The Leopard King

  A real smile creased the tired lines of her dad’s face. He got to his feet immediately. “Don’t worry about gearing up. We can shift at the pavilion.”

  “That sounds fantastic.”

  At this hour, they only passed a few guards, and the park was empty, apart from Hugh and Arran. She recognized them straightaway, serval and wildcat roughhousing in a patch of snow. For a moment, she just let their joy soak in—two beautiful pride mates in love—and then she hustled after her father, who was almost to the changing area. Pru stripped quickly, put away her belongings, and then shifted; the pavilion was open on one side so the pride didn’t have to worry about dealing with doors in cat form.

  In lynx form, her father was impressive: amber-eyed, big and rangy, with white fluff on cheeks and chin. He bounded toward her and knocked her down with an exuberance she never saw in his human aspect. Pru lashed her tail, sprang over the top of him, and pushed herself at top speed toward the track. Hugh snarled a greeting, but she didn’t pause. Today, she’d just suck in the crisp air, savor the wind in her fur, and run until she fell over. Soon, her dad caught up because he spent his nights building stamina while she was curled up in a cozy bed.

  They ran three laps before more family showed up. Pru had no idea how they’d heard, but she spotted Joss, two younger cousins, along with her favorite uncle. They waved madly on the way to the pavilion, and her heart went buoyant. Why did I think nobody cares? Somebody had clearly spread the word about her ordeal yesterday, and now the family was out in force. It was impossible to laugh as an ocelot, but she hoped the loud purring sent a clear message.

  For at least an hour, she ran, didn’t think, didn’t fear, and it was glorious. Other pride mates had experienced this as kits, but she’d never known how it felt to frolic with her family as a cat. Eventually Joss tackled her, so they went sideways into the snow, and they wrestled until Pru’s muscles felt like jelly. Then she just rolled around in the icy white, kicking up a huge mess, much to her younger cousins’ delight. Eventually her dad signaled toward the changing area with a jerk of his head, and everyone headed that way.

  As she shifted back, a pleasant exhaustion suffused her. Joss waited until she got a shirt on to hug her tight. “I bet it was awful.”

  Pru held on, letting the familiar scent wash over her. “I’ve had better days.”

  Briefly, she wished she could confide in her family, but there was too much at stake to be careless with these secrets. So she pretended she only had the trauma of a dead body weighing on her. Another cousin, Naveen, came over and joined the group hug for a moment, but her grumbling stomach ruined the moment.

  Naveen grinned. “You’re coming for breakfast, right? Ma’s been cooking for two hours.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” she said, smiling.

  From a distance, Dom watched as Pru came out of the pavilion surrounded by her family. Though he wasn’t sure of her intentions, it had straight up sucked waking to a silent apartment and an empty bed. Concerned, he had gone looking, and he half-wished he hadn’t found her, as he felt more alone now than he had on the mountain. Before he hurt her, she had shown him that life could be sweet again.

  He shouldn’t be loitering in the park, quasi-stalking his mate. There was no time to join her family for a long breakfast. Not now. But he wished she’d asked if he wanted to come. Because now, it felt like a party he hadn’t been invited to, so he could only stand in the cold, listening to the laughter and music.

  Enough of that. At least she isn’t with Slay. Seeing that first thing would’ve been creamy shit frosting on a turd cake of a day.

  The day had started out overcast, but a chill wind blew away the clouds, leaving a pale, clear sky. Even in winter, Ash Valley held glimmers of loveliness; Dom couldn’t appreciate any of it. A dark mood gripped him when he wheeled and headed off to find Magda. Talfayen would want a report on their progress first thing, so he had to make the pretense convincing.

  As expected, he found her in the hub, hunched over the screen. From the look of her, she had been up all night scrutinizing footage. Guilt settled on his shoulder, hard. I should tell her not to bother and get some sleep. But that would open the door to questions, and she was too canny to be fooled by random excuses.

