moonshadows

My guest looks almost frightened to be escorted to the small, informal room in which I am sitting.

“Serephina.” My smile is charming, but cool. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’m honored, your Majesty,” she murmurs, eyes downcast as she curtseys.

Inwardly, I flinch. It may not be how she thinks, but I associate that level of formality with an equal level of emotional distancing. “Just ‘my lady’ if you are not comfortable calling me by name, please,” I correct.

Halfway out of her curtsey, she freezes and looks up at me with wide eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. “I- yes, my lady.”

She sits, I gesture a servant forward, we fortify ourselves with tea and tiny pastries.

“Your lady mother,” I begin once we are alone again – or as alone as we can be with Golthak and two Royal Guard in the room. “Unless I am mistaken, she is likely unhappy with you for spoiling her game yet again.”

Serephina casts her gaze down again, into her teacup. “You are correct, my lady.”

“You did me a great service,” I say quietly, and she looks up in surprise. “You opened my eyes to the fact that I had been letting my personal feelings for my lord husband interfere with the duties I agreed to perform when he married me.”

She blushes at the reminder of our first meeting. “You opened mine,” she replies. “Fair is fair.”

“Indeed. That is why, Serephina, I have asked you to visit with me. I am the alpha female of the wolf pack that is Stormwind’s nobility, but I am a stranger to my new territory. You will gain prestige from your association with me, will you not?” I hold her eyed until she nods, then smile grimly. “And furthermore, you will gain protection from your lady mother.”

It’s dawning on my young guest that I am not displeased with her.

“I am your servant, my lady,” she says slowly. “How may I serve?”

I sip my tea, marshaling my thoughts. “It has been made quite clear, I trust, that Stormwind’s monarchs cannot be played against each other.”

Serephina grins. “Whatever you said to Lady Calriss, you terrified her. No one will dare try anything like that again.”

“Indeed. But what else do they think of me? Be honest,” I chide when she looks about to dance around something. Remembering Varian’s words, I smile grimly. “I can’t change if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

My guest sets her teacup down, examines a pastry, and takes a deep breath. “In the eyes of the nobility, my lady, you are an interloper. A common woman pretending to something greater than what she is, a Horde savage…an orc in a dress.”

The image of my brother wearing my wedding gown flashes before my eyes, and I find myself laughing. After a moment, Serephina joins me.

“I’m sorry, Serephina, but I was imaging my brother…” My words dissolve into undignified giggles.

“That’s okay, my lady, I was imagining your protector in your coronation gown.”

Golthak grunts. “Not even if I were dead.”

With an effort, we compose ourselves. “So I am an uncivilized interloper. Why?”

“You don’t behave the way the nobility does,” Serephina says apologetically. “You speak correctly, and you hold yourself correctly, but you don’t sew, or dance, or even go hawking the way the men do.”

“I hold myself separate,” I say slowly, remembering my integration into orcish society. “And thus, although my position demands respect, I earn none for myself.”

Serephina looks relieved at my lack of offense. “Exactly, my lady.”

My smile is fierce and predatory. “I do not hunt with the pack, and thus the lesser females resent my place within it and think to themselves that they might take it from me, if they are strong enough. How can I best correct this?”

“Dance,” she says instantly. “My mother…” Cheeks pink, she looks away. “In a month and a half, my mother will be holding a ball to ‘show off her eligible daughter’. If you were to attend with your husband the king – I mean, naturally you’re both invited, but his Majesty doesn’t often attend events he’s not hosting in some way. But if you were to attend, and be seen dancing…”

“Not only would it make me look better, but some of that glamour would rub off on you, as well.”

Wordlessly, still flushing, she nods.

“I don’t know how to dance. How…?”

“I can recommend my dance tutor,” she says hurriedly. “He speaks bluntly, but I…ah…don’t think you would mind so much as another lady might.”

Silently, I regard her for a long moment. “Do you stand to gain so great a social standing from this?” I ask quietly.

