Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 140412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
I read on.
I am proud to call you my mate. And today, I will be proud to see you become my queen. You are not my second choice. You were born for this.
-Nathan
My heart lodges in my throat. I try to clear it away.
“Is something wrong?” Hannah asks.
I blink to hold back tears that surprise me with their sudden presence, and I shake my head, so they won’t be heard in my voice.
Hannah claps her hands together. “Then come on. It’s time for you to become a queen.”
CHAPTER 35
“Ready?”
I glance up from the mirror. Staring at myself isn’t going to fix any of the myriad flaws I suddenly find with my appearance, which has been impeccably styled by a gaggle of strangers who brushed and blushed and zipped and tucked me into the regal woman in my reflection.
Clare stands at the door, looking more like a queen than I ever will. She wears a gown with a similar cut to mine, a faux-Tudor look with heavy brocade trumpet sleeves and a tight bodice with a low, square neck. My skirt is a little fuller than hers, and mine is white and gold where hers is pale yellow; when we walk out of my sitting room—currently a staging area for all the preparation that went into my look—we make a swishing sound.
“I’m nervous,” I whisper, as if it’s not a foregone conclusion.
Clare, always the more practical of my two sisters, advises, “Don’t let them see it.”
The lack of comfort is oddly comforting.
In the entry hall of the residence, we’re joined by a retinue of thrall guards, and Tara, who waits in an identical gown to Clare’s. She beams the moment she sees me. “You look amazing!”
“Thanks.” It’s not my most pressing concern, but I put a hand to my wavy updo self-consciously, anyway. “I’m sweating. Do I have pit stains?”
“Not yet,” Tara tries to reassure me.
Tries being the operative word. I give her a smile and take her hand, squeezing it lightly as we walk.
When we reach the hall outside the throne room, that’s when the panic truly sets in.
Nearly every member of the pack will be present, whether they want to, or not. Hannah told me, straight from Ryan, that there are more members of the pack disgruntled by Nathan’s handling of the assassination plot and the sentences he pronounced. But those people will be here today because they can’t risk being seen as rebellious.
People like Ashton.
I don’t know if I want to see him in the crowd. A part of me feels like it’s awesome that he has to watch me become more powerful than him, after he spent so much time lording his power over me. Another part doesn’t want him to lay eyes on me ever again. People like Ashton are dangerous, letting their resentment fester until it drives them to do truly abhorrent things.
I learned that from the mortal obsession with true crime documentaries.
Ashton already tried to kill my husband. What are the chances he’ll stop now that he failed? He’s lost everything, so there’s no danger to him.
I stand outside the throne room doors and take a deep breath. There’s actual fanfare, from real trumpets, and the huge doors open to admit me.
All thought of Ashton or anyone else, really, clear my mind entirely. I instantly focus on Nathan, seated on his throne, the crown of our pack leader shining silver against his dark hair. The King’s crown is a simple, polished band with peaks that rise up in the shape of fangs; pack legend is that they’re actual werewolf teeth. I suppose now that I’m about to be queen, I could find out.
I should make a list of all the weird things I’ve always wanted to know. Since life around Aconitum Hall seems like it’s going to be pretty boring, maybe I can write a definitive history of the pack or something.
Nathan doesn’t rise as I approach the hierophant and his acolytes waiting at the foot of the dais, but he watches my every step with a smile of pride that, though he tries to subdue it, I can notice even if nobody else might.
“You were born for this.”
That’s what he believes. That I am meant to be a queen and rule at his side. With every step I take toward the throne, I begin to believe it, too.
No one ever seriously sets their goal on becoming a queen. At least, nobody I’ve ever talked to. Sure, it’s fun to pretend when you’re a child, but as you grow in the pack it becomes clear that some families are destined for royalty, nobility, seats on the council, while others are valued members but not worthy of the upper strata of werewolf society. While my parents were wealthy, I never considered the possibility of even being mated to a council member.