  Magda had cared for Dalena too, and if she knew, everything would escalate. There was a saying that two people could keep a secret if one of them was dead, and as of now, they had three in the loop. He didn’t entirely trust the Noxblade, but so far, it seemed like Gavriel had been dealing straight with them. He has a lot to lose if this goes sideways.

  “What have you found?” he asked.

  She growled deep in her throat. “A whole lot of nothing. It’s like the attack on the retreat. The culprit knows all about our security, even where we’ve hidden cameras. Two of the units went down yesterday too.”

  “That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “I’m trying to recover footage, but…” She sighed. “This asshole is seriously pissing me off. Not only is he a ghost, he’s a gifted fucking murderer.”

  “Strange compliment.”

  “I can respect somebody’s skills while still fantasizing about how satisfying it will be to disembowel him.”

  “Don’t prejudge your enemy. It could be a woman. After all, you’re one of the most dangerous people here.”

  Magda brightened at the compliment, which was no more than the truth. “I’ve missed your sweet talk. But seriously, I’m sorry I don’t have any news. Talfayen is going to lose his mind over our ‘incompetence’.”

  “I’ll talk him down.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw just from thinking about it. But he wrapped himself in Pru’s cautionary words, using them as ropes to bind his darker impulses. With a nod for Magda, he strode through the admin center and reached the conference room as Beren arrived.

  The bear lord wore a grim expression. “Bad business. Have you turned up any leads?”

  “Not more than we knew yesterday. We’re looking for an assailant around the victim’s own height, strength enough to overpower him from behind.”

  “Most likely a man,” Beren said.

  Magda could pull it off.

  For obvious reasons, he didn’t say that aloud. “Have you seen any of the Eldritch today?”

  “Not a single flowing lock or a chin hair. Not that they have whiskers.” Beren rubbed his jaw and muttered, “Hairless bastards.”

  “Raff?” Dom asked.

  Beren smirked. “Last I saw, he had a bag of sticky buns and a carafe of coffee. Think he meant to deliver breakfast to your security chief. How would a wolf and cat crossbreed work out, I wonder?”

  “It’s not unheard of,” Dom pointed out. “And from what I recall, the children are one or the other, not mythic creatures.”

  “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you’re fine with mixing across Eldritch and Golgoth lines.”

  In all honesty, Dom had never given it any thought. “It would be hard for whoever gave up home and family to follow their mate to a strange land.”

  “Fool cub. Some barriers even love can’t conquer. This nonsense almost makes me glad my heir has taken a vow of celibacy.”

  The seeds of an idea took root. If words on a page weren’t enough to keep the peace, maybe… well, Dom didn’t have all the particulars in place, so he’d let it germinate for a while. The bear lord scowled, probably over his lack of response, and peered into the conference room. He came up behind Beren to scope things out. Empty. It had been optimistic to entertain the possibility that talks could commence with the shadow of murder looming over the table.

  “Looks like I need to pay a consolation visit.”

  “Better you than me.”

  That seemed to end the conversation, so he left the grouchy bear to his own devices. Dom definitely dragged his feet on the way to see the Eldritch leader, but when he got there, he found a notice on the door that read IN LAMENTATION, DO NOT DISTURB. Though Gavriel hadn’t mentioned anything ab
out such a cultural observation, that didn’t mean anything.

  “I wouldn’t knock,” Prince Alastor said from behind him. “They don’t take kindly to having their rituals interrupted.”

  Something about the Golgoth royal rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was how he always looked like he was about to laugh at somebody else’s expense.

  With effort, Dom kept his expression neutral. “Noted. I hope you can entertain yourself. Seems we have an unexpected day of leisure.”

  “I’m on my way to meet the fair Jocelyn. She’s promised a riveting inspection of your greenhouse. I’d prefer to drink myself into a stupor, but I haven’t given up all hope for later.”

  It was impossible for him to tell if that was supposed to be funny, so he offered a polite smile. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “What I need, pride master, neither you nor anybody in the waking world can provide.” With that quietly caustic rejoinder, the prince sauntered away.