She toys with her pastry, then puts it down. “As you said, my lady, you’re the alpha wolf. I have already thrown my lot in with you by informing you of my lady mother’s plan with Lady Calriss.”

“I see. You’ve hitched your star to mine, and either you gain enough glory by your connection to me that you may write your own path, or you must slink back to your mother with your tail between your legs, and beg her mercy.” Tightly, I smile. “I would be indebted to you if you were to send word to your dance tutor that I wish to learn from him, and even more so were you to attend my lessons with me.”

Serephina looks at me with naked hope. “You’ll accept my lady mother’s invitation, then? Will King Varian…”

My smile thaws somewhat. “I will. We will. I believe I can even convince him to dance with you, if you like.”

The color on her cheeks says clearly that she would like, very well indeed.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” she says after a diversion of tea and cake. “I’m afraid I haven’t quite shaken my childish fancy of him. I know he must be presented unflatteringly in the Horde, but here in Stormwind he was quite the tragic figure. The young king, grieving for his bride, raising his son alone…” she busies herself with her pastry.

“Would you like to meet him?” I ask in a sudden fit of mischief. “Anduin, I mean. You’ll be dancing with my lord husband soon enough, after all, and I expect he’ll look in on my lessons at least once or twice unless I explicitly forbid it.”

“Forgive me, my lady, but…why would you…?”

“I see we’re going to have this conversation,” I sigh. “Serephina…remember when we met, I told you that there were noblemen who would beat girls, or speak harshly to them without reason, or take what they wanted with no regard for the girl’s desires?”

Slowly, warily, she nods.

“Before I met Varian, before I was the Warchief’s sister, I was the unwilling mistress to Lieutenant General Aedelas Blackmoore. The things I suffered…” Briefly, I close my eyes and shudder. “As I said, Varian is a gentleman. He was aware, before he asked for my hand – indeed, I made him so on the day we met – that I had no interest whatsoever in a romantic relationship after my experiences with Blackmoore. And, because he is a gentleman, he respects my occasional needs for privacy and distance.”

Her mouth forms a small O. “Then…when he stopped showing you affection…”

Behind me, Golthak grunts his approval and silently, I agree. Serephina is more clever than I’d initially expected. “Yes,” I confirm for her. “He did so because I asked him to.”

“He still loves you,” she breathes, eyes shining. “Oh, that’s so romantic! …I’m sorry, my lady, but it is.”

“I know,” I sigh. “He’s a good man, and I feel bad that I don’t return his affections, but…”

Serephina glances around the room before leaning closer. “I was violently ill on shrimp once, as a child,” she confesses in a hushed voice. “For years after, my stomach would turn just looking at them, and I still can’t bear to eat anything with shrimp in it. I know it’s not quite the same, but I can understand the aversion.”

“But you didn’t marry the shrimp and have it look at you with those deadly eyes,” I retort dryly. Abruptly, I stand and smooth my skirts. “Come with me, I’ll introduce you to Anduin.” Her wide eyes make me smile gently. “I must warn you, however, he has his father’s eyes.”

“I…” She looks down, blushing heavily, as she stands as well. “I’ve never looked his Majesty in the eyes.”

“But on the balcony…”

“I was too shy.”

“Because he’s your king?” I ask as I lead the way out of the room. “Or because of your fantasy?”

“A little of both,” she answers bashfully.

“He’s just a man, Serephina. He has his quirks and flaws the same as any other. Being a king doesn’t make him a paragon of manly ideal.”

She looks too flustered to notice where we’re going. “That’s easy for you to say, my lady. You’re married to him.”

“His orcish is atrocious.”

Startled, she chokes on a laugh. “What?”

