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Had she really frightened off those coyotes by herself, after shifting in front of a male no less? A foreign male? Her cheeks heated uncomfortably just thinking about it, but then her wolf’s self-assurance rose up inside her with a warning growl of approval.
Both she and the creature had marveled in wonder when Bronze’s skin shifted and liquid metal poured over and hardened around every chiseled slope of muscle, but it was her wolf that had whined in terror the instant his armor suddenly faded and that coyote’s fangs punctured his flesh.
The rest was a blur of predatory determination and fierce worry like she’d never experienced before. It was both acute and alien, and nearly stole the breath from her lungs.
She’d never been more grateful to see that charming mouth twisted into a wry grin when she’d first laid eyes on the angel after coming out of her shift. It was almost enough to make her forget that she wasn’t actually mating him for any emotional attachment.
But goodness, the relief that struck her once she determined he wasn’t fatally harmed had hit her just as strongly as she had the coyotes.
Preferring not to examine that too closely, she mentally chastised her wolf for bringing the memory up.
Once firmly inside the stronghold, Clara and Bronze made it as far as the foyer outside her father’s receiving room before one of his elite guards standing at the entrance saw them and immediately ran toward her and Bronze.
Broderick, one of the more open-minded of the king’s males, smiled at her with exuberant relief but didn’t take his eyes off her battered companion. Or his hand from the hilt of his weapon strapped across his chest. “Lady, are you all right? Where have you been? The king has been asking after you all morning.”
All morning. So her father hadn’t noticed she’d left last night. Good.
“Thank you, Broderick. Yes, I’m quite well. I had some business with a few of the local farmers along the edge of the western territory. It’s June, and the lupine flowers have just begun to bloom for the season. They don’t grow this far into the mountains, and I promised my staff I’d press some of the blooms for them, but the farmers only permitted me to go out there before the start of business this morning. I didn’t want to get in anyone’s way, so I left early and quietly, hoping to be back by midday.”
Whew. The lie flew from her tongue easier than she’d expected, and judging by the curt nod of Broderick’s dimpled chin, it had worked.
“And who is this male?”
Clara dared not risk turning back to look at Bronze, but she gathered, just from how thick the tension had grown in the small hallway, that there was much the angel wanted to say, no doubt with a fair amount of foul language thrown in. To her eternal gratitude, however, he remained quiet.
Thank the Moon Mother for small mercies.
“On my return, I ran into a bit of trouble with coyotes. This male, Bronze, came to my aid, as you can see. I wish to introduce him to the king so I might formally express my appreciation before seeing to his injuries.”
Broderick narrowed his eyes in Bronze’s direction and assessed him again, but before he could open his mouth to speak, another voice traveled through the open door.
“Then please, daughter, don’t linger in the hall with him like some insipid traveler who doesn’t know how to ask for what she needs. Let me see the male.”
King Halpin’s command carried through the ancient stones of the keep and straightened the spine of everyone it reached. Broderick, for all his brawn, still flinched slightly before clasping his heels together and returning to his post outside the door. Even Clara, who’d lived all ninety-four of her years under the scrutiny of that baritone, ducked her chin out of habit. Bronze, however, didn’t even register the barest perception or interest. An awareness, yes, one that had been studiously employed since they first set foot onto the lycan lands, but there wasn’t an ounce of deference in his demeanor for the male he was about to meet.
That will change, she thought, though she wasn’t as strong in her conviction as she’d once been. Goodness, not even a day in the angel’s presence and already his arrogance was rubbing off on her. If this kept up, what else might she adopt?
Clara didn’t want to think about it as she led the way into her father’s receiving room, ignoring the counselors and advisors huddled around the king, and halted at the edge of the burgundy French Aubusson rug. She was careful to keep her toes just shy of the shadow cast by the massive black walnut desk that nearly spanned from wall to wall. As a young lycan, she’d learned to stay out of her father’s shadows. As a grown female, she’d learned to stay out of even those shadows that were extensions of him.
Instead of staying behind her as he had done in the foyer, Bronze stood next to her, with his hands braced behind his back and the toes of his boots hanging over the edge of the rug, disinterestedly bleeding all over the thing and firmly engulfed in the imposing shadows of her father’s desk.
“Father, this is Bronze. He is?—”
“Not a lycan.”
Clara’s stomach plummeted. The king’s booming declaration was low in timbre but loud in proclamation. A tremulous silent warning echoed around the room. Then her father slowly rose from his seat, and Clara called on years of patience to resist rolling her eyes at the display of dominance. How many times had she witnessed his knuckles braced on the desk as he forced his muscles to fill with a strength that had begun to flee over the last century of disuse? There had been a time when the silver in his beard had been prized and distinguished, born of his gray wolf’s coat and a mark of lycan supremacy. Now, the silver had overrun the rest of his beard, and its sleek precision had long been tarnished with the advancement of age and narrow-minded ableism.
“No, I am not,” Bronze responded.
Clara couldn’t comprehend what would have compelled Bronze to admit that so soon. Although, it wasn’t as if they’d discussed it, and thanks to her ongoing foolishness and lack of foresight, they hadn’t exactly determined a workaround.
Dammit. Why hadn’t she thought of this? No humans were allowed in the lycan lands. They weren’t allowed to know of her species’ existence at all! But he couldn’t exactly confess to being an angel, could he? One who possessed power her father couldn’t conceive of? Oh, no, that wouldn’t go over well. The blow to the king’s ego alone wouldn’t be one any of them would so easily come back from.
The king lifted a bushy brow, seemingly intrigued, or perhaps desirous of carrying out an execution so early in the afternoon. God, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “You are not a human, either.”
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
