Page 3 of Claws and Effect (Paranormal Dating Agency #87)

TWO

A s Laykin slipped into the second gown, a knock at the door announced a young lioness shifter carrying a small velvet box. “Princess Laykin, a gift has arrived for you from the Rubin Pride.” She bowed slightly before presenting the box.

Laykin’s stomach tightened. “Thank you, Maya.”

After Maya left, Laykin stared at the box without opening it.

“Well?” Seren prompted. “Aren’t you curious?”

With reluctant fingers, Laykin opened the lid. Inside lay an exquisite bracelet—white gold set with alternating emeralds and diamonds. A small card nestled beside it read: To our future daughter, may this be the beginning of a joyful union. With warmest regards, Frances Rubin.

“That’s... surprisingly thoughtful,” Laykin admitted, lifting the bracelet.

“It matches your eyes,” Seren noted. “And tomorrow’s dress. Someone did their homework.”

Laykin slipped it onto her wrist, the cool metal a tangible reminder of her new reality. “I’ll wear it tonight. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

“Look at you, already being the perfect daughter-in-law,” Seren teased, but her eyes were kind. “Maybe they won’t be terrible in-laws. Maybe Zyle won’t be terrible either.”

“Maybe,” Laykin echoed, though hope felt dangerous. Better to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised than to hope for kindness and find only cold duty. “At least I have tonight to prepare before meeting him tomorrow.”

“Tonight you just have to smile, make small talk with the elders, and not punch your uncle Marcello when he inevitably says something offensive,” Seren reminded her, adjusting the fall of the burgundy gown.

“It’s fine,” Laykin interrupted. “Maybe Zyle will be... tolerable. Maybe he won’t look like he eats small children for breakfast.”

“Now there’s the positive attitude we’re looking for,” Seren said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “He’s probably hoping for the same thing, you know. ‘Gosh, I hope this lioness princess isn’t completely hideous.’“

Laykin laughed, grateful for Seren’s ability to lighten even the most oppressive moments. “When you put it that way, maybe we’re perfect for each other. Two people bound by duty, hoping the other isn’t completely awful.”

“A romance for the ages,” Seren deadpanned, securing a simple gold pendant around Laykin’s neck. “Songs will be written. Poetry composed.”

“Shut up,” Laykin grinned, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

Seren stepped back to admire her work. “There. Now you look like a princess who could command armies—or at least survive a gala full of nosy elders.”

A soft chime from Laykin’s phone indicated another message—her father this time.

The council is assembling. Your presence is requested in the grand hall.

Reality crashed back. Laykin drew a steadying breath. “It’s time.”

Seren squeezed her hand. “Remember—shoulders back, chin up, and if all else fails, imagine the elders in ridiculous underwear.”

“Seren!”

“What? It’s impossible to be intimidated by someone once you’ve pictured them in lion-print boxers.”

Laykin shook her head, trying and failing to suppress her smile. “You’re terrible.”

“That’s why you love me,” Seren replied cheerfully, ushering her toward the door. “Now, go dazzle the old guard with your princess charm. I’ll be right behind you, taking detailed mental notes on who looks most likely to cause trouble.”

The grand corridor stretched before them, its walls adorned with portraits of Barclay ancestors—generations of proud, regal faces that seemed to watch with solemn eyes. Pride members bowed respectfully as Laykin passed, murmuring greetings and good wishes.

“Princess Laykin, you look radiant,” called an elderly lioness shifter.

“The Goddess smiles upon this union,” added another.

“We’re proud of you, Princess,” said a young mother, her cubs staring at Laykin with wide-eyed admiration.

Laykin acknowledged each comment with a gracious nod and smile, the mask of royal composure firmly in place. These people believed in her, trusted her to protect their interests. Their approval warmed her even as the reason for it filled her with dread.

The grand hall gleamed with soft golden lighting, centuries-old chandeliers casting a warm glow over the assembled pride members. Elders in traditional robes clustered in small groups while business leaders and younger members mingled near the refreshment tables. The air buzzed with anticipation—tomorrow’s engagement ceremony was the first alliance of its magnitude in generations.

Laykin moved through the crowd with practiced ease, greeting each group with the perfect balance of warmth and dignity her position required. The weight of the Rubin bracelet on her wrist served as a constant reminder of what was to come.

“Princess Laykin,” Elder Griffith appeared at her side, more formal than usual in his ceremonial robes. “The council is pleased with your punctuality. Your attire is suitable, and I see you’re wearing the Rubin gift. Your mother will be pleased.”

“Thank you, Elder Griffith,” Laykin replied, her voice measured and controlled. “Have our guests arrived yet?”

“The advance delegation is here—advisors and lesser family members only. The Rubins themselves will arrive tomorrow.” His gaze lingered on her bracelet. “The tiger pride seems determined to make a good impression.”

Before Laykin could respond, a sharp voice cut through their conversation.

“Griffith, surely you can’t be serious about this arrangement.”

Laykin turned to see her uncle Marcello approaching, his lean frame rigid with disapproval. Though he shared the Barclay family’s golden-brown coloring, his features were sharper, his eyes colder.

“Marcello,” Elder Griffith nodded stiffly. “This is hardly the time?—”

“When better to discuss the future of our pride?” Marcello interrupted, barely acknowledging Laykin with a cursory glance. “A female heir binding our bloodline to tigers? It’s unprecedented. Pride leadership has always been strongest under a proper alpha lion.”

The dismissal in his tone made Laykin’s spine stiffen, but she kept her expression pleasant. Around them, several conversations faltered as pride members turned to watch the exchange.

“Uncle,” Laykin said, her voice soft but carrying. “How wonderful to see you taking an interest in pride affairs again. I believe this is the first council gathering you’ve attended since last year’s budget meeting when your proposal to cut education funding was unanimously rejected.”

A few nearby elders coughed to hide their smiles. Marcello’s eyes narrowed.

“Some of us prefer action to endless meetings, niece. And some traditions exist for good reason. Female leadership is a modern experiment that?—”

“That has resulted in a thirty percent increase in territory security and a forty-five percent growth in pride investments over the past decade,” Laykin finished smoothly. “Under my mother’s guidance, of course. The figures are in last month’s council report, which I’d be happy to have sent to your home since you seem to have missed it.”

The calm factuality of her delivery left no room for argument without making Marcello appear uninformed. His jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Laykin continued.

“As for our alliance with the Rubin tigers, I believe strength comes in many forms. The ability to forge bonds rather than perpetuate ancient rivalries seems particularly valuable in today’s world, don’t you think?”

She offered him a gentle smile that never reached her eyes. Around them, several elders nodded in agreement.

Marcello’s face darkened. “You speak well for one so young, Princess. Let’s hope your tigers appreciate clever words as much as proper tradition.” He inclined his head stiffly and moved away, his back rigid with suppressed anger.

Elder Griffith cleared his throat. “Handled with remarkable restraint, Princess. Your mother would be proud.”

“Thank you, Elder,” Laykin said, the perfect mask of royal composure still firmly in place despite her racing heart. “If you’ll excuse me, I should greet the eastern contingent.”