Page 12 of Courting the Tiger King

“I’ll say.” The guard grinned, his teeth even and white and she found herself smiling hesitantly back. “I imagine you’re looking for the king?”

Perhaps the guard was right, it would be better for her to approach the king directly with information this potentially time-sensitive. “I—yes, actually.”

“Come. It would be my honour to take you to His Majesty.”

It was a pleasant but not unwelcome surprise to be granted such a courtesy and she inclined her head in thanks. Playing the part of Lady came naturally to her and, in truth, she enjoyed the freedom it gave her. Not for the privilege and monetary benefits, though they were helpful, but the freedom to be underestimated was intoxicating. The court looked at her and saw a woman, a delicate noble with the power and prestige of a shifter beneath her skin. They didn’t see the strength in her lean frame, the cunning in her eyes—nor did they know her shame, that she was almost as much a shifter as the humans among them, given that she’d never shifted.

But to be unremarkable was the gift of a talented spy, one she had subverted with her reputation. After all, who expects the life of the party to be reporting its every facet?

Her chivalrous escort garnered further whispers but she paid them no mind, most of her attention was focused on keeping the train of her borrowed dress out from underfoot. It was long and green and not at all something she would typically have worn. She loved dresses, but more often than not they were a hindrance.

Lady Neah wouldn’t care about that though. Lady Neah didn’t need to know how to fight or hide daggers on the inside of her thigh. Lady Neah had time for dresses and pinning her hair just-so.

Neah the spy? Well, she was becoming frustrated with the mass of forest material even as she admired the way the gold thread design on the skirt glimmered in the sunlight.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, their pace slow due to the volume of her skirts. “I didn’t ask your name.”

“Dean Grandy.” He gave a short bow that revealed the top of his close-cropped dark hair. “And it’s no bother, Lady. I understand wanting to make a good first impression.”

First impression? She smoothed her brow and nodded, even as she turned over his words in her mind while they walked.

They rounded a corner and she was relieved when the windows were replaced with art and tapestries. The palace wound inward in a spiral formation meant to confuse intruders, though Neah knew it like the back of her hand. She’d expected Dean to lead her toward the King’s quarters, or perhaps a banquet hall as it would soon be nearing supper. Instead, they continued on to the center of the spiral and the formal viewing chamber. Typically it was used for ceremonies, trials, or other matters of importance. Why would the king be there? And why would Dean think she would be welcome to interrupt what was likely a closed and exclusive meeting?

It had grown darker when they walked, the natural light mostly disappearing as they moved into the depths of the castle,but toward the viewing chamber they approached the far side of the palace walls once more. She’d only been inside one other time before and knew that a large stained glass window took up the majority of the back wall, the effect both grand and foreboding all at once much like the carved entrance doors that were double her height.

“Perhaps we should wait outside until the king is done?”

Dean frowned, thick brows drawing together tightly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lady.”

The use of the honorific as he gently berated her made Neah’s lips twitch but the humour faded quickly when the solid oak doors swung open and four unfamiliar sets of eyes swung her way.

“Your Majesty,” Dean boomed from beside her, making her jump, “may I present to you, your mate, Lady Zennon?”

Neah froze. Then the terrible urge to laugh swept over her, barely restrained, as she met the final set of eyes in the room. Familiar brown irises that swam with a mixture of worry and amusement.

“What is the meaning of this?” The words came not from the king, but the tall shifter at his side—Gabriel, if she remembered correctly. “The king’s mate ishere, you idiot.”

Dean spluttered, looking between Neah and Zennon with mounting confusion. “I?—”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Neah said smoothly, stepping further into the room and walking to Zennon’s side before she curtsied deeply. “It seems there was some confusion, but I have ended up where I intended to be.”

Eyes a gold so deep they burned watched her with a cat-like intensity from the dais where he sat, and the king’s mouth curled as he took her in. “Is that so?”

Zennon cleared her throat, causing all eyes to shift to her. “Yes, quite.”

Dean shuffled awkwardly in place before bowing his head to the king and making a swift retreat, closing the doors behind him. The room was large and the sound of his exit echoed, the smell of oak overpowering almost everything else in the room as dust motes drifted lazily in the beams of sunlight that cascaded in through the large window behind the king.

“I know you,” he said suddenly, standing from his seat and descending the small set of steps from the raised platform to stop inches away from her. “Who are you?”

“Most certainly not your mate,” she said, attempting humour and letting it fade when the intensity of the king’s stare only increased. “I am Lady Neah Fallon. Lady Zennon sent word to me of what transpired at the Midmyr estate and I came as quickly as I could.”

“Fallon?” Gabriel breathed and Neah slid him a bored look. “But that would make you?—”

“Yes,” she said, cutting him off but keeping her gaze on the king. “My apologies for barging in, Your Majesty.”

His eyes stayed on hers even as he addressed Zennon. “Is this true?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

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