape of my neck. Each scornful stare is a sharp note not intended to pair with the song.

As Niko pulls me back into the dancing, my head is swimming, and a weight pinches the tips of my toes.

I try to shield my wince.

Niko's expression turns apologetic. "Why did it have to be a waltz?" He groans, twisting me out.

"I can always lead if you want." I snicker as he loops me back in.

"How is that going to work when I have to be the one to show you off?"

The decorations in the room blur as we spin, menacing stares of guests fade away as the push and pull of the waltz settles deep in my bones. My body relaxes as the music calls to me, the rhythm twinkling with my movements becoming more expressive as I bask in the dance.

"You look radiant tonight, Tee," Niko whispers.

My heart constricts at the compliment, wanting to believe it, but my reflexes have me deflecting. "You're killing it with the flirting, Niko."

He pulls a mocking face as the crescendo builds. Niko lifts our hands, spinning me rapidly, my eyes keeping a spot on him to refrain from getting dizzy.

His boyish grin grows with each twirl, tugging my own lips to lift as the world around us quiets. Niko dips me as the music reaches its abrupt conclusion, the two of us breathing heavily. My heart skips as his face inches close to mine, and I lick my lips in anticipation.

The glow of joy shines in his amber eyes. And so does something else.

The thunderous applause draws a sharp breath from my chest, turning away from the proximity of Niko's lips. Embarrassment shrivels in my core, my feelings getting the better of me as Niko guides me upright.

His eyes remain downcast when he bows, and I want to say something.

But when I behold his handsome face again, it is inscrutable.

My heart wants to claw out from my chest and beg him to come back to the moment, but I sense a wall forming between us. My mind is telling me to let it go and remember the moment we shared is orchestrated.

But even as Niko reaches for my hand to kiss it, I can't help but feel that if I let him go, I will never get him back.

"Your Majesty," Niko says as the crowd nears. Amber eyes I have come to love and admire every day stare before he adds, "Good luck." He walks away, leaving me stranded amid a swarm of men.

I try to call him back, but my voice is overwhelmed by the requests of noblemen surrounding me. The voices blend, echoing in my ears, drowning me more by the second.

A rich voice says to my right, "Your Majesty!"

"Queen Tove!"

A voice to my left, deep and low, vibrates in my ears.

"May I have this dance?" each of the men ask.

I tune out the repetitive questions, knowing many could be a part of the rumors that follow me. Even though I want to waste and wither away, I have a duty to my kingdom.Finding someone to marry will lift the kingdom's spirits. Finding someone could show I am not as evil as my people claim. Finding someone to marry will help me move on from Niko.

Now I just need to find someone tolerable enough who won't demand I be tied to their hip.

Royal protocol and manners I've known my entire life click into place, pairing with the indifferent mantle of the Snow Queen.

I greet each nobleman, stopping on a familiar face.

The lean man wears a navy suit adorned with white flowers on one side of the lapel. Short blond hair is swept back from his tanned face where his cheeks are hollowed in. The man's slightly crooked nose sniffs as dark-blue eyes peer into mine as if he can hear my own thoughts.

I greet Axidoria's wealthiest nobleman with a tight-lipped smile. "Lord Ulrik, a pleasure to see you here."

Ulrik Albertsen's family is as old as the Clemmensens. The Albertsen's lands grant them access to metals and gems, which are heavily traded throughout Draymenk. But the power and wealth from their property has gone to their heads.

Ulrik recently stepped into the role of lord, and while he has been kind when we've interacted, the man is blunt and rude, always the first to insult me in meetings Niko holds in my stead.

"Your Majesty, it is an honor to be here," Ulrik chimes in a lofty voice, the scent of leather and tobacco overpowering my nose, making it hard to breathe.

I feign kindness. "I am grateful for your presence and contributions to the festivities this week."

"I was hoping we might be able to discuss—"

"My lord," I interrupt, hoping to steer away from politics tonight. "I was wondering if you would be my partner for this next dance."

Ulrik's yellowed teeth gleam. "It would be my pleasure, Queen Tove." He extends his hand.

I inhale one fresh breath before he notices, then take his hand and follow him to an open space on the dance floor. I keep up appearances, remaining calm as I fight to tune out the whispers.

The next song is traditional, meant for all guests to dance together. Stomping feet and clapping hands surround each coupled pair. We take off to the faster tempo, Ulrik and I shuffling through partners, his stench of smoke following me.

Switching between partners in twists and spins, everyone laughs. The shared moments lift my lips, happy I was able to bring a small glimpse of joy to my people after all the wrongs I've done.