“His grammar is horrendous, outdone only by his accent. He sounds the way most humans imagine orcs to be, because he learned the language in battle.” I stop and smile as my guest leans against a wall, laughing so hard that she must hug herself from the effort. “I am convinced he does not own a comb or brush, or that if he does, he does not deign to use them because he seems to not know how. And once, he was so angry that he punched a wall with enough force that he broke his hand – and then had to ask my brother to heal it because there was no one else around.”

“Please, my lady, no more!” Serephina wipes tears of mirth away from her eyes, gasping. “I would like to be able to look my king in the eyes without dissolving into undignified laughter.”

“He’s just a man,” I repeat soothingly. “He is not some untouchable ideal by virtue of his birth. See him as a man whose occupation is king; you’ll gain more respect from him if you can see the person and not just the crown.”

After a few strained breaths, she regains her composure and we continue walking.

“Why do you dislike him so, my lady?” she asks quietly after a few moments.

“He jumps to conclusions without all of the evidence and leaps into action without thinking, and innocent people pay the price for his brashness.” I take a deep breath. “But he is aware that he does this, and trusts me to call him on it. That is why he proposed; that is why I accepted. Ah, here we are.” I stop outside a door with two Royal Guard stationed by it. “Wait here just a moment.”

“Of course, my lady.”

One of the guards opens the door for me, and I peer in. “Anduin?”

“Taretha!” He grins up from his book, papers and quill and inkpot arranged around him.

I step just inside. “Anduin, I want you to meet Miss Serephina, Lady Dalia’s daughter. She’s going to be around quite a bit for the next month or so while I learn to dance.”

His eyes crinkle with amusement. “I’d be delighted.”

Serephina follows at my gesture as I step inside the room, and curtseys deeply enough that she doesn’t see Anduin stifle a brief look of terror at her dark hair. “I am honored, your highness,” she murmurs.

“Charmed, Miss Serephina,” he returns, standing to bow. “How did you convince Taretha to learn to dance?”

“I…” She trails off, suddenly tongue-tied as Varian’s deadly eyes stare into her from Anduin’s face.

“I am in her debt for telling me about Lady Calriss hanging all over your father,” I supply dryly. “Her mother is holding a ball for her, so I am returning the favor by promising my presence, and Varian’s.”

“That was bravely done,” Anduin says, admiration in his voice and in the lift of his eyebrows.

She flushes. “I used to have a silly infatuation with the king. The queen opened my eyes to…certain things…and after that, well, I saw Lady Calriss acting like a shameless sow and I just couldn’t keep silent.”

“I’ve promised her a dance with your father.”

Anduin grins. “Are you sure that’s wise? He doesn’t dance very well.”

When Serephina groans and covers her face, I can’t help but laugh. He looks at me curiously, and I explain that I told her about Varian’s lack of skill with a comb.

“It’s true,” he says earnestly. “When Taretha has breakfast with us, she doesn’t let Father leave the room until she’s satisfied with his hair.”

I wave the comment away. “It saves time later.”

“I think he does it on purpose,” he counters good-naturedly.

Now it’s my turn to groan. “I know he does. He tried meeting the ambassador from Silvermoon with his hair looking like a badly-tamed haystack, and you know how the sin’dorei are about personal grooming. The ambassador didn’t say anything, but I saw him looking at Varian’s hair often enough that I felt humiliated. I told him afterwards that if he wasn’t going to brush his hair properly, to not do it at all and let me, and he took me at my word.”

“I’ve got a few years yet before I’m expected to dance,” Anduin says suddenly, “but it wouldn’t hurt to learn early. If you and Miss Serephina need a practice partner, Taretha, I’d be glad to join you.” He grins mischievously at me, missing the delicate flush that colors our guest’s cheeks at that. “Perhaps we could shame my father into taking a few lessons.”

I grin right back. “Ten gold says he insists he knows how, but secretly takes lessons after the ball.”

“Twenty says he tries to get you to teach him,” Golthak rumbles from the door.

Anduin holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “I’m not taking either of those bets.”

“So,” Serephina says hesitantly once we are settled again with our tea and tiny desserts. “You said Anduin has his Majesty the king’s eyes?”