  Dom sighed, wondering how long the Eldritch would be in seclusion. Pru would probably know. After a moment’s consideration, he decided it would be odd not to ask her. Rather than interrupt her breakfast with a voice call, he sent a message.

  Apparently Talfayen is incommunicado, some kind of mourning ritual?

  She replied fast enough to make him smile. Sorry, I completely forgot. Right now, they’re fasting, painting each other in ash, and rending their garments. Tomorrow, they’ll probably want to discuss funeral arrangements.

  Then I guess I have nothing to do today. He didn’t intend that message as a hint, but she evidently took it as one.

  Did you eat yet? If not, come to building four, unit 16. There’s a ton of food left, and I promised you a boisterous family gathering.

  Suddenly the world seemed five shades brighter. Be right there.

  Dom set off at a brisk walk that became a run halfway through the admin center. A few people raised their hands in greeting, but nobody tried to stop him. They probably thought he had urgent pride business, considering how fucked up the situation had become. For the moment, however, there were no fires to put out and he’d savor the eye of the storm.

  He didn’t slow until he reached the third floor, where laughter drifted toward him like a kindly will-o’-the-wisp that could lead him out of darkness, if he was brave enough to follow. Breathing deep, he inhaled the scents of cooked apples, cinnamon and vanilla, warm coffee and buttery pastries. For some reason, the simple act of eating breakfast with Pru’s family gained gargantuan significance. A strange insecurity took hold as he reached the door.

  All I have to do is knock.

  18.

  When Pru’s cousin Naveen opened the door, Pru was startled to see Dom. Though he’d said he would be right over, she’d suspected he was being polite and that she’d have to make excuses to her family. Yet he swept in with a smile, as if they didn’t have a hundred problems boiling beneath the surface. If he was here, however, he must have time for a break, as he wasn’t the sort to shirk responsibility.

  A few more relatives had gathered, so her aunt and uncle had a full house. She spent a few minutes reminding Dom who everyone was, and he frowned. “Why do you seem so convinced I won’t remember their names?”

  Smiling, she whispered a reminder of who everybody was. Uncle Chaz and Aunt Glynnis were Pru’s favorites among many relations; Glynnis was her mother’s younger sister, so when she looked at her aunt, if she half-closed her eyes, she could pretend her mom was still around. Glynnis was more exuberant than her mother had been, but there was a definite resemblance. The best thing about her big extended family was that they didn’t draw lines. Joss was a cousin from her dad’s side, but she was still at this impromptu celebratory feast, filling her cheeks with hothouse strawberries and homemade yogurt.

  “I remember that stage,” Aunt Glynnis said fondly. “Everything seemed like a sweet little secret, didn’t it, Chaz?”

  Pru smiled at her aunt. “I’m just filling him in how everyone’s related to him.”

  “Oh, good thinking,” her uncle said. “It’s a bit complicated at first, but you’ll sort us out in no time as you’re used to managing much more complicated pride business.”

  “Did you tell him I’m the best cousin?” Naveen asked.

  Joss threw a wadded up napkin at her. “As if. What’s the judgment criteria? Are you rating yourself in decibels?”

  “Pot, kettle,” Naveen said, catching the serviette and blotting her mouth with it daintily.

  Laughing, Pru fixed a plate with pastries, fruit, eggs, and crispy bacon and offered it to Dom with a flourish. “Now, now, you’re both pretty.”

  Her aunt circled Dom until he seemed faintly alarmed. “Are you sure you’re feeding him enough? He’s all gristle and teeth.”

  “I’m a good eater,” he said defensively.

  With fixed determination, he devoured all the food she’d given him. Since he’d said bring on the big domestic gathering, Pru didn’t try to shield him from familial interest. Soon he had two small second cousins on his lap, rumpling his hair, while her uncle hovered. Her aunt was watching these two for their mother, her oldest daughter Caroleth, who was currently working in the admin center with Caio.

  “Are you planning to save him?” Joss whispered.

  Pru shook her head. “Dom’s the pride leader. He can extricate himself from Jilly and Jase if he puts his mind to it.”

  “I’m more concerned about Chaz, to be honest.” But when Joss grinned, she seemed more amused than troubled.

