Page 69 of Courting the Tiger King

She didn’t like it, but Neah could respect that. She, too, would do questionable things for the ones she loved. “Leave.”

He left, and the remaining four guards seemed to take that personally, as if it had been a test of their character, or strength. And it had, but not in the way they thought. Swords were drawn and she watched impassively as they directed them at her.

“Just stay where you are,” one of them said, dark eyes serious. “Stay there, and you won’t get hurt.”

“Funny,” she murmured, strolling closer to the bars and peering into his face. “That’s usually my line.”

If they were still inside the palace, like she suspected, then it wouldn’t take Castor long to reach Wren. He had at least a ten-minute head start, plus however long it took her to get past the men he’d left behind. Hopefully that wasn’t too late to prevent him from handing over his crown.

Neah slid a palm on the inside of two bars and pushed, pleased when they gave and bent. These, at least, were weaker than the chains on her shackles. Two of the swords closest to her drooped in shock as she wriggled through the enlarged gap and smiled.

“Now, what were you saying about getting hurt?”

Maybe it was the fact that she was still barely clothed, or that she held no weapon, or possibly even that they’d witnessed her bend metal with her bare hands, but the guards didn’t seem to know what to make of her bravado.

The one at the front, with the dark eyes, at last made his decision and swung for her with his sword. She stepped beneath the broad stroke easily, laughing darkly when it brought her intohis space and she grabbed the dagger at his belt and drew it across his throat.

They hadn’t hesitated to kill Romi. She couldn’t hesitate now.

Blood flashed out from the wound and she blinked it out of her eyes, disturbed by the pink tinge in her vision as the death of one of their own shook the three guards out of their stupor.

Two charged at her and she ducked before striking up at the hilt of one sword and sending it flying away as the other passed harmlessly overhead. A glancing blow to her shoulder slowed her momentarily and a second one crashed into her stomach, but she refused to let it slow her down.

A knife flew from her hand, the first guard’s blood zipping through the air in small droplets as it left the blade in time for it to gain a fresh coat as it landed with a squelch into the eye of the guard swinging for her.

He dropped and the two guards left decided there was safety in numbers, retreating toward each other and then advancing with their swords held aloft. Neah bent and grabbed the sword of the guard whose throat she’d slashed, throwing it from hand to hand to test its balance before blocking the first strike aimed her way and knocking that blade free from the guard’s hand. She caught it in mid-air and cocked her head as the guard gaped, his sword now firmly in her grip.

Generally, she didn’t recommend throwing away her weapons, but she had no need for two swords. So she launched the one in her left hand, sending it flying toward the empty-handed guard like an arrow and watching as it hit his chest dead-centre, the force driving him back toward the wall.

The final guard had bided his time, but when he came for her, she was ready.

“It really didn’t have to be this way,” she murmured as she stepped over the bodies and let the sword drop to the floor, it would only slow her down. She had a ceremony to get to.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

WREN

They had searched for Castor right up until the deadline for the ceremony, when they’d had to admit defeat. He would be there, Wren was sure. But it still felt like he’d failed his mate in not being able to find her. The shackles effect on her magic had dampened the fragile thread of their bond so that he couldn’t even follow that to find her. Wherever his uncle had her tucked away had to be one of the infamous, secret rooms built into the palace. Wren had found many of them over the years, but plenty still eluded him.

By now, the court would be gathered and waiting for him and Neah, ready to celebrate their bond. Except, Neah wasn’t there. The breath caught in his chest and Wren coughed lightly as he adjusted the cuffs of his custom ceremonial wear and straightened his golden crown. The details were lost on him as he kept imagining the worst, Neah’s body lifeless at the altar, his uncle waiting for him with a smile next to her body.

Wren shook his head, as if he could rid himself of the image by force.

A steadying hand touched his arm and he nodded when Skye asked if he was okay.

The truth was that he was a wreck. He was trying to be strong, but rage and sorrow waged a war inside of him that left him shaken.

“It’s time,” Sonnet said, cutting through the buzzing that had risen up around him and left him unmoored. “Are you ready?

Wren nodded. He could do this. For Neah.

He pushed a smile onto his face and let Sonnet walk into the great hall first, Gabe and Skye at her side. Waiting a beat, Wren looked to the floor and tried to slow the racing of his heart before jolting at a touch on his inner arm.

His mother smiled at him. “You didn’t think I’d let you walk alone, did you, cub?” Wren’s shoulders eased and he managed a wobbly smile back. “There. You see? No need to be nervous. Your other half is waiting for you.”

He swallowed thickly but nodded. Nobody knew the ceremony had descended into a farce, little more than a trap for his uncle, but they would soon enough.

Wren walked into the hall with his mother on his arm and wrath in his blood.

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