I smile at the way she busies herself with a pastry. “They’re quite dangerous, aren’t they?”

She flushes. “I…he’s too young, of course, but when he’s older…”

“Anduin will need to marry for the good of the kingdom, of course, but Kings and Warchiefs alike need friends,” I say mildly.

She looks at me. “Do you suppose that someday, you and King Varian will be friends?”

That was not the question I expected her to ask, and it shakes me slightly. “I…don’t know. It will depend on how he acts going forward from now.”

Varian is still in his meeting when Serephina leaves, which gives me time to search the stack of social invitations left unopened on the desk in his personal study. As expected, Dalia’s is untouched. I break the seal and scan it, confirming that it is as Serephina said: a ball held in her honor, a ‘coming out’ event in which she is to be paraded before the unwed noblemen like a fish before an array of starved cats. I feel for her, the memories of my abuse and the thoughts of what she might suffer making my throat tight, and with nervous fingers I fold the invitation up again. I should leave, return to my rooms and meditate, calm myself before speaking with my lord husband about this, but before I can do that, the door opens.

“I’m surprised to see you here, my lady,” Varian says warily as he closes the door behind him. “You look less than pleased. Did I do something wrong?”

“We need to talk,” I blurt, struggling to force the panic back down my throat. “About this.”

He takes the invitation from me gingerly, as though it or I would bite him at any second, and stares at the thick paper for far longer than it should take to read. “I’m not going,” he says at last. The words are heavy and somehow solid, as if they were boulders anchored in a swirling sea.

“Yes,” I retort more sharply than I’d intended, “you are. We are.”

His expression shifts, becoming more resolute while at the same time more bland. “Dalia is a toxic woman. To attend would give her a great deal of social power. If you want me there, my lady, you’re going to need to explain why I should go against my longstanding policy of not favoring any noble house over another.”

“The prestige will apply to her daughter Serephina, not to her.”

“She’ll gain it anyway by association.”

I press my lips together grimly. “I want both of us there, and I want you to dance at least once with her. What do I need to do in order to secure your word on this?”

Varian’s eyebrows shoot up, but that stonily neutral expression remains intact. “I believe, my lady, that we should adjourn to a conference room for this discussion. If you would follow me…?”

I incline my head, and with a shallow bow he leads the way. When we are both seated, he clears his throat.

“There are two issues we need to negotiate,” he begins. “Our mutual presence, and a dance with Miss Serephina. As the later hinges upon the former, we will negotiate that first. Agreed, my lady?”

“Agreed, my lord.” The formal environment is remarkably calming.

“Now then…as I have said before, Dalia is a backbiting snake. Before I can agree to this, I need to know why favoring her daughter is so important to you.”

My cheeks color, and inwardly, I curse myself. “You remember the incident with Lady Calriss?”

“I do.” Varian’s cheeks darken to match mine.

“Serephina was the one who brought it to my attention, and earned her mother’s disfavor by doing so.”

“Brave of her,” he acknowledges. “But still not enough to counterbalance the waves we will make attending Dalia’s little circus.”

I bite my lip briefly, then face my lord husband directly. “Did you know that before our wedding, her mother hoped to wed her to you?”

He scowls. “I’m not surprised.”

“That’s what we were discussing on the balcony that night when you interrupted. She’d filled her daughter’s head with romantic nonsense, and I shattered those illusions. Serephina turned against her mother after that, Dalia devised a new game – and Serephina openly invited her mother’s wrath by bringing it to my attention. But there’s more than just that,” I continue as he looks ready to protest again. “By bringing Calriss’s scheme to my attention, Serephina made me aware that I had been failing in my duty to you, and to Stormwind.”

His mouth falls open in surprise. “What…?”

“I swore to honor and defend you, my lord,” I say, defiant despite my flush. “By abandoning you in public, I left your flank unprotected. Had I been more attentive to the duties I agreed to perform, Dalia’s scheme would never have gone on as long as it did. You suffered because of me, my lord.”

