Crede sidles beside me, and I angle my body away from him as I wrap my arms over my chest. He leans in, his nose high as he sniffs the air around me. His face contorts, disgust evident in his ugly sneer. “Seems the court isn’t the only one excited for this fight,” he whispers, his lips inches from my ear.
On my tiptoes, I pivot and, as trained, I glide to my mother on soft feet, leaving Crede to stew in his misery alone. When I glance back at Noble, he nods, his dark hair spilling over his face and covering his eyes that have turned an opaque black. He’s seconds away from shifting, and I drive my tongue into my cheek.
“My Lord,” he repeats, his voice rougher, his posture more rigid. “I’ve come to speak to you of my betrothal to your daughter.”
My father sits on his haunches and tilts his head, letting Noble know he has the king’s attention. My mother slides her hands into the crevice of my arm and squeezes. I cover her hand with mine and we share a look, mine silently telling her how I feel and hers brimming with understanding.
She kisses my cheek. “Love will come, dear one,” she says loud enough for me to hear, but too low for anyone else to notice.
“It has been said in four days’ time, I am to wed your daughter. I am here to challenge you, the King of all the Realms, for my lady’s hand. If it pleases you and the queen,” he bows his head, his gaze falling on my mother and she bows her head in return.
Crede laughs, a dry sound that infuriates me. “Is the idea of marrying Liana so horrible, you wish to die?”
A few members of the court chuckle with Crede but stop when my father growls.
“My king,” Crede says, neither dipping his head nor sinking into a customary bow when addressing my father. “It is my understanding you and the king wolf agreed this pup would not fight you, that you waived our traditions for his sake.” He sneers in my direction while my attention darts between the three commanding men in the room. “Noble, you have been granted a great reprieve. Take it, for your sake and the sake of your future wife. ‘Tis better to forego your pride than wind up dead. Don’t you agree, Liana?”
Confusion wars with anger and the awakening lion quakes in response. Rather than rise to either emotion, I send Noble a reassuring smile. I want him to fight. I want him to earn my hand the way every lioness’ hand has been won from the first generation. Fair or not, I expect it of him.
Again, Noble’s blue eyes darken, the blackness spreading as his body trembles, but he doesn’t turn to Crede when he continues to speak. Instead, his gaze stays on my father, who waits patiently for Noble to reply. “Quite the opposite. I find Liana to be an exquisite creature and woman. One I’ll honor in marriage as my partner and as the future mother to my children, the heirs of Winter.” Finally, he turns to Crede, and levels him with a grave expression. “I find I want to honor my bride and follow her traditions so that when Liana is by my side both realms will recognize I am worthy to be her true mate.”
Pride builds and swells inside me until I can’t feel anything but the growing sentiments I hold for Noble. My Noble. My courageous wolf who will fight for me, for my hand when neither king requires it of him.
With a final squeeze to my arm, my mother leaves me and walks to stand beside my father. I follow half a step behind her. She runs a hand through my father’s mane and he leans his large head into her outstretched palm.
Noble bows again while my mother regards him. From the corner of my eye, I see my mother’s lips twitch and I suppress my own smile. Noble peers up at me, and in front of the king and queen, he winks at me. My teeth dig into my bottom lip and I shake my head.
“I suggest you rest then, Noble,” my mother says. “We’ll send word to your king and queen. The fight will take place before sunrise.”
“My thanks.” His bow deepens.
I step forward and curtsy, with a smile flitting across my face. Reaching to me, he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. We linger for a few beats and when he drops my hand. I feel naked, far more naked than I did last night when I stood in front of him bare. I’m eager to touch him again, to feel the warmth of his skin on mine, to clasp onto the strength that seems to flow through his veins.
“I’ll show you to your quarters,” I say, casting my eyes down so he doesn’t see what I’m not ready to show him.
My father growls, making us both stop and direct our attention to him. My mother rolls her eyes, rather unroyally, and strokes the top of my father’s head.
“Hush now, my king. They’ll be fine,” she reassures him.
She shoots me a playful look and I rush Noble out of the court before my father changes form and demands we stay apart from one another.
Not that I’d listen. As we walk through the large doors and make our exit, I shoot a quick glance at my parents and from the somber expression on the lion’s face, I know he also understands I wouldn’t listen.
Past long halls and empty rooms, I guide Noble through our castle. His attention swivels in all directions as he takes in the proud history of our pride that we display on the high walls. Wars won. Lives lost. They’re all there.
Every memory we can never forget takes residence among us, because it’s a part of who we are. Embedded into each cub so that when we mature, we grow knowing the souls who risked it all for us. Our pride.
He takes it all in, the pictures, maps and sculptures with a serious demeanor, and I can’t help but feel grateful he doesn’t scoff at my history. We lions are a proud people, and I’d hate to quarrel with my husband the day before he battles my father because he was disrespectful to my lineage.
Outside his bedroom door, I summon up all the remaining courage I can muster, and reach for the knob. He beats me to it and holds the door open for me.
“My lady.” He nods.
I saunter past him, another smile splayed across my face. “I thought you said you’d only call me that in public.”
He throws his head back and laughs and – God almighty – what a sound he makes. It’s joyous, sure. But more than that, it’s exuberant, full of a life I yearn for.
“You’re not quite what I expected,” I say when his laughter dies out.
Creases fold over his forehead as he contemplates my words. “What did you expect?”
“Not this.” I wave my hand at him. “Not what you showed at the court.”
“You told me to fight for your hand.”
“I did.” I touch his face, tracing the sharp planes with a finger. “When I went to you, I didn’t know my father and yours had waived our traditions. I thought you were meant to fight my father.”
“And you wanted me to win?” He smirks.
“I did. I still do. But Noble, why would you race into the night to challenge my father to a fight when you didn’t have to?”
“For you, my lady. You asked me to not hold back. I’m only doing as you wish.”
“Yes,” I agree. “And you not holding back is fascinating. Magnificent, really. I wish you to never hold back, Noble. I want to always see you as you are right now, so unbridled by your restraints.”
“That’s not something I’m certain I can give you. I fear I’d hurt you if I don’t show restraint around you.”