“And your finances much depleted anyway,” Bran murmured.
Pako laughed and headed off to save the flustered merchant.
“My Lord cen’Vyr,” someone hailed.
The Fangrys Prime turned to face the mayor. “What is it?”
The male paused in his approach, then found his courage and continued walking toward the Fangrys Prime until he stopped at a respectable three large steps from the lord of the region. He took a deep breath and said, “I have received complaints from several males.”
“About what?” Bran inquired, his tail slowly swishing.
The mayor’s own tail curled. “The females are giving them orders!”
“Would those males know what to do if the females in charge of the festival did not tell them?” Bran asked, keeping his tone reasonable.
“It is unseemly for a female to tell a male what to do!”
“Ah, it seems they would not,” Bran concluded. He took a step toward the mayor, and the mayor scrambled backward to remain the respectful distance just beyond the reach of Bran’s heavily muscled arm and sharp claws.
“No good will come of this violation of the natural order,” the mayor threatened.
Bran glanced at the busy people surrounding them, listening to chatter and laughter and even some off-key singing. He sawa handful of children running about on errands or just chasing each other for fun. “I see nothing untoward.”
“You give your mate too much lenience. You are too permissive with her.”
Bran’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, angling his long, sharply pointed horns toward the mayor. “My mate is none of your concern.”
The mayor huffed. “It will be when she disgraces you with her loose behavior.”
“Loose?” Bran echoed in astonishment. Then he laughed. “If there is anything—anything at all—of which I am certain, it is my mate’s fidelity.”
“No male can be certain of that.”
“Do you not share your mind with your mate?”
The mayor was appalled. “And weaken my intellect by sharing a female’s imbecility?” He stiffened his spine and puffed his chest. “This explains your woeful permissiveness with the Prima.”
Bran drew himself to his full height. The bright sunshine gleaming against his golden hide made him appear regal and intimidating, reminding all who saw him as to whyhewas a warrior triad’sprime. “Mayor, present yourself, your mate, and your dyad bond to me the day following the festival.”
Thinking he had impressed the Fangrys Prime, the mayor bowed and took his leave, although he had not gotten the immediate concession of the Fangrys Triad controlling their wayward, insolent mate as he had hoped. Perhaps arrangements had gone too far to disrupt them right then, and the Fangrys Prime would take his mate in hand following the festival, as was proper.
Bran, surmising the mayor’s conjecture, said nothing to correct him. Doing so in public would shame that male who, perhaps, did not quite deserve such harsh treatment. He planned to set his lovely mate to speaking with the mayor’s mate to discern whether that female was being mistreated. If so, public humiliation would be the least of the mayor’s worries.
He turned around to join Ursula and Zul, but they were already headed back toward him. He met them halfway and asked, “What else is there to be done?”
“I’ve got to stick around for a while longer,” Ursula said. “Some vendors are coming in from out of town to set up, and I should be here when they arrive.”
“She has established a deadline for setup today,” Zul explained, resting a hand lightly on Ursula’s shoulder. “I will stay to protect her if you wish to return home.”
Bran gave him a small smile, mouth closed so as not to reveal any pointed teeth. “No, Zul, I think it sends a necessary message if we are both here.”
“Lending my little festival your royal consequence?” Ursula remarked.
“Something like that,” Bran replied. “If you thought the mayor was disappointed that you were actually allowed to organize something more complicated than a dinner, then you would not believe how outraged he is to see that you have actually been allowed a position of authority.”
“Allowed?” she parroted, eyebrows rising.
“His word, not mine.”
