Page 9 of Courting the Tiger King (Romancing the Realms #2)
CHAPTER EIGHT
WREN
G olden eyes had haunted Wren’s dreams. It had been a surprise to learn that his mate was human.
Such matches were not uncommon, of course, but he’d been so sure that Selene had been telling him his mate would bear his stripes.
Maybe the goddess had meant metaphorically.
After all, Lady Zennon must have been a warrior indeed to take on four assassins and live to tell the tale.
So perhaps her stripes were beneath her skin, adorning her soul.
Wren sighed, leaning back in his chair as he waited at the long table that had been laid out for breakfast.
The Lady seemed pleasant enough, attractive, he supposed, with her dark hair and pouty mouth.
So why did he still dream of golden eyes?
Sonnet, Gabriel, and Skye had joined him at his request as they awaited Lady Zennon and her companion to arrive and Wren found that he was nervous. What if they had nothing in common? What would they talk about? What if the Lady didn’t want a mate?
“Are you certain the spell worked as intended?” The words slipped from him before he could think twice and even Skye looked affronted that Wren was questioning magic.
“Of course it worked.” Sonnet rolled her eyes. “If it had failed, I certainly wouldn’t have stuck around.”
“It’s just that?—”
The doors to the small dining hall swung open, cutting off his words, and Wren swallowed before standing to greet his guests.
Lady Zennon was remarkable in a dress made of indigo that fluttered around her form as she walked, slits in the sleeves showing off the creamy white skin beneath, but when she smiled up at him he couldn’t help the feeling that something was wrong .
He smiled back nonetheless and reached automatically for her hand, brushing a kiss across the delicate knuckles before withdrawing and turning to her companion.
Bright eyes ensnared his and for a second he couldn’t breathe.
He shook himself out of the stupor and smiled, looking awkwardly away as he accepted Lady Neah’s hand and pressed a similarly chaste kiss to its back.
Except, it felt less like a kiss and more like the exhilaration of paws hitting the ground beneath the moon, the thunder of his heartbeat so loud he was surprised nobody else remarked upon its echo in the room.
Wren relinquished his grip and took a large step back. Whatever kind of shifter Lady Neah was, it called to him—but Zennon was his mate.
He pulled out her chair and reclaimed his own in time for the servers to bring out platters of fruit and oats, cooked meats and eggs, and honey wine which he declined. He needed his wits about him.
“Thank you for joining me,” he said once everyone’s plates were full. “Dig in.”
A murmur of chatter broke out as cutlery scraped across plates but Wren found his appetite had largely vanished.
He poked half-heartedly at the sausage on his plate and instead watched the two women interact at the opposite end of the table.
They seemed close, sharing looks and quiet whispers that spoke of friendship and the kind of comfortability he felt around Gabe and Skye.
Speaking of which, the two were at odds sitting opposite each other. They almost never fought, though it was clear to Wren what—or rather who —had come between them. Yet, the silver-eyed witch watched them with worry, as if dissension had never been her intent.
Wren was so lost in his thoughts he nearly missed the question that Lady Zennon posed to him and even so, it took him a second too long to respond.
“My apologies, Lady, my mind was elsewhere. What did you say?”
Zennon smiled and it was graceful, patient. “Not to worry, my king. I only asked if you enjoyed your breakfast.”
“Please, call me Wren.” He smiled and she inclined her head. “Truthfully, though the spread is fantastic, I find my appetite somewhat reduced this morning.”
A throaty chuckle made his body perk up, alert, and he wanted to curse when he realised who it came from.
“I think you make him nervous, Zen,” Lady Neah said in a mock-whisper and Wren scowled.
“You do realise that’s your king that you’re speaking of?” The words were haughty and he was surprised by them. He didn’t mind good natured ribbing, but something about this woman… she pushed his buttons in all the wrong ways.
“Goodness,” Neah said, eyes widening with fake surprise. “I suppose I am as unobservant as I am forgetful, Your Majesty.”
