"I really like wolf fur, but it's very hard to get where I live. The climate isn't suitable for wolves, unfortunately. I've always wanted to hunt one…" Sahira looked right at Theresa before continuing, "…Your lovely Queen made it happen."
The King froze mid-step. A strange, uneasy flutter rose in his chest, quickening his heartbeat. For a moment, the sounds of the hunting party faded, he only felt his heart beat.
He turned to look at Sahira fully, searching her expression. But she wore only that predatory smile, her eyes bright with anticipation, it was her usual look. Nothing he could pin down. Nothing overly suspicious.
Before the King could open his mouth to question Sahira's strange comment about wolf fur, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the chatter like a whip.
"Son."
It was his mother.
