Lina

I feel the hidden pocket in my dress long before I dare look at anyone. The silk brushes my fingertips, whisper-thin, concealing the tiny weight stitched into the lining right beneath my ribs. My heart jumps as my thumb grazes the cool chain inside. The necklace. Hope’s necklace.

I force my breathing steady even as the room spins with too much light and too many eyes. Laughter floats like perfume, artificial and choking. Soldiers lean against columns, bored but watchful. Courtiers slither past each other in gowns that glitter like weaponry. And in the center of it all, Alpha Keith stands near the dais, stiff-backed, jaw hard. He doesn't...