But it was the way he looked back at me that made my heart skip a beat. My eyes darted to the high neck of his collar that grazed his sharp jawline, up to his parted lips and wide eyes. The rest of the room faded away as I held his dark gaze. I wished I could bottle up that awed expression and take it with me always.
If nothing else, it made me stand a little taller.
Briar’s voice broke the spell between our eyes. “You look splendid, Calla.”
I swallowed. I didn’t want to look splendid; I wanted to look strong, something my sister had never understood. Looking at Briar, I bit down on my snicker as I replied, “As do you, Your Highness.”
My twin had changed into a voluminous burgundy gown that matched Grae’s sash. Long satin gloves covered her forearms, and a golden necklace of stag’s antlers draped over her collarbone. She wore her hair twisted up in an elegant bun, a little tiara at the front. Our parents would be proud—the perfect daughter to marry off to a dashing prince.
Briar stood at the head of the table, Grae to her right, and the rest of his guards took up the remaining seats, leaving the one at the far end vacant for me. Ducking my head, I sat as Briar gestured to the others to do the same. I begrudged my sister many things, but I was grateful to not be the one hosting. I would rather be eaten by an ostekke than take her place at the head of the table. This was the first time we had guests in . . . well, ever, and Briar made it look effortless. All those games of pretend that she forced me to play as a child were finally paying off.
As I sat, my crystal goblet filled with golden liquid. I grabbed the glass as I looked around the room to find where Vellia was hiding. It took me a moment before I spotted the wallpaper in the far corner bending. I winked at the warped air where Vellia hid, watching over our dinner. At least there was wine.
“I’m Hector,” the guard to my right said, and I hoped he didn’t think I’d lost my mind for winking at what appeared to be a vacant corner of the room.
Hector looked older than Grae, with sharp eyes and a toothy grin.
“A pleasure to meet you, Hector.”
“And this is my little sister, Sadie,” he gestured to the guard to my left.
“You’ve got to stop introducing me as your little sister,” Sadie snarled.
I chuckled, looking between them. They had the same wide-set eyes, broad noses, and slender arched brows. Sadie wore her short hair braided back and scowled at her brother under her straight black bangs.
“Are you twins?” I asked.
“No.” Hector laughed, taking a sip of his wine. “She’s two years younger.”
“A year and a half,” Sadie corrected. She flicked out a knife from her belt and snicked a white rose in front of her place setting. She had a pinched, morose expression as she surveyed the flower, her long bangs falling into her eyes.
“You see what I have to put up with? It devastated me when Grae picked her for the royal guard.” Hector grinned in a way that told me he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest.
He pointed to the last guard sitting beside Briar. “That’s Maez. She’s Grae’s cousin.”
All three guards wore matching pewter tunics with half-moon chest plates etched in the crest of Damrienn—a phoenix with its wings spread and a crescent moon through a crown above it.
Hector. Sadie. Maez. Too many names. I folded my arms, nodding as I tried to remember, but knowing I’d forget. Names were the least memorable thing about a person. I was far more interested in what caused that scar on Maez’s top lip, which side Sadie would duck to in a fight, and why Hector twisted at the waist when he looked at me instead of turning his neck.
“You don’t need to remember,” Sadie said, as if reading my thoughts. “You can just say ‘hey you’ and we’ll respond.”
“Save that energy for the King’s courtiers,” Hector added with a knowing chuckle. “They won’t give you such leniency.”
I shuddered. Soldiers I could understand, but the smiling, simpering nature of courtiers was something Vellia could never truly prepare us for. They were the highest ranked Wolves—apart from the royal family themselves—with the guards below them, and then the rest of the Wolf families. The pack hierarchy was rigid. Wolves lived and died by their rank, and we were the fortunate ones at the top. Vellia had told us Wolves worked their whole lives to earn the King’s favor and raise themselves within the ranks, and we were already there through virtue of our birth. But until our new pack knew of my birth, my rank was unknowable, and I couldn’t imagine those of the upper echelon taking too kindly to a sudden upstart joining their cohort. Where would I fit within this new world?