Page 3 of Courting the Tiger King

“Selene, I have come to ask for your blessing as I attempt to locate the mate who will break my curse.” The words were spoken quietly, muffled as they sank into the stone surrounding him. The pressure at his back didn’t lessen, but nor did anything else happen. Wren frowned. He needed this blessing from the Goddess in order for Sonnet’s spell to work.

A nudge at his back made him sway, as if a palm had rested on his spine and pushed him to continue. Perhaps the more formal route wasn’t what the Goddess needed from him.

Instead, Wren cleared his mind and focused on what he imagined for his mate, for their bond. He’d been so focused on the need to break the curse and secure his Kingdom that he hadn’t considered much about the mating itself, beyond it being a necessity for his survival.

The beast within him awoke and Wren shivered, images flashing in his mind’s eye. Running beneath the moon, the heavy thud of paws echoed in the presence of another, warmth and bite and power… An equal. That was what he wanted in a mate. Someone who would fight for him and the kingdom with a passion that rivalled his own sense of duty, but could also look past the crown to the man beneath.

A tingling swept through his body and when Wren opened his eyes, his lips parted at the glowing markings that encased his hands in sweeps and flourishes of silver swirls that reminded him of tiger stripes. His mate would be like him, then, a shifter. And shifter forms always matched that of their mate. Soon, if everything went to plan, there would be more than one tiger roaming the halls of the castle.

“Thank you,” he murmured and pushed up to standing as the glow in his hands faded but the silver marks remained, looking a little like a long-healed scar. The presence around him slippedaway and Wren breathed in deeply before letting the breath out in a slow exhalation. It was time to see a witch.

Wren returned back to his quarters where he’d been told Gabe and Skye were waiting, no doubt with Sonnet in tow, and his jaw unclenched as he saw the three of them in his parlour.

The colour had returned to Sonnet’s face, her silver eyes gleaming as she stood and curtsied. “It’s good to see you again, my king.”

“Are you well?”

She nodded and brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face. “Much better, thank you.”

They’d only met once before, last year after his father’s death when his mother had finally confessed the truth about the curse on their bloodline. Nobody knew where the curse had originated, some said one of their ancestors had displeased a god, others that their kin had spurned a witch. Wren didn’t care about the particulars, just about breaking it—though, even if he thwarted its hold on him it would still be passed on to his children unless he found a permanent solution.

It had been a short passing of time, and yet Sonnet looked as if she’d been wearied by the world in the year that had elapsed. Her eyes were not as wide and bright, and a perpetual tension sat in her shoulders as she assessed the room.

She looks like prey, he realised.

Her eyes dropped to his clasped hands and she nodded to herself. “Selene was amenable.”

Gabe and Skye peered at Wren’s hands, a furrow in each of their brows as Wren lifted his palms up to let the markings catchthe faint light that came in through the window that overlooked the low oak table.

Selene’s blessing was the last component needed for Sonnet to perform the ritual and, somehow, being so close to completion felt much more precarious now than it had months ago when he’d gone searching for the other ingredients the witch would need. It felt like a sword, swinging over his head and ready to drop at any moment, snatching his victory away before it could be claimed.

“When?” he asked, and the question hung in the air as a tension fell over the four of them. Skye and Gabe shared a look, amber eyes meeting blue, and Wren ignored their obvious concern. Yes, finding his mate was a big step, but he had no choice in the matter. It was either perform this unquiet magic or lose his mind to his animal form.

“Tomorrow night,” Sonnet replied, the words firm despite his huff of impatience. “We need the full moon and I need time to replenish my energies. Gather your witnesses, cleanse yourself for what is to come.”

She made it sound… Frightening. “Will it hurt?” The words slipped out before he could help himself and he grimaced.

Sonnet stood and walked to him, her hand touching his forearm briefly as those disconcerting silver eyes stared into his soul. “No, there will be no pain. But that does not mean you won’t have to give something of yourself.” As if that explained everything, Sonnet inclined her head. “I must prepare. Do you have a room for my use?”

Wren jerked himself out of his swirling thoughts and nodded. “Gabriel will escort you.”

Gabe nodded, knowing without asking that Wren meant for him to stay and guard the witch.

The door closed behind them and Wren sat down in one of the abandoned chairs and closed his eyes. He’d nearly forgotten Skye was there until he spoke.

“Who are your witnesses?”

Wren jumped and scrubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly before looking up at his friend where he leaned against the wall by the window, peering outside.

“My mother, my uncle, you, Gabe, cousin Rela, Jamison and his second.” Jamison was the captain of the guard, and Rela was next in line for the throne until Wren had children of his own—though not everyone was keen on a female reigning monarch.

Skye nodded, expression indecipherable. Unlike Wren and Gabe, Skye wasn’t a shifter, but he was one of the most incredible fighters Wren had ever known. Part of it was sheer skill, but it helped that Skye had witch ancestry that had manifested into a subtle gift for precognition. He often knew exactly what move you were going to make before you made it, rendering him a formidable opponent even before his powerful ancestry came into play—his line was much akin to royalty amongst the witches and the consequences would be costly if it were discovered he was aiding a lunar witch.

More than any of that, Skye’s friendship was one of the few constants in Wren’s life. Between court machinations and now the curse, Wren was sure he wouldn’t have survived if not for Gabe and Skye keeping his head on straight and his back protected.

He was taller than Wren and when Skye turned, his piercing blue eyes left no room for escape. Skye often reminded Wren of the Valeneos trees that were his kingdom’s namesake. Shockingly tall and solid, with a sombre dignity that spoke of a wiseness beyond Skye’s years, and dusky brown skin that matched the bark of the Valeneos trees almost perfectly. He’dknown Skye his whole life and he hoped he would know him for many more.

“I take it that there’s no dissuading you from this course of action?”

---