“You understandnothing.” King Draedor stares him down before settling his gaze on Rynthea again. “I’d have to either hate you or be a fool to give you guidance about that island,and neither of those apply. I’m sorry, Rynthea, but I cannot do it. If it is currency you seek, my offer still stands for you to become one of my guards.”
Rynthea groans. “The hours would be too long and inflexible, Your Majesty. I have to be around for Torjack and to keep Kamtaur Inn alive.”
“We have wonderful healers,” he adds.
“I know, but I can’t let Kamtaur shut down. That place is all I have left of my parents.”
King Draedor sighs, then purses his lips, as if he understands exactly where she’s coming from.
“Please,” I beg when Rynthea hesitates on what to say next.
The king and queen place their attention on me with stunned expressions. “It’s a lot to ask, I know. But it’s for my sister. She’s been cursed by a Grim sorcerer and will die if I don’t get one of the prosperity stones to save her. It’s my only shot at setting her free.” I pause, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. “I know I’m simply a mortal, and I understand there are risks, but I’m willing to take them if it means there’s even aslightchance to break that curse and get her back.”
I try not to let my bottom lip tremble as King Draedor scans me. “Your name?” he inquires, eyes softening.
“Zaira,” I answer. “Zaira Quinlocke.”
Draedor raises his chin. The room falls into a thick silence.
“It’s honorable what you’re doing for your sister. I’ve not seen such nobility in a mortal in a very long time.” He looks at his wife, who gives him aplease help them, darlingexpression.
“Nonsense. You encounter nobility every day when it comes to me.” Another beastial saunters into the grand room in a mauve suit, similar in height to the king, only leaner and with slightly less muscle.Slightly. His well-tailored clothing does absolutely nothing to hide his toned arms or the definition of his chest. Unlike Draedor, almost everything about him is mortal minus his eyes, which are the color of a lion’s as well. “Although I am onlyhalfa mortal.”
I’ve never seen a man like him before. There is a controlled demeanor about him, as if he walks into every room knowing his place, confident in where he belongs. And yet…there is also a hint of something feral and untamed within those deep lion eyes. He has the loveliest shade of ochre skin, with hair shaved short on the sides, a sharp contrast to the riot of curls atop his head—thick, natural, and effortlessly regal. Beneath the power of his crown, it seems even his hair refuses to be subdued.
He is easily one of the most beautiful beastials I’ve ever seen—if he is beastial at all. There is something unique about him and the king. They aren’t fully lion or mortal, and they are much taller than any other beastial I’ve seen, excluding Rynthea.
“Kelrean, you were supposed to be here half an hour ago.” Queen Jenia gives him a stern eye.
Ah. The prince. This makes sense.
“My apologies, Mother. I had a rather importantmealto eat.”
I can’t help noticing the mischievous smirk that settles over Kelrean’s lips.
“Very well.” King Draedor’s voice bellows through the room again, stealing my attention back. He continues on like his son and wife haven’t spoken at all. “I will tell you all what I know about The Shallows, but it will have to beafterthe fete.”
“The Shallows?” Kelrean frowns as he looks from his father to Rynthea. “Why on Thelanor are you going there? Are you suicidal?”
“Not even close,” Rynthea says.
The prince’s golden eyes land on mine. He flashes a lopsided smile.
I blush as I smile back. There’s no way a prince is flirting with me.Me, a woman who’s just walked for hours, smells like swamp, and looks like a pile of horse droppings. Nope. Absolutely no way. I avert my gaze, only to catch Thane in the corner, glaring at the prince with heavily knitted brows.
He looks ready to kill.
Clearing my throat, I listen to Rynthea explain for the second time why we’re going to the island of death while Queen Jenia tosses in my reason behind needing a prosperity stone.
“You were right, Father.” Kelrean sweeps his eyes up and down the length of me. “Sheisnoble.”
“Indeed,” responds the king. “Very brave. A true example of Orvena’s courage.”
“And what is your name?” Kelrean asks.
“Zaira.”
“What a beautiful name.” His compliment is smooth. “So full of character.”