“Taretha…” Anguish bleeds out of his blue eyes. “No, my lady. The fault is not yours, not when I callously invoked the horrors of your past with my actions.” Varian’s expression shifts suddenly, as if his mind has just caught up to his words. “…I see. We both owe Serephina a debt for her brave actions. I will pen our acceptance tonight and have it delivered in the morning.”

“And now we must negotiate the second of my demands, my lord. I have stated my side: what say you?”

“An equal demand, my lady: a dance for a dance. I must make you aware that it is customary for a gentleman to kiss the hand of his dance partner at the conclusion of the set.”

“Your terms are agreeable, my lord.”

He looks relieved. “Well then, it’s settled. Have you any other business to discuss with me, my lady?”

“We will need to coordinate our attire, but that can wait. I will see you at dinner?”

“Of course.”

He smiles, but there is nothing flirtatious about it; it is a smile such as I would get from Jaina, or from Thrall, and I find myself returning it.

Do you suppose that someday, you and King Varian will be friends?

Shaken once again, I retreat to the sanctity of my rooms and wonder how much of my dislike for Varian stemmed from his declared intent to win my heart.

The month passes with growing tension; the news that Varian and I will be attending a social event spreads like wildfire, Dalia initially basking in her anticipated victory and then growing sullen as Serephina’s continued visits – three times weekly – overshadow her perceived self-importance. As much as she tries to pretend otherwise, it is plain to the rest of the nobility that we are attending for the sake of her daughter. Anduin joins us several times for our dance lessons, and I can tell that he is forcing himself to face the shadow of Onyxia in much the same way that I face Blackmoore’s in Varian. Serephina doesn’t notice, but she doesn’t know what to look for the way I do. Varian looks in on three occasions, each time ostensibly to fetch his son for something. Each time, I invite him to join us, and each time, he gives me a forcibly neutral look and declines. On those days, he is on edge at dinner but refuses to talk about what’s bothering him. It worries me slightly, but out of respect for him, I do not press the issue – and Serephina’s words haunt me each time I feel friendly concern for my husband.

Without the charming smiles and half-flirtatious comments, the reminders that he wants what Blackmoore had so often, it is easy to forget that I cried when I realized what my choice was. He upholds his word and listens honestly to me; indeed, he welcomes my presence in meetings although my contributions are moving away from simply jerking the metaphoric leash I hold, and more towards offering suggestions. As much as a part of me does not wish it to be the case, I am making myself at home in Stormwind – becoming less the hand holding my lord husband’s leash, and more his equal in terms of managing the affairs of the kingdom as I did with Thrall, and the Horde. Without the pressure of warding off his advances, I find myself appreciating Varian’s fierce spirit, and the impulsive tenderness hidden in his heart. But more and more, I find myself sequestered in my rooms, or in the Queen’s Garden, fighting my inner turmoil. Am I starting to like my lord husband? Do I want to? By letting my guard down, am I allowing myself to become blind to any threat? On the other hand, if I keep it up, am I being unreasonably hostile?

If Varian notices my disquiet, he does not comment. Our interactions are refreshingly impersonal in public, or when the subject is something relating to Stormwind. Only in private, and regarding personal matters, does he act differently – and even then, he keeps to simple friendship. Almost, I could forget that he is my husband. Almost, until I find myself smiling back and enjoying his company, and then I remember that I have given myself into his power, and my blood runs cold with the fear of allowing myself to be vulnerable. If I warm up to my lord husband, will he use his charm to take through subtlety what Blackmoore took by force? Will I allow him to place that noose around my neck without fighting back, or even wanting to? But then even when we are alone, he is so comfortingly distant…as though he had forgotten that I am a woman at all, much less one he is attracted to.

I am growing to trust my husband, and it terrifies me.