When the dancers form parallel lines, couples join hands and take their turns running down the center.

Ulrik and I wait side by side, clapping to the rhythm and preparing to join, but the pungent smell of tobacco is bitter enough to water my eyes when he leans in.

"I hear you are looking for a husband."

Despite the nausea curling in my stomach, marrying someone like Ulrik would be good for the kingdom. Many people are familiar with him and support his family. His riches could help fund extra clothing and food, and we could negotiate his resources.

Yet I cannot help but clarify, "My Lord Ulrik, I am currently looking for a good dance partner." I rush down the center of the lines with a different nobleman, laughing at myself.

The moment dissolves when I accidentally bump into someone at the end.

My brows lift in surprise at the man I collide with.

Black hair, bright blue eyes, and a scar are all I catch before Ulrik takes my hand and sweeps me away.

The showmanship of Ulrik's effort leaves me startled and amused, and his smile turns genuine as we twirl through the line of people. He does have his own sort of attraction, and I debate an arranged marriage with him again.

But then I remember the hatred he spews about me.

The music ends, and I break away, but Ulrik clasps onto my wrist before I can escape. "Was I an adequate dance partner?" he asks out of breath.

I dip my head, hoping the tightness in my voice doesn't hint at anything more. "Yes." I politely tug my hand away. "Thank you for the dance, Lord Ulrik."

"I would like to talk with you in private later."

"I will see if Lord Nikolaj can arrange something," I say with dismissal.

Ulrik's face tightens, and he flexes his jaw. "Of course, Your Majesty." His lips purse as he blinks away his resentment. "I thank you."

Ulrik departs as I scan the crowd for Niko.

Not finding those amber eyes I know so well lead me into scouring for the man I bumped into. I should apologize, but I don't see any man with a scar.

Defeated in my search, I retreat to the small dais at the edge of the ballroom that hosts a throne.

Unlike the one in the main room, now frozen, this throne is perfect for appearances this week. It stands out against the beige stones and marbled floor, but my thoughts drift back to the rooms slowly freezing over or already frozen over in my home.

Those quiet halls tug at my soul.

My old rooms, my sister's rooms, and even the piano room, my favorite room of all, are completely frozen. It hacks away at my heart bit by bit as I lower into the throne, wishing to strum a melody on my instrument rather than be here, surrounded by people.

I lean into the chair and almost forgo appearances when no one approaches. While it could be interpreted as an insult, I count it as a miracle. No one really wants to converse with me without Niko present.

His presence always gives them enough courage to face me.

A staff member approaches with a single glass of liquid.

I reach for it eagerly and tell them, "Thank you."

I swig the contents down, my lips smacking at the mild sweetness of the wine, and I love how it instantly warms me. Returning the empty cup, I dismiss the man.

He bows and retreats to the sides of the ballroom.

Footsteps from behind have my lips tugging upward, and I know immediately it is Niko. And although I want to revisit what happened earlier, I can't help but feel awkward.

I resist the urge to say something stupid, rubbing my clammy palms against my skirt.

The outline of my mother's mirror presses into my thigh, and I clutch it in my pocket, a slight sense of calm returning.

He stands at my side, hands clasped behind his back. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Niko asks.

Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I bite the drying skin off at the side, trying to appear fine. "I am. The wine is marvelous."

"It's from Kezrar, the best in the kingdom."

Another staff member steps up with a newly filled cup of wine.

Eager for more of the sweetness, I reach for the glass, stopping when a warning cough comes from Niko.

I lift a brow in question. "What?"

"Are you sure you want to do that this early into the night?" His tone is lined with caution.

I glance back at the staff member and the glass of wine before my hand falls in defeat, hating Niko for being right.

I politely address the man. "Could you come back after a little while?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," he replies with a bow, leaving with the glass of wine my mouth salivates after.

I blow air from my lungs in frustration, and just my luck, my stomach growls. I should have asked for something to eat.

Sparing a glance at Niko, I knit my eyebrows when he shuffles his weight. "Do you need me to get you a chair?"

He scans the guests. "No, no. I am alright. It's this next part I am not looking forward to."

"This was your idea." My cheeks heat, and my head buzzes from the wine in my empty stomach.

Niko sticks out his tongue like a child, and I clamp my lips together to avoid snorting aloud, recovering as a group of men approach.

Niko takes a breath, folding his arms. "Here we go."

"Here we go," I repeat, mastering my features and adjusting my posture.

I extend my hand to the first suitor, praying to Alora I might find someone who could understand me and not view me as the Snow Queen everyone claims me to be.