Page 1 of Lera of Lunos
1
Lera
This is a bad idea. I step forward, struggling to tune out my own warning.
The sunbathing tiger gives a sleepy snort, his orange- and black-striped body completely covering the fountain’s stone bench. Eyes closed, the great cat has his head pillowed on one large paw, the other front limb hanging lazily down to the ground. Whiskers as long as my forearm sway in the breeze, and the twitching of the cat’s closed eyes speaks of exciting dreams.
However dangerous provoking a sleeping tiger might be, the alternative—letting Tye’s animal form continue to lie in the middle of the Citadel’s courtyard—is worse still. With the rising sun now bringing trainees and staff outdoors, someone is going to get hurt. Killed. Unlike most shifters, Tye’s tiger is unaware of his fae self, which makes him as dangerous as the wild animal whose form he takes.
I take another step forward, my heart pounding. If River is willing to throw King Griorgi off his throne for the sake of Slait and Lunos, then evicting Tye from the Citadel’s central fountain is the least I can do. And then I’ll make the bastard tell me why he shifted in the first place.
I extend my knuckles toward his wet nose, the three paces between us too far for touch but too close to save me if the tiger pounces.A very, very, very bad idea.
“Good morning there, Tye.” I keep my voice low and steady, trying to slow my racing heart. There is nothing more appetizing to a predator than fear. “I know youareTye. And you know me too, don’t you? You are Tye and I am Lera, and you are not going to maul me.”
The morning mist has burned off, leaving golden autumn sunlight, whispering red maples, and a crisp square of green grass and white marble spreading away from us in each direction. Sparrows whistle back and forth, hidden in the branches overhead. Stunning perfection—perfection that Tye’s tiger is daring to mar.
“If it were up to me, I’d string the trainee to a whipping post for this stunt,” a male says behind me. One of the Citadel guards—a pair of them appeared a few minutes ago, their eyes searing my back. With their standard-issue forest-green uniforms and air of jaded boredom, they stand out easily from quint trainees. “The male knows full well that his damn beast is rabid.”
“How long has it been here?” The second male’s voice is low, more likely to avoid attracting Tye’s attention than to conceal itself from me.
“Half the damn night. And now it looks like its breakfast is here.”
“I’ve two darts,” Guard Two says. “Want me to shoot its ass?”
I spin toward the two males, my eyes flashing. If River were here, he’d likely have some appropriately diplomatic way of sending these two to hell, but the prince is scheming with Autumn in the library as he’s been every minute of the three days since discovering Griorgi in Karnish. So the bloody guards will get me instead of diplomacy.
Power surges inside me, saturating my muscles. Not magic—I have no magic without echoing one of my males. But sheer, utter fury is a power of its own. “Hurt Tye’s tiger and I will tear your throats out.”
I little care how much smaller I am just now. How mortal. If one of them picks up that crossbow hanging on his belt, they will both have me to reckon with.
And then they can explain to the council why they killed Klarissa’s pet weaver.
The guards exchange a look and take a step back, their hands rising slightly to show no intention of reaching for a weapon.
I turn back to Tye.
“If she is too stupid to live, that’s her problem,” one mutters to his partner, who snorts in agreement.
Right. They have me there.
I step toward the tiger. Still sleeping without a care in the world, oblivious to the havoc he is wreaking in the Citadel’s courtyard.
“What do you say to napping elsewhere?” I murmur, aware that we are drawing more and more attention. Warriors in training. Visiting scholars. Staff. All gathering for a show, muttering condemnations of an out-of-control shifter. As if Tye is some spectacle to be gossiped about. I take another step toward him. “Your kitty form is... Well, the Citadel guards are running out of clean underwear.”
The tiger gives a small feline snort, his top lip curling up to show fangs glistening in the sun. I wonder if that’s a yes or a no. If I’m the reason Tye has taken this form to begin with. In the days since the trial—or maybe even before then—the emerald-eyed male has grown more distant. Skipping meals. Avoiding eye contact. And now this.Why? Talk to me, Tye.
My soul strains for a connection with him, its absence like a tiny, persistent nail being driven into my flesh. I want more of Tye, but he... I don’t know what he wants. Just that it isn’t me. Maybe that’s why some part of me is insisting on doing this myself instead of calling for River or Coal, a part that’s desperate enough to hope Tye’s tiger might acknowledge me. Might convince his fae counterpart to grant me a chance.
Still snoozing in the sun, the tiger looks like a giant orange plush toy, or perhaps an overgrown housecat.A housecat in whose world you are a mouse.
I take another step toward him, nice and easy, trying to quell the urgency in my stomach. “Could I share your bench?”
One eye opens, emerald green with an elongated pupil, and regards me lazily. The tiger is blissfully unaware of anything but the stone bench beneath him, the sun on his fur. There is no Emperor Jawrar in his world, no coiled tension of River working out a plan to dethrone his father, no vulnerable human wielding more magic than she can control. I wonder what it might be like to wake up in the morning to discover your limbs aching from a hunt you don’t remember, your belly full of meat.
Someone curses behind me and I realize the little scene is gathering an outright audience. I even hear a bet exchanged and cringe with the certainty that good money is not on me.
The tiger closes both eyes, having apparently decided me not worth bothering with. Certainly not when something as important as a nap is at stake.
