Page 17

KAZ

T he male in front of me looked nervous as hell. Kept straightening the lapels of his suit jacket and smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his pants. Couldn’t blame him, really. I’d been on the other side of this conversation, though under far different circumstances.

“Prince Kadhan, I mean, Your Majesty,” he started for the third time.

“Kaz, please,” I said, trying to calm him. “This isn’t a formal proceeding. Queen Talia and I just want to speak briefly with both of you.”

“Kaz.” He swallowed hard and nodded, still looking like he wanted to be sick.

“So, Cal. I understand your parents suggested the match,” I prompted. This was the part that mattered. “Did they pressure you? There’s no shame admitting you want something different for yourself.”

“No, no quite the opposite.” A small smile broke through his anxiety. “They noticed I mentioned Nira in every conversation and finally asked if I’d considered having a conversation with her. When I admitted I was too nervous to approach her directly, they offered to speak with her family.”

“And if she refused the match?” I asked.

“I… Well, I’d be disappointed. That she felt she couldn’t tell me herself.” The green tinge returned to his complexion. “But I’d respect her decision. There are plenty of ifrit who prefer to find their mates through less traditional means these days.”

I nodded, keeping my expression blank. “Tell me about her.”

His face transformed. The nervousness fell away, melting into something soft and warm.

“Nira’s brilliant. We’ve been meeting for coffee the past month, and each conversation flows easier than the last. She has this way of explaining complex financial regulations that makes them fascinating.

” He chuckled, his smile going wide. “And she laughs at my terrible jokes.”

I leaned back in my chair, watching. No signs of coercion or rehearsed answers. Just an ifrit clearly smitten with his prospective mate.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. I’d purposefully scheduled this for the end of my day, and time was running short. “Is there anything else you’d like me to know?”

“Just that I’m grateful for these meetings.” His tail flicked behind him. “My grandmother was pushed into a match set by her parents. Even when we were little, my brothers and I could spot the difference after Grandfather passed. I’m glad to know that won’t happen to us.”

Pride filled my chest. It wasn’t a perfect system—none were—but I had to believe it was better than what came before.

Between Talia’s information network and these little interviews, we’d managed to save a handful of young ifrit from lifetimes of unhappiness.

We didn’t want to see anyone else forced to be a pawn instead of a mate.

“I’ll consider everything you’ve shared,” I said, rising to signal the end of our meeting. “You’ll have our decision within the week.”

He stood and bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

I gestured for the guards to escort him out, already convinced he’d receive our approval.

I quickly gathered my notes and slipped them into a folder for Talia to review later, then checked the time again.

Shit . Three more hours until Talia would be home, and I still had clan business to handle before I could start preparations for tonight.

Our anniversary. One year since we’d claimed the throne together.

One year of waking beside Talia, of building something neither of us had dared imagine when her father forced us together. My fingers absently traced the claiming mark on my neck, the skin still warm to the touch even after all these months.

I’d never expected to fall in love with the sharp-tongued princess. Never thought I’d find a partner who matched me in ambition, intelligence, and fire. But Talia had become everything: my queen, my confidante, my mate.

And tonight, I wanted to show her exactly how much that meant to me.

Fifteen minutes and a non-emergency emergency later, the familiar scent of earth and steel washed over me as my smoke cleared.

The converted warehouse had come a long way from the mess of boxes and tangled wires we’d first moved into.

Clean lines, organized workstations, and reinforced walls spoke to both Malak’s obsession with order and Zane’s paranoia about security.

“Look who dragged himself in from the hells,” Zane called from his sprawl across one of the couches in the common area, idly flipping a knife. He tipped his head back to look at me upside down. “Slumming it with us peasants today, Your Royal Hind Ass?”

“Damn, Zane. Only a year to come up with that? Should I assume your letters are coming along, too, or can we keep spelling out secrets around you?” I replied without heat and dropped into a chair across from him. “Where’s Malak?”

Zane jerked his thumb toward the tech room. “Where else? Something about satellite tracking and unholy firewall configurations.”

I snorted. “He kick you out again?”

