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The jewel-covered paw flailed impatiently over the older Leopardine’s head. “Not compatible, you fool. As if some Hawkite female could hatch a cub in her egg. Or some filthy Canid—”
“I work with Canids, Father.”
“Well. I don’t have anything against them as a group, son. But none of their females would ever bear you a child. If we ever hope to rebuild our wealth and position, you’ll need sons. Even daughters would be good—very good actually. We’d have them betrothed from birth!”
Ardol cocked his head. Normally, he would have licked his lips and nodded along. When his father spoke of brokering deals and pulling the strings that made up the fabric of people’s lives—he felt an echoing rush of power, a wave of eagerness for the time when that would be his right.
Right now, he just felt... off. Like something he’d always known was now strange. “Father, can you keep a secret?”
“If it’s to my advantage, then yes.”
“It is to my advantage, and therefore yours. There is a doctor who has helped human females from Sapien-Three carry Leonid cubs.”
“Deformed monsters!”
“No! No, look.” Ardol hastily scrolled through his communications, looking for the pictures the proud captain had sent. As he scrolled, his eyes caught sight of a new communication—this one in answer to his contract offer!
“Look,” Ardol repeated breathlessly when he found the image of the two cubs. “Their fur is lighter and their faces are more narrow, but they are clearly Felid!”
His father leaned forward and squinted. “It’s not possible.”
“It’s possible—but it’s not something just anyone could do. I can’t imagine the cost for civilians.” He watched his father’s eyes spark with interest. If there was one thing his father loved, it was a chance to indulge in privileges others could not. And why shouldn’t he? He was a District Lord! “I’m a crew member. Queens are scarce, and if I wait another four or five years, the young Queens coming of age will choose younger Leopardine Knights. I’ll be past my prime then.”
“Nonsense.”
“Father, it’s a buyer’s market—and we are no longer the buyers.”
“Hm. I suppose you’re right. But what does this mean? Do you have a human Queen?”
Ardol scrolled through the communications list and chose the newest one.
Lynx-Nineteen Contract Management: Jade Pennington has offered her contract as a match to your offer.
Ardol ignored his father’s impatient mutterings, eyes locked on the image in front of him.
A slender redhead with a lofty tilt to her chin and her lips lifted in a smile.
Pretty, in a strange way. Her health report was acceptable from a frantic glance—at least in the only area he cared about.
“Ardol? Answer me!”
His eyes skated over her short note of introduction at the end, and Ardol’s chest relaxed.
“I’m still getting married as planned, Father. I’m only changing the bride.”
JADE PACED IN HER ROOM, ignoring the dinner Griselda served, a hearty lentil and razortusk stew. She walked past the untouched bowl for the hundredth time, tempted to bite her nails.
Don’t. He won’t want a bride with shot, stubby nails, nor ragged ones.
He won’t want you at all.
It had been a day since she had offered her contract for his approval. Why hadn’t she heard back?
Another lap around the square confines, skirting the bed and the chest of drawers she used as a table. The feeling of being unwanted, of waiting to be bought—it brought back flashes of horrible nights, nights when she wasn’t claimed by a client. She’d felt alone and afraid then, too. If she missed more than one night in a row, she numbed herself and pushed past her reserves and boundaries to make sure she found a client for the night.
After all, the rules of the Pleasure Parks stated that if you missed three nights in a row when you were physically able to work, your contract status was moved from permanent to probationary.
What if he’s as bad as some of your “never again clients” from your past?
