Chairs scrape back and heads turn as Morgana appears in the doorway. She wears a silver ballgown with a portrait neckline that leaves her shoulders bare and shows off an impressive sapphire and opal necklace. The centerpiece is a large opal surrounded by diamonds, resting in the hollow of her breasts. Long sleeves with cuffs of delicate, scalloped lace drape from elbow to wrist. Her skirt is satin with a chiffon overlay; dozens of diamonds are sewn into the skirt and bodice, making Morgana sparkle like a cloud in a lightning storm. Instead of the state crown, a thin silver tiara set with sapphires and opals rests atop her head. Her long white hair is curled and flows down over one shoulder in loose ringlets.

She sweeps into the room, chin held high. Power crackles in her wake and I feel my shoulders roll forward in submission. It never ceases to amaze me the control she holds over all of us. Heads bow as Alpha Thorne guides her to one of two chairs at the head of the table. Luna Amelia and their son, Russell, stand behind their chairs: the luna on the left, the heir on the right.

Alpha Thorne reaches for his wine glass and a human serving girl appears next to his shoulder, filling the cup. She quickly darts around Morgana to fill hers.

"It is my sincere pleasure to welcome Your Majesty to Crimsonshadow Pack," the alpha announces, lifting his glass and turning towards Morgana. "Your presence here honors us all. We are eager to forge new bonds with the crown and share all that this estate can provide with you."

Morgana's smile is thin, but polite—a queen's smile. "We thank you for your hospitality, Alpha Thorne. We are eager to explore your beautiful lands and pray for a successful hunt."

"May the Goddess will it so," Alpha Thorne replies, holding out his wine glass. Morgana tilts her head slightly, lips twitching as she touches her glass to the alpha's.

"May the Goddess will it so," she repeats, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a small sip.

Alpha Thorne practically downs his wine and gestures for more. "Please, be seated," he says, holding out Morgana's chair. She sinks onto the cushioned surface, face perfectly composed as he slides her toward the table.

I sit down as the servants begin to circulate with covered dishes and bottles of wine. My eyes scan the table, watching as some dishes are placed on the table and the cloches removed, revealing mounds of fresh-baked bread and artful piles of fruit. As I reach for a strawberry, sparkles from Morgana's dress catch my eye. I turn and our eyes lock across the length of the table.

Morgana's lips are pursed as she stares at me, eyes slightly narrowed. What could be the matter? I cock my head, raising my eyebrows in a wordless query. She blinks and leans back to answer a question from Alpha Thorne.

"That was odd," I murmur, setting the strawberry on my plate.

"What?" Lord Blackwood asks.

Goddess, I forgot he was there. "Nothing," I reply, stabbing the strawberry with the tiniest of forks and popping it into my mouth. Perhaps I was misinterpreting Morgana's expression. Werewolf eyesight is better than a human's, but it is a very long table with objects in the way.

I try not to think about it and reach for another strawberry, but a servant lowers a bowl of soup before me.

"Will you be joining us for the hunt tomorrow, Lady Isabel?" Lord Blackwood asks.

I pause, spoon dipping into the soup. "Yes." I had reservations about being allowed to join, but Morgana insisted I would be joining them.

"Did you hunt often in Stormrider? That's on the border, correct?"

I take a spoonful of soup—a light chicken broth with tiny pieces of chicken, potato, and carrot—and swallow before replying. "Yes. Alpha Maximus, Morgana's father, holds hunting parties every full moon to fill the pack larders."

"Are there no farms in Stormrider?"

"We're a small pack, tucked into the woods. A few families have cattle, but they are used mainly for milk production. My family has long tended the gardens; we grow tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, beets ... simple things." I trail off with a shrug.

"Ah." Lord Blackwood reaches for a small roll of bread, breaks it, and uses the soft insides to mop up the remains of his soup. "Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy tomorrow's hunt. It's considered a rite of passage for a young wolf to climb the cliffs alone and bring down a ram."

"Is it difficult?" I ask, setting my soup spoon aside as a servant removes the bowl.

"The climb? Not the way we will be going. The trail taken by our youth is more difficult."

My lips curl into a smile. "You had better not let the queen hear that," I tell him.

His eyebrows lift. "Why?"

"Because she'll insist on taking the hard route. Morgana never likes to do things the easy way."

