Page 36 of Their Witch Bride

When she figures it out, she keeps trying to put pieces together. Sometimes she lifts up the tent material when she does it. Sometimes she steps back and tries to look at everything from different angles, but whatever she does, it doesn’t work… because it’s impossible without someone else to help her.

Rinan tenses beside me when a pole she stuck into another piece falls and hits her on the head. He starts to rise, and I put a hand on his shoulder to push him back down. His gaze sweeps to me, and he looks annoyed, but I shake my head.

This is nothing. Witches have killed and tortured our kind. Countless shifters have died at the hands of her own mother. No one should be feeling bad for her.

No one else is, right?

I glance around the camp, and most of the men look amused by what we’re watching. It’s strange. I’m not the type of guy to enjoy humiliating other people, but she deserves this. She does. They know it too. Yet, I’m not enjoying this as much as I thought I would.

Someone puts more wood on the fire. Embers rise up around us, and she wipes sweat from her brow, still eyeing the tent like it’s an enemy she’ll eventually conquer. Except, she won’t. All her work is in vain. She can never put together that tent by herself.

This is… funny. A small punishment. Just the first of the many miserable things we’ll do to her before this sham of a marriage ends.

I don’t take my eyes off of her.

The tent fabric lies sprawled on the ground like a defeated beast, and Tara steps around it, hesitant but determined. She picks up another pole, and for a moment, it seems like she might have found a way to stretch far enough to get one side up, even with her tiny stature. But then, with a dramatic wobble and a surprised yelp, the whole thing collapses.

I snicker and take another swig from my mug. But when I do, I notice the men around me aren’t laughing anymore. They’re tense, like Rinan, with their eyes focused on Princess Tara.

Fuck. I forgot how protective shifters are. The tiny woman is appealing to their instincts on a basic level. The instinct to protect things weaker and smaller than us. To never allow a female to be hurt in our care. But they’re forgetting that she’s not a woman. She’s a witch.

Is her little show really making them forget?

She steps back, hands on her hips, and lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Okay, tent, you win this round,” she declares.

Tent? Round? What the fuck is she talking about?

“Come on,” she says, her voice cutting through the silence of the campsite. “We can be friends, right?”

I didn’t see talking to inanimate objects coming. The silence of the camp is uncomfortable. I glance around, and the men look unhappy. They’re drinking, but not like before. The laughter is gone. The stories are gone.

Come on. She’s not a female. She’s a witch.

“What’s taking you so long, Princess?” I taunt her, hoping to get a laugh out of the camp and bring them back to reality.

No one laughs. They do avoid my eye contact.

Cowards.

She smiles, her gaze finding mine, and I hate how her smile reaches her big brown eyes. “My good buddy Tent here is not cooperating. But don’t worry. I tend to figure most things out on my own. I’ve got this.”

“I doubt it!” I shout.

No one laughs, but her smile never leaves her lips.

She turns back to the tent. This time she uses a different strategy of trying to wedge a pole against a tree for support. She’s creative, I’ll give her that, but she’s still going to fail.

The pole slips, and the fabric flutters to the ground again.

She lets out a surprisingly happy laugh. “I guess we’re not friends just yet!” she exclaims.

I notice a few of my men smiling, but not like they’re laughing at her, more like they’re smiling back at her, which I don’t like one bit. A few of the other men are staring at the ground. I think they might feel ashamed that they’re leaving a female to do this. But they shouldn’t feel that way, should they? They’re shifters. Warriors. How is she getting to them so easily?

Rinan stands now and takes a couple steps toward her. I’m on my feet in an instant, leaping between him and her. If he caves now, all of this is for nothing. Doesn’t he get it? She’ll see that she can weave us around her little finger. This thing might feel like an insignificant power play, but it’s more than that.

He folds his arms across his chest. His face is tight and his jaw set. This isn’t Rinan. He doesn’t stand against me. Already she’s causing problems. Can’t he see?

“She’ll give up, eventually,” I tell him. “Leave her to it. Come back to the fire.”

---