  “I have a genealogy chart if you’d like to see it,” Uncle Chaz said.

  As Dom nodded and answered, “Yes, please,” Pru swapped a look with Naveen, who didn’t bother covering up her giggles.

  “Your man’s done for,” the younger girl murmured. “Once Dad drags out all his lineage papers, there’s no shutting him up for hours.”

  To Pru’s vast amusement, Uncle Chaz did haul out all his notes, including a family tree painstakingly charted for five generations, and he explained it all in exhaustive detail with a number of historical anecdotes, some of which dated back to the Great War. As ever, that got Jilly and Jase’s attention, and they paused in harrying Dom to listen to an account of how the Animari won their territory. Since she was a teacher at heart, she seized the moment.

  “What year did we gain our independence? I forget…”

  “1887,” Jilly shouted.

  “Close. It was 1888.” She looked at Jase. “How long was the Great War?”

  He sighed with all the boredom a nine-year-old could project. “We just learned this. In 1876, humans discovered our existence. War broke out in 1880 across two international borders, and we fought hard for our freedom. We allied with Eldritch and Golgoth in 1884. In 1888, the war ended with the signing of the Allegheny Accords. We were awarded territory to govern in the north, humans emigrated voluntarily, and our borders were declared in-in…” As Jase struggled with the word, Pru mouthed it, until he took the cue. “Inviolable. In 1890, we divided our homeland among the victors: Golgoth in the far north, the Eldritch got the far east, and we split the southern remainder, east to west, among the Animari.”

  “Wow,” Naveen said. “He got all the dates right and everything.”

  “Good job.” Uncle Chaz ruffled Jase’s hair, or tried to, but the boy ducked away and put out his tongue.

  “I know things too.” Jilly’s sulky face said she would be wailing soon if she didn’t garner some of the attention.

  “Tell us, please.” Dom bounced his knee once, making the child giggle and earning Pru’s gratitude, as Jilly’s tantrums could be legendary.

  “We got the south, wolves are east, and bears took the north, closest to the Golgoth. But since we were allies in the Great War, we didn’t sign peace agreements until 1907, after the Golgoth started attacking us.” Her recitation lacked the confidence of her twin’s, and she glanced at Dom for confirmation when she paused.

  “You’re on the right track. D
o you remember what the 1907 meeting was called?”

  “The conclave,” she answered, beaming.

  “That’s happening now,” Jase said. “We review the terms every hundred years.”

  Pru got back in on the teaching action. “The papers we sign at the conclave, cementing the peace between our three factions, can anyone tell me the formal name?”

  Uncle Chaz raised his hand, and Aunt Glynnis elbowed him. Pru noticed that her father had filled his belly and nodded off in an armchair, as ever bored by such discussions. His consistency was endearing. Jilly and Jase collaborated on the answer, whispering back and forth, and then Jilly said, “The Pax Protocols.”

  She gave them both a thumbs-up. “Excellent. That’s enough history review for today. I’ll be sure to mention how clever you both are when I see your teacher at school.”

  “Not school.” Jilly moaned and collapsed in Dom’s arms as if she were dying at the very mention of the word.

  To Pru’s delight, Dom played along. “Stay with us, you have so much to live for. If I survived grade four, you can too.”

  Jilly cracked an eye open to ask, “Did you hate it too?”

  “Sitting still is the worst,” Dom said. “But it’s also good to learn things, otherwise your head will float away because it’s too empty.”

  The little girl scowled at him. “That’s a lie. Right?”

  But everyone else was laughing too hard to answer her properly. In the confusion, Pru’s dad woke up and randomly demanded to know who’d stolen his hat. That was funnier than it should’ve been too because she couldn’t ever recollect him wearing one. Joss hugged him and patted his back as she giggled.

  Amid the merriment, Aunt Glynnis drew her aside. “At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of your news because I thought, under the circumstances, that he’d be all somber shadows, but he’s quite a sunny person, isn’t he?” With a pat, she added, “I like him. You chose well.”