“Don’t,” I say sharply as Varian reaches for his collar yet again.

His hand drops to his lap and, irritated, he glares out the curtained window of our enclosed carriage. “It still feels too tight.”

“Were it armor, my lord, you would wish it tighter.”

“True enough,” he says, flashing me a wolfish grin. “But armor is hardly suitable for a ball.”

“You were the one who picked this gown, my lord. You have no one but yourself to blame if the matching tunic has a high neck.”

The look he gives me falls just short of a scowl. “You are my wife, and I swore to protect you,” he declares fiercely. “I may be unhappy with the collar of my tunic, but I am quite pleased with the high neck of your gown. Blackmoore no doubt would have put half your bosom on display for his own pleasure, but I will not have other men ogling anything you are uncomfortable showing on your own. And,” he continues grimly as I stare in astonishment, “If you were comfortable with a plunging neckline, I wouldn’t want other men looking anyway. I am equally as capable of being a territorial wolf as you are, my lady,” he finishes with a quiet smile.

I look away, struggling to balance uncertain trust with gratitude and nervousness over the event we are attending – among other things. “Thank you, Varian.”

“Taretha…” His sad tone draws my eyes back, and his expression softens to the look of distant worship I haven’t seen in several weeks. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. This is your battleground, but I won’t leave your flank unprotected…and I don’t want you to feel in any way that I am not your ally in this fight.”

Suddenly, I feel safe in a way that I haven’t since I left the Horde. No one dared look at me as an object of lust when I was the Warchief’s sister because my faithful shadow was more than eager to defend my virtue. Now, it seems, my lord husband is just as willing to step up and perform the same duty. Although we are sitting in opposite corners of the carriage, I extend one hand towards him. Eyes wide in wonder, he reaches out and takes it gently in his.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, the words insufficient, but his fingers tighten around mine in a way that says he understands.

The carriage rattles to a stop moments later, and we exchange a grim look before donning our charming masks. Golthak opens the door and steps aside to let Varian out first, then the two of them scan the courtyard for any threat before Varian turns back to the carriage and helps me out. We have arrived ‘fashionably late’ – far enough past the time given that the other guests will be there already, but not so much so that it would seem we have canceled – and our hostess is inside. Her guards admit us, and when we enter the ballroom conversation hushes as all eyes turn to us. This is my battleground, as Varian said, and Dalia looks to be reconsidering the validity of her presumed social victory. She has invited the wolves into her home, but now that we have arrived, she does not look as pleased as she could.

I make sure to be as charming as I can manage as I greet her, my smile well-honed like the gleaming fangs of my clan’s namesakes.

Serephina hugs me warmly, casually, our weeks of dancing lessons having worn away the formality. “Taretha! I’m so glad to see you, your Majesty,” she continues demurely as we part from our embrace. “And who is this fine gentleman with you?” Her eyes twinkle with restrained mischief, and I can’t help but laugh.

“May I present to you my husband: King Varian Wrynn?”

“Delighted,” she murmurs breathlessly as he takes her proffered hand and kisses it, all of us aware that Lady Dalia is nearly beside herself with indignation.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Serephina.” He does not release her hand, and I hide a smile when her cheeks color delicately. “If I may – might I have the honor of your first dance this evening?”

When it is not being directed at me, I can fully appreciate my lord husband’s warm charm, and even feel some fondness for him. We are working in tandem on this battlefield, two warriors back to back, each trusting the other’s skills.

“Of course, your Majesty,” she breathes.

Varian gestures to the musicians, who end their piece of inoffensive chamber music and begin the strains of a dance. The other guests, who had been pretending not to watch us, scramble for partners and then think better of it. My husband leads the way to the center of the room, and in solitary splendor they dance. Dalia and I stand side by side, neither of us deigning to look at the other. When the dance ends, he leads Serephina back and kisses her hand a second time before reclaiming mine. I shoot Dalia a triumphant smile as he whisks me away into the crowd, and we circulate for some time.

