Page 20 of Courting the Tiger King

Wren rolled his eyes as Skye placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. Where Skye could be found, Gabriel usually wasn’t too far behind and, lately, where Gabe was Sonnet often followed.

Sure enough, by the time Wren turned both Skye and Gabriel were standing beside him with Sonnet lingering just behind Gabe—or maybe it was more accurate to say that Gabe was standing in front of Sonnet, easily adjusting when she moved, almost protectively.

The witch huffed under her breath when Gabriel repeated the movement, keeping himself between Sonnet and Skye, and Wren couldn’t help but find thatveryinteresting. Not muchcame between those two—let alone a woman. They were more inclined to share than bicker.

Wren took another glass of wine and raised a brow at the disapproving look on Skye’s face. “What? It’s my party isn’t it?”

“What’s got you all broody?”

Long legs. Damp hair. Parted lips and the scent of honey.“Nothing,” Wren growled and Skye raised his hands, palms up. Sonnet, however, smirked. “Do you know something?” He stepped forward, eyes intent on the witch, and was surprised when Gabe blocked his way. “If she knows something?—”

Sonnet stepped out from behind Gabe, dodging him effortlessly as she sized up Wren. “I know a great number of things. I imagine we’d be here all day if I had to recount every single piece of knowledge I possess that you do not.”

Had… Had she just called him stupid?

“Sonnet,” Gabe muttered, looking pained as he reached for the witch’s arm, and Wren decided right then and there that he was better off not knowing whatever was going on between them.

“Do you know anything pertinent to me and my mate?” Wren said, attempting a calmer tone of voice even as his vision shrank down to capture every twitch Sonnet made.

“Everything Iknow, you know.” The words were confident, but measured, and Wren didn’t like the way her eyes sparkled, like she’d hidden some clue within the response that she knew he wouldn’t decipher.

Wren huffed, turning away and sipping the second glass of wine. “Fucking witches,” he muttered and his lips twitched when both Sonnet and Skye protested.

“Hey,” they said, and then grimaced at one another.

The moment of awkwardness was luckily averted by the presence of his mother and his uncle, stepping into their little circle with proud smiles. His uncle shared only a passingresemblance to his father, but it was enough that seeing his face was still a gut punch since his father had died on a hunting expedition with his brother. Wren didn’t hold it against him though, Castor couldn’t help the family resemblance, and he’d been nothing but kind to Wren his whole life, stepping up when he needed advice, supporting him when being a king felt impossible.

Wren smiled, reaching out to clasp his uncle’s hand. “Your arrival is a gift.”

“Oh? Trouble in paradise?” Castor grinned at Skye and Sonnet who blanched, looking impossibly more horrified than before. “No matter, let’s let absence make his heart fonder, my dear.” He winked and led Sonnet away with an arm around her shoulders, pausing at the buffet table filled with wine and nibbles just a few paces away while Gabriel watched them intently.

“You look lovely, darling.” His mother kissed each of his cheeks and beamed when she pulled away. Her face was already flushed from the wine at dinner and when he caught his uncle’s eye he nodded minutely toward his mother, relieved when his uncle nodded. He would keep an eye on her.

“As do you, Mother.”

The music shifted, signalling the beginning of the first dance of the night, and Wren drank the last of his wine. Typically, it was tradition for him to hold the first dance and he knew the court, as well as his mother, would expect nothing less that night too. He cast his eyes around while his mother chattered, and then paused.

Lady Zennon and Neah stood off to one side, sipping their flutes of wine and ignoring the looks they were garnering from interested suitors and gossiping nobles. The young shifter from dinner had spotted them too and when he began to approach, Wren didn’t think. Just moved.

His long legs ate up the short distance between them as he kept his eyes on Lady Zennon, barely noticing when the young shifter faltered at the sight of his approach. And yet, when he arrived, his hand sought out another. Lightly calloused, long fingers that looked like they could play the pianoforte, and golden eyes.

“Dance with me.” The words were more demand than request and Neah blinked at him, looking down at the hand he had clasped in his.

“But—” She looked to Zennon and he felt a momentary flicker of hesitation before pushing it down and squeezing her fingers lightly as the young shifter regained his confidence to approach.

“Now.”

Neah thrust her glass at Zennon, who looked only amused as Wren practically dragged Neah into the centre of the room. His hand found her waist, her skin burning hot through the wispy material, and one of her hands fell to his shoulder, and then they began to move.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing with your mate?” The words were sharp and Wren cocked his head, leading them effortlessly as he tried to make sense of the look on her face. Was that concern in her eyes? Fear? He couldn’t be sure.

“I may dance with whomever I please,” he countered and she frowned, a flash of anger in her eyes that he attributed to protectiveness for her friend until she replied.

“Even if your dance partner is unwilling?”

He dropped her hand so quickly that she startled. “By all means, walk away.”

Her jaw clenched, mouth hardening into a fierce line as he waited for her to make her choice. She glanced around them at the shocked onlookers, but for once he didn’t care.Let them watch.

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