The aftermath of betrayal settled over the village like ash from a fire that had burned too hot, too fast. Ravin and Leon had gone immediately to the King and Queen, their faces grim masks of controlled fury as they relayed what had transpired. The throne room, usually filled with the warm sounds of counsel and community, fell into a silence so complete I could hear the torches sputtering in their brackets.
Cyrus. The name tasted like poison on every tongue. Aureon’s own uncle had orchestrated the attack, weaving a web of deceit so intricate it would have ensnared an entire kingdom. The plan had been elegant in its cruelty: murder the prince, blame the lions, watch the two tribes tear each other apart while Cyrus stepped into the power vacuum left by his nephew’s death. And with the Lion Tribe still rebuilding; still burying our dead from the cheetah attack that had ravaged us months ago; we were vulnerable in ways that made my stomach clench with dread.
"We lost a quarter of our warriors in that conflict," Raon said, his voice heavy with the weight of command. His eyes, usually so warm when they looked at me, had gone cold with strategic calculation. "Our walls are patched, not fortified. Our stores are replenished, but barely. Another war..." He trailed off, the unspoken truth hanging in the air like a curse. Another war might break us entirely.
Aureon, fully healed but his wounds in his heart will take months maybe even years to heal after the betrayal of his uncle. "I am sorry," he said, the words rough with pain and shame. "I brought this to your door. I brought them here, trusted them, and now you pay for my blindness."
Raon crossed the room in three strides and pushed the younger male back down with a firm hand on his shoulder. "You did not wield the blade, Prince. You threw yourself in front of it. That is not fault. That is sacrifice."
But something shifted in Aureon’s expression then, a darkness pooling in his golden eyes that had nothing to do with his injuries. His breathing hitched, from a realization that seemed to physically sicken him. "The attack on my tribe," he whispered, the words barely audible. "The one that killed my brothers. My mother’s other mates." He looked up, meeting Raon’s gaze with horror dawning across his features. "I have never... I never considered..."
"You think it was him," Veylan said, understanding blooming in his voice.
Aureon nodded, looking suddenly like he might vomit. "Cyrus was the only one who survived that attack. The attacked happened that night, so many of our beast men died, but Cyrus and his mate and their cubs all lived no casualty in their home as if they were off limits..." His hands trembled where they gripped the armrests. "If he killed my brothers, if he killed my mother’s bonded... I have been sleeping under the same roof as the monster who murdered my family. I have called him uncle. I have broken bread with him." The color drained from his face completely, leaving him grey and shaking. "I feel sick."
Ravin stepped forward then, ever the pragmatist, ever the warrior. "Then we prepare. We train harder, build stronger, and dig deeper. If Cyrus wants a war, we will not be caught unarmed again."
The meeting stretched for hours, plans and contingencies spinning like webs across the chamber. My other mates; Veylan, Caelion, and Soryn listened intently, offering suggestions where their expertise allowed. By the time we finally returned to our home, the moon had climbed high and my bones ached with exhaustion.
But my mind would not rest.
I sat by the fire, watching the flames dance and consume, thinking of Aureon’s proposal. He was young; barely past the threshold of adulthood, his cheeks still carrying the last softness of youth that would harden into the planes of a man’s face in the coming years. And yes, my other mates were younger than me too. But Aureon’s youth felt different, more pronounced, a reminder of the nearly a decades between us.
And yet.
I could not stop seeing the moment he had thrown himself between Jasper and Torin’s claws. Karl’s against Atlas. I could not erase the memory of his blood on my hands, his laugh turning to a wet cough, his stubborn insistence on negotiating for my approval while he was dying. The fool. The brave, beautiful, persistent fool.
Two realizations struck me with the force of truth. First: I could not imagine a world without Aureon in it. The thought of his smile extinguished, his laughter silenced, his white hair no longer catching the sunlight when he visited; the way he crawled into my heart as he did with my cubs, it felt like a wound before it was even inflicted. Second: I had grown accustomed to his presence. More than accustomed. I anticipated it. I looked for him in crowds. I smiled when I heard his voice carrying across the clearing.
He had grown on me, like moss on stone, like vines on a wall; slowly, inexorably, until I could not see the structure without seeing what had attached itself to it.
So what if he was younger? In my old world, as long as both parties were of legal age, age was but a number. Compatibility mattered more than counting years.
That night, when all my mates had returned and the cubs were fed and the fire burned low, I gathered my courage like armor and spoke.
"I am thinking of taking Aureon as my mate," I announced, the words dropping into the room like stones into still water. "But I want your thoughts."
The silence stretched, heavy and expectant.
