Page 10 of Courting the Tiger King

“Have you seen her yet?” The words were casual, but the interest gleaming in his mother’s amber eyes was unmistakableas she feigned nonchalance by tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“No.” The short response didn’t invite further questions, not that his mother cared. “She had a busy night, despatching our enemies,” he continued, the amusement he felt colouring his voice just slightly, but it was enough for his mother to award him with a look of disapproval. “I imagine the Lady is still resting. Are we going to talk about the obvious?”

She sighed. “And what’s that, darling?”

Fortuna Ainsworthy was no fool, and Wren resented his mother for making him pull the words out of her. “That we have been betrayed. I would appreciate any insights you have for me.”

The chair scraped across the wooden floors of his mother’s parlour as she pushed back from the table and stood in a huff. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“Then let me speak plainly.” Wren stood too, his height dwarfing his mother’s impressive stature. “The only people who knew of Lady Zennon’s import and location were with us during the ceremony. Someone orchestrated this attack, probably in an effort to claim the throne after I fail to break the curse and am driven quite mad. Do you know anything about it?”

Perhaps he would later regret the ice that coated his words or the harshness in his eyes as he pierced his mother with his questions, but in that moment it was all he could do to keep his beast at bay when he knew that his mate had been targeted.

Fortuna stiffened and drew herself up to her full height, her head barely in-line with his chest as she bit out, “I know of no such machinations and you would be wise to hold your tongue before levelling accusations of that manner at family, my king.” Then she turned on her heel and marched away, the swaying of her purple silk dress wafting the familiar scent of his childhood in his face until he took a breath filled with temporary shame.

But it was a necessary evil. It had been entirely possible that this betrayal was not evil in its intentions. The wrong word whispered in the wrong ear could spell disaster, even when intentions were pure. Typically his union would be cause for joy, but it also put a target on his back—and his mate’s—until their bond was accepted and celebrated under Selene’s gaze.

Plus, there was still the small matter of informing Lady Zennon ofwhyshe’d been escorted to his palace. It was rare for mates to be rejected, but not impossible, and if that happened… Well, Wren would be well and truly fucked.

He’d checked on Sonnet not long after he’d awoken from the day’s rest and Gabe had told him that Sonnet had mostly slept the whole time too. No harm had come to her, which was good because he would need her for the bonding ceremony if Lady Zennon was receptive.

He found Skye outside of Sonnet’s room with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, magic rolling off of him in waves that prickled Wren’s skin.

“Everything… okay?”

Skye grunted. “See for yourself.”

Worry swirling, Wren knocked on Sonnet’s door and waited for her to call him inside before opening it and finding her lounging on a small sofa with Gabriel.

The two were laughing, Sonnet practically breathless as Gabe wiped tears from his face and attempted to catch his own breath.

Wren stepped inside and approached before looking between them, bemused. “Is this why Skye is outside, sulking?”

Sonnet shrugged. “I told him he could come in.” She peered into the space behind Wren and called, “This nasty little witch doesn’t bite. Unless he wants me to.”

If he didn’t know better, Wren might have thought Sonnet was enjoying taunting Skye—a thought that was evidenced by the smugness on her face when Skye growled from the hall.

“Where are my manners?” Sonnet stood and curtsied. “How are you, my king?” The words had an undercurrent of humour, like she was placating rather than respecting him. The witches mostly governed themselves, having a hierarchy separate to Wren’s crown, but it still felt a little like being mocked as a child playing at power rather than having it.

Andthat,his beast did not like.

He let his tight control slip for half a second, stripes rippling along his skin and claws showing at his fingertips before he let a mask of civility fall back into place.

Sonnet paled but stood her ground and Wren could admire that tenacity even as he demanded obedience.

“I’m well, thank you. I hear that you slept for nearly as long as me?”

“The spell took much from me,” she said, nodding and Skye snorted from the hall, making her eyes narrow. “Oh for the Goddess’ sake, either get inside or close the door. You won’t become affected by my dirty magic just by standing here.”

Skye’s form filled the doorway, his blue eyes practically beacons as they fixed on the witch. “You’re lucky I let you live, that Wren needs you alive.”

“Indubitably,” she said, pressing her hands together and widening her eyes. “My gratefulness knows no bounds. Would you like me to get on my knees to show you my gratitude?”

Magic sparked at Skye’s fingertips and Wren watched, intrigued. He’d never seen much active magic from his friend, but this witch knew how to push his buttons.

“You dare?—”

“That’s quite enough,” Wren said mildly and Skye fell silent. “It’s not polite to threaten our guest,” he continued and Skye’s jaw clenched. “And you should know better than to tauntyourking,” he added to Sonnet and saw the first trace of true anger on her face at his insinuation that she owed Skye her fealty.

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