This might actually work.
The thought settled some of his restless energy. Last night had been promising—different in ways that mattered. Faith hadn’t simpered or calculated. She’d challenged him, questioned him, seen past the crown to the man underneath. If they could build on that foundation, if he could convince her to stay...
The comm panel on his desk lit up with urgent blue light, shattering his tentative optimism. Liora’s voice came through the speakers, strained and hesitant.
“Your Highness, there’s... there’s a problem.”
Kovrak’s blood turned to ice. “Explain.”
“It’s Lady Faith. She wants to leave. She’s invoking the exit clause in her contract.”
The words hit him with physical force, stealing the breath from his lungs. For a moment, his mind simply refused to process what he’d heard. The ceremony began in an hour. Thepride was gathering in the gardens below. Varrek would be watching, waiting for any sign of weakness to exploit.
And his mate—his fated mate, the woman who might be his salvation—was preparing to walk away before the first sun reached its apex.
“What happened?” The question came out harder than he intended, but panic was clawing at his chest.
Liora’s voice grew smaller. “I was reviewing festival expectations with her this morning, explaining her role as your companion. I mentioned... I mentioned mate duties. I assumed you had explained the full implications during dinner last night.”
Shit.
Kovrak closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as the magnitude of his mistake crashed over him. He’d chosen comfort over honesty, seduced by Faith’s laugh and the way candlelight had caught in her hair. He’d wanted to ease her into the truth, give her time to adjust before revealing the full scope of what this week meant.
Gerri had likely made the same calculation—tell Faith everything upfront and she never would have signed that contract. Now the truth was surfacing in the worst possible way, without context or preparation.
“I’ll be right there,” Kovrak said, his voice deadly calm. “Don’t let her leave.”
He cut the connection and moved toward his chamber doors, each step deliberate despite the urgency clawing at his insides.
I need to get to her now.
The corridors of the palace blurred past as he moved with barely restrained speed—not quite running, but close enough that servants pressed themselves against the walls to let him pass.
Twenty years of failed festivals. Last year’s humiliation when he’d attended alone. Varrek circling like a predator, waitingfor the perfect moment to strike. The weight of his people’s expectations, their need for stability and continuity.
But as Kovrak’s boots echoed against marble floors, he realized something that should have terrified him: losing the throne felt secondary to losing Faith. The crown mattered, yes. His duty to his people was sacred. But the thought of watching her walk through that portal, of never seeing her smile or hearing her laugh again, made his chest feel like it was caving in.
She’s mine and I’m not losing her.
The thought pulsed through him with every heartbeat, his tiger’s certainty bleeding into his human consciousness.
The open door of Faith’s suite greeted Kovrak like a punch to the gut, confirming his worst fear—she was moments from vanishing, taking his future with her. His chest constricted as he absorbed the scene before him: Faith standing rigid by the doorframe, her suitcase gripped in white-knuckled hands, while Liora hovered nearby with the desperate energy of someone trying to defuse a bomb.
Faith’s fury radiated from every line of her body. Not tears or hysterics—something far more dangerous. The kind of cold, controlled anger that meant she’d already made her decision and was simply executing it. Her warm brown eyes had turned to flint, and the sight made his tiger pace frantically beneath his skin.
I’m losing her before I’ve even had her.
“Liora.” Kovrak’s voice cut through the tension without accusation. “Thank you for your assistance. I’ll handle this.”
The young woman’s relief was palpable as she retreated, casting worried glances between them. Kovrak stepped into the suite and closed the door with deliberate care, the soft click echoing like a judge’s gavel in the suddenly intimate space.
Faith rounded on him immediately, her suitcase hitting the marble floor with a sharp thud.
“I want answers. Real ones this time.”
Her directness hit him like a physical strike. No preamble, no politeness. Just raw demand wrapped in barely leashed fury.
“I did not agree to be actively courted for mating.” Each word came out precise and sharp. “I did not agree to be judged by your pride as a potential mate and future queen. I did not agree to be part of some royal ultimatum where I’m engaged by the end of the week and become queen of an alien planet.”