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SEVENTY-THREE

O utside the council chambers, Luciana lingered on the stone steps, looking lost despite her elegant appearance. Afternoon sunlight caught the highlights in her hair—warmer than Severin’s cold blond, Zina noted.

“Hey,” she called, approaching her fellow guardian. “You holding up okay?”

Luciana’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “As well as can be expected when your brother tries to destroy a town and enslave you in a magical ritual.”

“Fair point.” Zina leaned against the weathered banister. “What will you do now? The Madrigal businesses?—”

“I want nothing to do with them.” Luciana’s voice hardened. “The council has appointed trustees to manage the legitimate enterprises. The rest will be dismantled.”

Xai joined them, his presence drawing glances from passersby. The sight of a dragon elder conversing casually with two lionesses still raised eyebrows in Enchanted Falls.

“You’ll need an occupation,” he observed. “The Pyre maintenance requires regular attention but not full-time commitment.”

Luciana looked toward the town square where normal life continued despite the recent chaos—shifters shopping, witches chatting over coffee, children playing beneath the watchful eyes of a centuries-old oak that occasionally rearranged its branches to provide better shade.

“I’m establishing a foundation,” she said softly. “To repair damage caused by my family over generations. Not just Severin’s recent actions, but centuries of Madrigal... overreach.”

Zina recognized the determined set of Luciana’s jaw—the same expression she herself wore when launching the spa despite numerous obstacles.

“If you need a co-signer for bank documents, let me know.” She offered her hand. “One lioness to another.”

Luciana grasped it firmly, genuine surprise crossing her features. “I thought you’d hate me by association.”

“I’m pretty good at judging individual character,” Zina replied with a half-smile. “Comes from years of client consultations. You can fake a lot of things, but not how you respond during a deep-tissue massage.”

Xai made a sound suspiciously like a stifled laugh.

Luciana’s eyes darted between them, a smile tugging at her lips. “You two are quite the pair. Dragon and lioness—who would have thought?”

“Certainly not the council,” Xai murmured.

“Speaking of unexpected pairs...” Zina nodded toward the council building entrance, where Noven had appeared, scanning the square with poorly concealed interest. The dragon’s security chief straightened when he spotted their group, his casual saunter transparently deliberate.

Luciana’s cheeks flushed slightly. “He offered security consultation for my foundation. Purely professional.”

“Of course,” Zina agreed, exchanging knowing looks with Xai. “Well, we should head to the spa. Staff meeting in twenty.”

As they walked away, Xai leaned close enough that his breath warmed her ear. “Playing matchmaker already?”

“They deserve happiness,” she shrugged. “Besides, Noven’s been staring at her like a lovesick puppy since the ritual.”

“And here I thought dragons were the possessive ones.” He slipped an arm around her waist, the gesture both protective and proud. “Perhaps lions simply hide it better.”

Zina snorted but didn’t move away from his touch. “Lions are pragmatic. We don’t hoard shiny things and breathe fire at anyone who looks at them wrong.”

“We don’t hoard,” he corrected with dignity. “We curate select treasures.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me? Curating?”

His expression turned serious despite her teasing tone. “No, Zina. What I feel for you transcends possession. It’s... reverence.”

The simple honesty in his voice stole her breath. Before she could formulate a response, they reached the spa’s entrance where Jamie was struggling with an armful of fresh towels.

Reality reasserted itself—she had a business to run, staff to manage, and a town to protect. The conversation would have to wait.