Leon was the first to break it, his face twisting in a grimace that looked like he’d swallowed something sour. "I don’t like the guy," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his massive chest. "He’s smug. He’s entitled. He looks at you like you’re the last meal before winter." He paused, his jaw working. "But he saved you. He saved our cubs." The admission seemed to cost him something. "I could see he wants you. Really wants you, not just the prestige. So I’m willing to accept him. Reluctantly."
Ravin nodded, his expression softer than Leon’s but no less serious. "I accepted him the moment he threw himself in front of those claws. He saved my boys. That debt doesn’t get repaid. It gets honored."
"He has a fearless strength," Veylan added, his scholarly tone warming with genuine respect. "And a sharp mind. He will do well in protecting you when we cannot be around. I am... more than okay with the tiger prince. I am impressed by him."
Caelion simply shrugged, his easy smile in place. "I don’t have an issue either. More hands to help with the cubs, more eyes to watch the perimeter. Seems practical to me."
Then came the sound of Soryn dramatically throwing himself backward onto the furs, one arm draped over his eyes like a tragic heroine in a play. "Another competitor," he moaned, his voice muffled by his own sleeve. "For my female’s love and my Jasper’s affection. How will I survive this indignity?"
I fixed him with my most exasperated look, the one that had stopped cubs in their tracks and made warriors reconsider their life choices. "There is no competition. I love you all equally. And Jasper loves you just fine, you dramatic menace."
Soryn peeked out from under his arm, his golden eyes sly. "Fine," he sighed, the sound theatrical and drawn out. "I’ll concede. But only because he apparently has nine lives, and I’m not willing to test how many he has left." He reached out and scooped Jasper into his arms, hugging the cub close. "You’re still my favorite, right Jasper? Tell Daddy Soryn he’s still number one."
Atlas, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout this exchange, suddenly shot to his feet, nearly knocking over the water basin in his excitement. "I accept! I accept!" he yelled, bouncing on his toes. The same cub who had once hated Aureon with the burning passion of a thousand suns, who had sulked for days when the tiger prince visited, who had competed ruthlessly for every scrap of attention; now beaming with approval. "Aureon can stay! He can be my other dad! He lets me win at wrestling sometimes!"
"Atlas, he lets you win because you’re the size of his leg," Leon muttered, but there was warmth in his voice.
"Me too! Me too!" Jasper shrieked from Soryn’s grip, squirming until Soryn set him down. The cub toddled over and grabbed my hand, his small fingers sticky with honey from dinner. "I like Aureon too! He gives good piggyback rides!"
Soryn clutched his chest as if physically wounded. "Jasper! Don’t you love Daddy Soryn anymore?"
Jasper tilted his head, considering this with the gravity only a 9 month old cub could muster. "I do, Dada Soryn," he said solemnly. Then, with perfect comedic timing, he added, "But I like Aureon too."
"But you love me more, right?" Soryn pressed, dropping to his knees to be eye level with the cub. "Tell Daddy he’s the best. The absolute best. Number one. Top of the list. King of the mountain."
Jasper looked at his birth father, then at Soryn, then back at me. He seemed to sense the weight of the moment, the way the room held its breath. Then he turned back to Soryn, snuggled deep into the male’s arms as if trying to burrow into his very soul, and whispered loud enough for the entire den to hear, "Yep. Dada Soryn the best."
Soryn’s triumphant grin could have lit the village.
"Jasper..." Ravin’s voice came from the corner, dry as dust. "I’m your father. Your actual birth father. I fed you. I taught you to walk."
Jasper looked at Ravin. Looked at Soryn. Looked back at Ravin.
Then, with the merciless instinct of a child who knows exactly which buttons to push, he turned his face into Soryn’s neck and snuggled closer.
"You little—" Ravin started, lunging forward with mock ferocity.
I laughed, the sound bubbling up despite everything, despite the fear and the blood and the war looming on our horizon. "He loves you, Ravin. He’s just playing favorites right now. It’s a phase."
"A phase," Ravin repeated, collapsing back into his chair with a sigh that spoke of parental exhaustion and wounded pride. "He called Soryn the best. Soryn. The one who ’accidentally’ taught him how to climb the roof."
"That was one time!" Soryn protested.
"Three times," Leon corrected.
"And he only fell twice," Soryn added defensively.
I smiled, looking around at my chaotic, ridiculous, beautiful family; the mates bickering with the ease of long practice, the cubs shrieking with laughter as Soryn tickled Jasper into recanting his favoritism, the fire warming a home that had nearly been broken today.
Aureon would fit here. Somehow, against all logic and reason, the stubborn tiger prince would find his place among this madness.
And I found I was looking forward to it.