Page 5 of Courting the Tiger King

He blinked, sweat dripping into his eyes and making them burn, and he made out Skye’s blurry form stepping back into the place Sonnet had assigned. “I’m okay,” he rasped and Skye nodded, eyes burning brightly as he watched Sonnet the way a predator sized up prey.

Sonnet reached for him, unflinching when Skye hissed out a warning, and took Wren’s hands, helping him to his feet and guiding him on stumbling steps to the silver bowl.

Her dagger gleamed brightly, the hilt plain silver and the blade reflecting his own feverish gaze back at him. She cradled his palm in one hand and pressed the tip of the dagger to his lifeline, tracing the thin line so delicately he nearly didn’t feel the sting of the cut.

The droplets of blood fell into the bowl and his stomach dropped as the magic took what it needed from him, energy or magic or both, Wren couldn’t tell.

A map of the kingdom was laid out on a small table in front of the bowl and his blood sank into the depths of the mixture. Sonnet’s hands glowed as she placed them on either side of the altar, her head falling back as light erupted from her form until it faded. She murmured her thanks to the Goddess and when the bowl spilled onto the parchment, it moved languidly like it had thickened.

His muscles shook, the energy the magic had taken from him leaving him weak, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t take his eyes off of the place where the mixture met the map and began to fade as if it had been absorbed, leaving only a ring marking the parchment.

As quickly as it had come, the energy in the air dissipated and Sonnet murmured under her breath, the candles extinguishing with only a motion.

“Did it work?”

Exhaustion pushed at every inch of his body and remaining upright was taking more effort than he had. Sonnet looked nearly as wrecked as he felt.

Her fingers traced the ring on the map. “It worked.”

Relief made him dizzy and Wren leaned gratefully on Skye when he approached before accepting a skein of water from Gabriel and gulping it back. It helped some, but sleep was the thing he needed most right then. He’d known to expect the energy drain though, so his men were readying themselves to travel out and retrieve what was his.

“Where?” The words were half-gasped as hope squeezed the breath from him.

“Midmyr Forest.” Sonnet smiled and Wren reached for her, squeezing her hand in thanks and then wincing at the lingering soreness in his palm. It would heal, but not until his body rested. He had too little energy right then for his magic to tend to the wound. “Your mate can be found there.”

“Half a day’s ride,” Gabe murmured and Wren nodded shakily. His mate had been so close this whole time. “I’ll instruct the guard.”

“Thank you.” He sagged and then his mother was there, clasping his face in her cool palms as she smiled at him, green eyes twinkling.

“I know this was a necessary evil, but I’m so proud of you, cub.”

Wren pressed a kiss to her cheek and knew he needed to leave before he fell down. “Skye,” he murmured quickly, sensing the encroaching bliss of sleep as his body demanded rest and recovery. “Look… after Sonnet.”

The words were all he was able to sigh out before his eyes closed and his body fell limp.

CHAPTER THREE

NEAH

The manor house amid the trees was dark when Neah approached. It had taken her three days to reach Midmyr Forest and she’d opted to eat and replenish her energy in a tavern in the nearby town before proceeding to Zennon’s estate.

Her thighs were sore from the ride and she smelled more like horse than she typically liked, but the information she’d stumbled upon was more important than her discomfort. So she’d ridden hard and fast, desperate to reach the part of her kingdom that she’d once called home, before anyone could realise what she’d discovered and stop her from warning the king.

She’d arrived in Midmyr yesterday evening and had made camp in the trees, waiting to see if she’d been followed. No such pursuer appeared, but Neah still couldn’t relax. Instead, she’d walked the cobbled streets of the town and did what a spy did best: listened.

The chatter was minimal, mostly local gossip about whose wife was cheating and how the price of grain had increased thanks to the ongoing tensions with nobles in the further northern reaches of the kingdom.

When Neah was satisfied that she wouldn’t be bringing chaos to Zennon’s doorstep, she’d set off for the house and had found it unnervingly quiet.

The trees rustled in the breeze and awareness skittered across Neah’s spine. She couldn’t place what it was, but something wasn’t right here.

Her footfalls were quiet against the compact earth, her dark cloak barely stirring the leaves that littered the ground as she leapt over the high hedge that surrounded the estate and flanked the heavy gates that protected the property.

She may not have been able to shift, but her senses were still sharper than that of a human and her strength and speed were heightened too. Maybe one day her animal form would come out of hiding, but admittedly she’d begun to doubt the excuses her parents offered of her being a ‘late bloomer’.

The thud of her feet hitting the ground was minimal, but she froze in place all the same, waiting for a sound to indicate she’d been caught. When nothing moved, she continued toward the house looming up and over her in a dark silhouette.

Where were all the guards? Zennon was a noble and typically had a small retinue to look after her and the grounds, yet nobody had noticed Neah’s presence. While she was good at what she did, she wasn’t sure she could claim this as a result of her own, sheer talent.

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