Lord Blackwood blinks, then he chuckles. "It shall be our little secret then, eh, Lady Isabel?"

Is it wrong of me to like the way his teeth flash behind that blond beard? The way his eyes crinkle in amusement? Ah, Goddess, I cannot become infatuated with this man!

I can feel a slow flush creep up my chest and I place a hand there, eyes fixed on the next course laid in front of me by a servant.

Lord Blackwood leans over, face creased in concern. "Are you all right?"

His worry only makes the flush deepen. I can feel the heat rise from my chest. "Oh, yes," I temporize. "The room is just a little warmer than I am used to."

He sits back down and glances at the unlit fireplace. "I suppose the climate can be difficult to adapt to," he says after a beat. "I was born and raised here, so I don't find it uncomfortable. I suspect I would have trouble adjusting to the cold in Stormrider."

Another glint off of Morgana's dress draws my attention. Her head turns almost immediately, saying something to Luna Amelia. Hm. Perhaps she's worried about how I'm faring, seated amongst people I do not know.

That's it.

She's merely checking up on me.

I can feel my face softening at the thought. It's just like Morgana to keep an eye out for me.

Lord Blackwood is saying something and I wasn't paying attention. "I'm sorry?"

He chuckles. "I was just asking what you do to pass the time."

I'm feeling particularly playful now, so I reply, "Other than my duties as the queen's handmaiden?"

His laugh draws the attention of several people around us. "Yes."

"I read and crochet. It's usually herbology texts, but lately, I've become interested in travelogues and adventure novels."

"Do you have a desire to travel?"

I tip my head slightly, pondering the question. If you asked me that when I was still a child back in Stormrider, I would say "No". Our pack had everything a quiet, studious child like me ever needed. But now that I've traveled the kingdom with Morgana, I am interested in places beyond home—beyond our borders. "Perhaps," I say. "It is difficult to go places when you're needed at the queen's side. And yourself?"

"Do I wish to travel?"

"Yes."

Lord Blackwood takes a sip of wine, his gaze growing distant. He swallows, then turns to me. "I suppose I shall be doing my fair share of traveling in the army."

My eyebrows lift. "Oh? You're a soldier?"

"Training to be an officer," he corrects me with a wink. "I'm enrolled in Venger Military Academy."

I purse my lips. "Is that in Bellwood?"

"No, that's for gammas and omegas. Venger is in Pineborough."

"Do you see the dragons often?" Pineborough is close to the border with the Glaciaris Empire, home of the dragon-shifters. I recall what Morgana said about the dragons wanting more iron for their gemstones, but I don't ask Lord Blackwood about any tension. I'm not sure if Morgana was supposed to keep that information to herself.

Lord Blackwood shrugged. "Sometimes. They don't cross the border, of course, but if it's a good day, you can see them flying around."

Another course arrives: sliced rare beef simmering in a rosemary sauce, accompanied by herbed potatoes. I nod in response, about to lift a slice of beef to my mouth before I remember to cut it. I sigh and pick up the knife. We are wolves; it's not as if we need to worry about choking. I never understood the necessity of cutting our food into tiny pieces, but that's the custom in high-ranking circles.

"What do you hope to accomplish in the army?" I ask, chewing slowly.

He chuckles, shoving a whole slice into his mouth. So much for knives. "Fame? Fortune? Family honor? Crimsonshadow Pack has a long tradition of distinguished service to the crown."

"It's an honorable pursuit."

Lord Blackwood nods absently and pops another slice in his mouth. He dabs his lips with a napkin, then asks, "And what do you hope to accomplish as the queen's handmaiden?"

His question gives me pause. I've never thought about it before. There have been questions and concerns about my suitability for the position as a gamma, but no one has ever asked me what I want to do with the title. And honestly, I've never given it too much thought. I've never been ambitious—I left that to Morgana. As a gamma, my life was charted from birth—to serve. Whether it is to the pack as their herbologist or as the queen's stalwart companion.

"To be there for the queen," I answer honestly.

"It's an honorable pursuit," he replies, mirroring my words.

Perhaps it's the warmth in the room or the wine, but Lord Blackwood doesn't sound as sincere when he says that as I did. Oh, well. I'm the Whore of Daroonga. What did I expect?

I smile and cut a slice of beef into three pieces.