Normally, even more recently when Varian and I do not avoid each other, events such as these have me on edge. Not tonight. Tonight, I am the alpha female secure in my place. This is my pack, and my territory, and anyone who holds a different opinion must face down the alpha male at my side. When the requests come for me to dance with a given nobleman – and they do come – Varian smiles charmingly but firmly and insists that he couldn’t possibly relinquish my hand before he’s had a dance for himself.

“Well, my lady,” he murmurs to me after we have circulated ourselves sufficiently. “Might I impose on you to allow me the honor of dancing with you?”

I listen to the music heralding the next dance; it’s one I know from my weeks of tutoring. “You may, my lord.”

Although he appears to be supremely confident as we join the other couples in the center of the room, I can feel his unease in the way his muscled arm is tense beneath my fingers. The dance begins and we go through the motions, but Varian’s smile seems strained.

“I agreed to this, my lord,” I chide softly as he takes me stiffly through the turns. “I am hardly going to turn on you for it.”

“It’s not you, my lady,” he mutters, “it’s me. I should have taken you up on those lessons – you dance better than I do, and it’s making me ashamed of myself.” The smile he flashes me is self-depreciating. “I didn’t think you’d be this good after only a month.”

“Fear is an excellent teacher,” I counter dryly. “I learned early on how to learn swiftly.”

“I wish he could see you now,” Varian says casually, noting but unconcerned by the way my expression has gone stony at his words. “Hear me out, my lady. He wanted power and wealth and legitimacy on a throne with you at his side. Imagine what his reaction would be to see you married to another man, a younger man with everything he wanted.” He watches me for a long moment as we twirl through the steps of the dance, then flashes me a wolfish grin as my expression thaws.

“He would be beside himself with fury,” I say slowly, the ice in my veins melting before it can reach my heart.

“Exactly. And I swore to protect you. I would be honor-bound to beat his face into Dalia’s fancy carpet.”

My husband, the brute. I can’t help but smile warmly at how well he’s behaving, and firmly ignore any implications of this until such time as I can be alone for my bout of panic over it.

At the end of the dance, Varian leads me to an unoccupied cluster of fancy chairs around a tiny table – unoccupied because Golthak and the Royal Guard have claimed them for us – and kisses my hand as he did Serephina’s, albeit with considerably more warmth. His eyes burn with restrained devotion again, and he seems to realize that he has let his mask slip because he excuses himself to secure a selection of fancy finger foods for me. Only when I find my eyes following his form through the crowd do I realize that my heart is racing from something that is not fear, and my cheeks are warm.

“You okay?” Golthak asks quietly in orcish.

I seat myself slowly, still watching my lord husband as he browses the assorted foods set out for nibbling. “He’s a wolf,” I reply in the same language. “He’s a wolf, and I am of his pack and his territory. He is a man who loves me, but he is also a wolf who defends what is his with tooth and claw.”

Golthak grunts and leaves me to my thoughts, but my mind is blissfully empty. No doubt tomorrow will be spent in wracking anxiety over this, but tonight…tonight, I am a warrior on a social battlefield, and Varian has my flank. When he returns with a plate of finger foods and a cup of punch, it is the alpha male of a pack dragging a kill to the alpha female.

We make small talk, placing bets on which nobleman will be first to brave his king to ask for a dance with the queen, or which noblewoman will dare face down her queen to dance with the king. Dalia’s most powerful rival and her husband take up the challenge first, and with charming smiles Varian and I accept. I can feel the political landscape shift as the night progresses. Each dance I spend on the arm of a nobleman is the alpha female accepting the obeisance of a male in her pack, a sort of unspoken oath of fealty. Serephina is the center of attention, of course – she is young, and beautiful, and unwed – but my presence wards off the men who would treat her unkindly. She dances with my lord husband three times more, and joins me at my tiny table for a few sets while Varian dances with another woman. No doubt Dalia had hoped to marry her for political gain, but our public friendship puts doubts in the minds of any who would use her in such a way.

