Charming raised his arms, confused but grinning, looking around like maybe he’d earned something.
The crowd was slow to cheer. But they did. How could they not with those golden good looks that should clearly best a dark beast like Graham on his knees?
Graham's eyes found her. Raveena was still seated in the Ladies’ Box, lips parted in surprise. Then they pursed in mounting anger. She was pissed. His queen wasn't used to being outmaneuvered.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The village reeked of wood smoke, sweat, and ale. Mud slicked the narrow stone paths between the soldiers’ quarters, half-frozen in the chill dusk air. The clamor of laughter, tankards clanking, and celebratory boasts echoed around her. Raveena moved through it all like a blade slicing silk.
Men caught sight of her and looked away. Some bowed low, others stiffened with the reflex of discipline. None met her gaze. None dared speak.
She wore no crown tonight. No ceremonial robes. Only a deep plum cloak lined in sable and a simple gown that clung to her hips and moved like shadow. Still, she was unmistakably a queen. The queen.
Queen Raveena didn’t spare the men a glance.
She found Corwin tucked into the crook of a stone archway, lips deep in a kiss with a wide-eyed noble girl who looked young enough to still believe in ballads. The girl gasped at Raveena’s approach. She scrambled to smooth her skirts and disappeared into the background like a frightened rabbit.
“Where is he?”
Corwin cleared his throat. He reached for his tankard with one hand and jerked his thumb with the other toward the far end of the hall. “Last door on the right.”
Raveena didn’t thank him. She strode to the closed wooden door. Without bothering to knock, she pushed it open.
Graham stood inside, shirtless, the fire low in the hearth behind him. He was angled toward a small mirror, dabbing at the dark bloom spreading across his jawline. Her fingers twitched at her sides at the sight of the bruise.
He didn’t look surprised to see her. Just glanced up. Then went back to examining the damage like she wasn’t even there.
Raveena crossed the room in two strides. She snatched the cloth from his hand, tossed it away, and pressed her fingers to his jaw.
Graham caught her wrist before she could apply the healing spell. “I’ll keep my bruises, thank you.”
“Fool,” she hissed.
He didn’t deny it. “I gave you what you wanted. Your prince bested your beast. That should make him worthy of you.”
Raveena curled her fingers into the palms of her hands.
"That is what you wanted, isn't it, Your Majesty?"
Graham's bruise was starting to darken. Rich violet spread like spilled ink beneath his skin. She grabbed another cloth from a side table, dipped it in the bowl of water, and pressed it gently to the swelling, dabbing instead of healing.
He let her. But his words didn’t stop.
“Or is that if he marries Snow, the whole realm will see the truth? That the prince and princess are weak. While the true queen and the wolf stand cast aside… yet still stronger than either of them. Is that what you want, Ray?”
Her gaze caught his. Ice blue met coal black. And there it was again—that mind she loved. That brutal logic. That ability to think two, three, four moves ahead. Raveena had thought sheplayed the game best. But Graham had seen the board more clearly; her wolf had lost the fight to win the war.
“I’ll have my reward now,” he said, voice low, eyes locked to hers.
Not a question. Not a request. A claim. And gods, she wanted to be claimed.
"You didn't win," she said.
"Didn't I?"
Graham’s eyes burned into hers—dark, sure, unrelenting. For a breathless second, Raveena wondered if he would speak again. Demand more, demand everything.
Instead, he kissed her.
