Page 9 of Courting the Tiger King

The dirt path they rode was worn smooth from frequent travel, vendors to and from the local towns and villages or passing through on their way to Tarrow in the east where large markets congregated and festivals and celebrations often took place.

Either side of the road stood trees, mostly oak, their trunks nearly triple the width of her body and their height impressive as they curved in from either side, as if they were ushering them ward the palace.

The king lived centrally, just slightly closer to the south of the kingdom than the east, under the guise of accessibility to all the provinces within his land. Personally, Neah thought it more likely that the monarchs simply enjoyed the balmier heat the south offered to the lighter spring sunshine in the north.

Neah had wished more than once that she might get to travel outside of Valeneos, to see other continents, but in her heart of hearts she secretly knew she would miss her home too much. The leaves in the south were a myriad of orange and reds year-round, glimmering like jewels in the cooler months when frost tipped their edges, and nothing compared to the annual lunar festival celebrating the goddess Selene—the moon swelled to triple its size and shone amber instead of its usual silver glow. It was like living in a world of gold and most believed it to be good luck to sit beneath the golden light—some even believed the goddess granted wishes during the small window.

Neah wasn’t sure what she believed, but the goddess had never seemed to answer Neah’s prayers or wishes. Not when it came to setting free her inner shifter at least. The only thing she longed for more than to see the world, was to experience it anew as her animal-self. Maybe it was foolish to wonder, to long, but Neah often played a game with herself, considering whether she would have wings, or paws, or hooves, or maybe even gills. Something about running in the forest on all fours with nothingbut the wind and the taste of the trees in her mouth appealed immensely, but she wouldn’t know for sure what form she took until she shifted.If she ever shifted.

She sighed and let the curtains fall closed, leaning back against the cushioned seat. Her arse was beginning to go numb. For all the pomp and decoration in these tiny boxes, they were awfully uncomfortable. Though, not nearly so much as riding—her inner thighs and back still ached from the punishing pace she’d set before, but she could be glad of it now for it had allowed her to reach Zennon in time to save her life. Perhaps the goddess hadn’t given up on her just yet.

By the time the sun shone high and bright in the sky, they arrived at the palace. She’d brought no bags and so merely thanked the driver and approached the gates of the king’s palace with a grace that anyone would have recognised as nobility if they’d bothered to look.

Guards stood to attention outside the open gates and let her pass with only a brief look and nod. She was a familiar face around here, even if it had been a while since she’d been back, mostly because she was the spitting image of her father. If she’d needed it, she could have provided the seal to the guards that signified her access to the court, but she was relieved she didn’t need it because it was tucked inside her corset and would likely have drawn attention if she’d had to remove it from the brassiere.

The palace was structurally similar to a castle, with turrets and spires that arched towards the blue sky, but was made of a white rock that looked nice in the day but transformed in the light of the moon to become a glowing beacon of resplendence. Ostentatious? Definitely. But it was undeniably a sight to behold.

A long line of steps in the same material as the palace held another set of guards that nodded as she passed and beganthe long climb. Her thighs were complaining and sweat beaded along her hairline under the tenacity of the sun by the time she made it to the top. She took a second to regain her composure and smiled when the guards at the next set of doors swung them open with ease to reveal the hustle and bustle inside.

Some nobles chose to live in the palace, many had their own wings—an honour granted to those who pleased the king or otherwise held high status. Others stayed in the rooms used for travelling visitors, of which there were many.

Neah had her own room in the palace, though it likely needed airing out by now, but that wasn’t her destination. No, she needed to find her best friend and warn the king of the plot she’d discovered at Lord Pembroke’s party. Before they all ended up dead.

CHAPTER FIVE

WREN

His mate was in the palace.His mate was in the palace.His mate wasinthe palace.

It was all Wren could think about. Somewhere within these walls was the person who completed his soul, who called to the tiger beneath his skin, whose heart beat in time to his.

And he was fucking terrified.

Lady Zennon had arrived with the dawn, while Wren had been sleeping. The ritual Sonnet had performed had taken a lot out of him. More than he’d expected. He’d slept for a full day and had risen to the news that his mate had arrived.

The relief was tempered by nervous anticipation and then soured further when he learned of the brutal attack Lady Zennon had faced—and thwarted.

Wren smirked into his tea as he lifted the cup to his lips. Of course his mate had taken on four assassins and lived to tell the tale. She would be a match for him in every way.

His mother sighed and patted the hardwood of the table between them, snapping his thoughts away from Lady Zennon and back to the present where the late queen had clearly been speaking while he’d daydreamed.

“I’m glad to see you looking well, darling.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he murmured, replacing the cup in the delicate saucer gently so as not to cause a clatter. He couldn’t say he particularly cared for the beverage, but it was what was expected, a genteel drink to mask the wild nature of the beast-king.

The urge to smirk rose again and he barely quashed it as his mother continued talking.

“Nasty business about the attack, has there been any luck in finding who is responsible?”

He frowned and shook his head. “Not yet.” Even if there had been any information, he wouldn’t have told her. His mother was a beautiful woman, as elegant and graceful as the swan form she sometimes inhabited, but she was also a gossip. While he’d have liked to believe that in a matter as serious as this she would have held her tongue, he couldn’t be sure. Not when someone at the ceremony had to have been responsible for the attack. Nobody else had known of his intent to retrieve Lady Zennon.

A circle of his closest confidantes and family members, and yet someone had tried to kill his mate before the guard could reach her—and likely would have succeeded if not for Lady Zennon’s own prowess.

The betrayal cut deep, like a physical wound that pulled when he moved and rubbed against his clothes. Or maybe that was just his tiger, prowling below the surface, half a heartbeat away from exploding from his skin to hunt down those who were responsible.

Soon,he consoled himself. When he found out who had done this, they would wish for death.

It would not come swiftly.

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