When the bell tolls the final hour of the night, Varian and I thank our hostess most profusely – to her bitter dismay. We have neatly upstaged her in her own home, but she dares not show weakness, so she returns the gestures as politely as she is able as we announce our leave. I hug Serephina again and urge her to visit again soon, which causes her expression to light up as much as Varian kissing her hand once again.

Varian enters the carriage first, then helps me inside, and neither of us say a word when we sit next to each other rather than maintaining as much distance as possible between us.

“I think that went very well,” I offer into the silence after a minute.

“I would have to agree with you, my lady. Dalia did not gain any prestige from our presence at all.” He pauses briefly. “Let’s not make a habit of this, though.”

I grin sidelong at him. “As with any other weapon, my lord, the greatest proof of its potency-”

“-is the restraint with which it is wielded.” He laughs, a lighthearted but tired sound. “Very true. Besides, if we’re going to do that again, I want to make sure my dancing is up to par. You, uh, can imagine that I didn’t do much of it while…”

My fingers find his hand and curl around it in silent reassurance.

“Can your dance tutor be trusted to keep his mouth shut?” Varian asks quietly. “To say, if asked, that he is continuing your education rather than mine?”

“You’d like him,” I say around a small smile. “He tells his students in no uncertain terms when they are doing something wrong.”

He chuckles, and we ride in comfortable silence the rest of the way back. A perfect gentleman, he walks me to the door of the queen’s suite and bows over my hand. “I had a lovely time,” he says loftily. Then, more quietly, “Thank you for trusting me, Taretha.”

“Varian…” My hand tightens around his. “Thank you for being trustworthy.”

“Good night, my lady.” His eyes again glow with restrained devotion before he turns away.

Numbly, I let Clara and Pauline undress me and take my hair down, pack my jewelry away and wash the cosmetics off of my face. Hiding the tremble of fear under fatigue, I climb into bed and nestle under the covers. Then the panic takes me, and my pillow bears the brunt of it.

Varian loves me. I don’t want to hate him. I want to trust him. I want-

Damp cotton, tasting faintly of down, swallows the scream that strangles me. I want…I want…but then Blackmoore takes my husband’s place and I am trapped, locked in a cage of my own design, with no way out…

Half-blinded by darkness and panic, I fumble for the pendant that was Jaina’s wedding gift to me. “Thrall,” I whimper, thumb pressed against the first gem.

When the second gem lights up, I touch it and my brother’s worried voice tumbles out. “Tari? Bin mog g’thazag cha. If he’s hurt you, I’ll kill him.”

I will protect you. The words soothe me. I am not alone, I am not trapped.

“I’m okay,” I half-sob with relief into the first gem. “I’m okay. He hasn’t hurt me.”

Thrall doesn’t sound comforted at all. “Bin mog g’thazag cha, Tari. If you need us, we’ll come to you.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I just needed to remember that I’m not shackled to Blackmoore.”

This time, it is Jaina’a voice that emerges when I press the second gem. “Tari? What happened?”

“I danced. At a ball. With my husband.” My laugh comes out shakily. “He’s not very good.”

Jaina sounds as if she’s holding back a laugh of her own. “I’m surprised he even knows how.” A rumbling murmur from my brother, and she does laugh. “Tari? Tell your brother he doesn’t need to learn to dance.”

For a minute, all I can do is laugh with her. “Sorry, Jaina, I can’t do that. All I can think of is the looks on everyone’s faces when he dances better than they do.”

“Better now, Tari?” Thrall asks gently, and I smile.

“Yes. Thank you, both of you.”

“We’re here for you whenever you need us,” Jaina says soothingly. “Now get some sleep, and take a nice long hot bath in the morning.”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night, Tari.”

“Sleep well,” my brother commands.

Pendant chain wrapped around my hand, I do just that.