“Absolutely not. I’m a housebroken gentleman, as well as letter-learned.

Not my fault he doesn’t understand desks are viable footrests.

” He sat up and stretched his arms overhead.

“Malak thinks he has a lead on that vampire smuggling ring we’ve been after.

You staying for the briefing, or just checking in? ”

I glanced at my watch again. “Just checking in. I’ve got plans tonight.”

Zane’s grin turned wolfish. “Ah, yes. The anniversary. Special plans for our queen?”

“None of your business.”

“That means yes.” Zane leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Come on, give me details. I need ideas for when I finally settle down.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You? Settle down? The world must be ending.”

“It might.” He shrugged, but there was something almost wistful in his expression. “Met someone interesting last month on that job in Prague.”

That caught my attention. “Interesting how?”

“Just... interesting.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, we’re talking about you. What’d you get her? Jewelry? Lingerie?” His grin widened. “Or are you the gift, all wrapped up with a bow on your?—”

“If you finish that sentence, I will personally ensure your next assignment is babysitting duty.”

Another shrug. He went back to flipping his knife. “Might not be so bad. Maybe I’ll find my own princess.”

“Actual babies, Zane. With diapers, and puke.”

Zane laughed, the sound echoing through the room. “Cruel and unusual punishment, Your Majesty.”

The door to the tech room opened, and Malak emerged, his hair disheveled and eyes bloodshot. “Thought I heard your voice,” he said, nodding to me. “Good timing. I’ve got something.”

I followed him back into his domain, a maze of screens and equipment that made my head hurt just looking at it. Zane trailed behind us, clearly having nothing better to do.

“I tracked their communications to a port near the border, but that’s where they go dark,” Malak said, pulling up a satellite image. “The warehouse, though, is in a flurry of preparations for something big next Tuesday. Not sure what yet, but based on the security they’re arranging, it’s valuable.”

I studied the zoomed-out building and its empty lot. Malak tapped a few keys, bringing up a different image. The same lot, now very packed. “Could it be for another client?”

“They have no other clients. Not that I’ve found yet, that is.”

“Dig in, and let’s get surveillance on the site. Good work,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Keep me updated.”

I checked my watch again. Still time, but cutting it close.

Malak swiveled in his chair. “Got something important tonight, boss?”

I narrowed my eyes at his benign tone. “Something like that.”

“Does she know you approved Zane’s request for a flamethrower last week?” Malak asked dryly.

I froze, staring at him. “I thought that was a joke.”

“It was,” Zane laughed. “But you signed it, anyway. And now I have a flamethrower, sucker.”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Is there any other business we need to discuss, or did you just want to give me shit?”

“Little of both,” Zane admitted. “But mostly the second thing.”

The familiar banter loosened something in my chest. Despite everything that had shifted in the past year, this remained unchanged.

My clan. My family. The people who’d fought at my side through political storms and literal fire.

The ones who’d followed me into battle against Emil without hesitation.

The ones who still treated me like their pain in the ass brother instead of their king.

Rava strode in from the training room, her tail whipping behind her. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Look who finally remembered we exist.”

“I was here last week.”

“Ancient history.” She grinned. “Shouldn’t you be preparing some grand romantic gesture? Diamonds? A weekend getaway? Or are you just going to set something on fire and call it a day?”

“I am,” I growled. “Or I would be if my family would let me get back to it.”

Her expression softened. “Anything I can help with?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not taking romantic advice from someone who mated an orc because he ruined her mission.”

“Hey, that’s oversimplifying a complex series of events.” She crossed her arms. “And Zral did not ruin my mission. He enhanced it.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“You know,” Rava said, her voice gentler than usual, “a year ago I wouldn’t have believed we’d be here.”

The room quieted. We all knew what she meant. A year ago, we’d been fighting for our lives, for the throne, for a future that seemed impossible.

“You’ve done good, brother,” she continued. “With the crown. With Talia.” She glanced around the room. “With all of us.”

I cleared my throat, uncomfortable with the sudden sentiment. “Don’t get soft on me now.”

She punched my arm. “Never. Just saying thanks, I guess. For making sure Zral and I could have our shot.”