Something told him that Lady Neah was neither unobservant or forgetful.
Warmth stained his cheeks as he fought the urge to bite back, to squabble like a twelve-year-old pulling a young girl’s hair, and so he settled for mumbling, “That’s quite alright.”
Thankfully, Lady Zennon didn’t seem off-put by the turn of the conversation. “You’ll have to forgive Neah, she’s spent some time in the north recently and, as such, has forgotten all manners.”
Neah rolled her eyes and speared a sausage with her fork, biting into the end with such vigour that he knew he wasn’t the only male at the table wincing. There was a sparkle in her eyes that irked him, like she was taunting him on purpose and, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, it was working .
“Well, we can’t help our friends,” he said, and even he could recognise the snide quality to the words. Still, Lady Zennon just kept smiling like she was in on the world’s funniest joke but had neglected to share it with the rest of them.
“I take personal offence to that,” Gabriel muttered and Skye nodded in agreement.
“So many fragile male egos,” Sonnet remarked, sighing, and Neah chuckled.
“You took the words right out of my mouth. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
Sonnet smiled. “A deliberate oversight, I’m sure. Wouldn’t want us ladies getting together and putting all sorts of thoughts in each other’s heads, would we?” Neah laughed and Lady Zennon giggled alongside her. “I’m Sonnet.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
How was it that the witch had made a better first impression than he had? At least Skye’s feelings towards Sonnet hadn’t shifted, judging by the glare he had levelled on the witch at any given moment.
“And you, Lady Zennon? Did you enjoy your breakfast?” Why did he suddenly feel so awkward? Like he was grasping at straws to maintain the barest hints of dry conversation.
“Very much, thank you. It was a strange day and a half, so the normalcy was refreshing.”
“Did you really take on four assassins?” Gabriel took over the conversation and Wren felt relieved and then profoundly guilty.
All first meetings are awkward, he reasoned. Just because he didn't immediately click with Lady Zennon didn’t mean he wouldn’t ever do so.
The two women on the end of the table glanced at each other and Neah waved her friend forward, as if encouraging her to tell the tale.
“Truly, it was nothing exciting,” Lady Zennon said, glancing down at her silverware and jumping when Gabriel let out a laugh that echoed even in the relatively small dining room.
It was only for Wren’s personal use, for more informal settings than that of the banquet hall, and he liked to think it was cosy—for a palace, anyway.
“Nothing exciting? Do you frequently conquer your enemies so easily, then?”
“Oh, no. I just mean that I was very lucky. They weren’t very good assassins.”
Wren’s brows scrunched together as he tried to puzzle the Lady out. Was she merely being modest? Or was she hiding something? But what? And why?
“And, well, my guards did some of the work,” she continued and Wren relaxed. Her guards. Of course.
“Speaking of assassins,” Lady Neah said and Wren nearly groaned. “Do you have plans in place to keep Zennon safe in the palace?”
Skye raised a brow at Neah. “In the palace? There are guards everywhere, nobody would dare attack her here.”
Neah looked unimpressed. “Complacency is death. You may as well swan around the place with a target painted on your chest.”
Wren tried to hide a laugh behind a cough and was sure he didn’t succeed when Neah gave him a look of surprise and Skye scowled. “We can, of course, provide a personal guard for you, Lady Zennon.”
“I’d also like her to be moved to my room,” Neah continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Safety in numbers,” she added when she noticed their quizzical looks.
“You have a room in the palace?” Sonnet asked and Neah’s face shuttered. Interesting. So she didn’t like to talk about her father.
No. It wasn’t interesting . Nothing about her should intrigue him. Not when his mate sat on her left.
“Yes,” Neah said, the word not inviting further questions. Her eyes caught his and held, a challenge flaring there that had his instincts sitting up and paying attention. This woman may be dressed as a noble, but everything inside of him told him what really lurked below the surface: predator.