Page 3 of Claws and Effect

“Your mother has excellent taste,” Seren said diplomatically. “And the foresight to have your measurements on file with the designer.”

Laykin narrowed her eyes. “How convenient.”

“Let’s try it on before you start another conspiracy theory,” Seren urged, already reaching for Laykin’s robe sash.

Twenty minutes later, Laykin stood before her full-length mirror, surprised by her reflection. The engagement gown fit perfectly—hugging her curves before flowing gracefully to the floor. The emerald color made her skin glow and her eyes shine.

“I can actually breathe in this,” Laykin noted with surprise, taking an experimental deep breath.

“Revolutionary concept—formal wear that doesn’t double as torture devices.” Seren circled her, adjusting a fold here and there. “You look magnificent. Even with that expression.”

“What expression?”

“The one that says you’d rather wrestle a crocodile than attend your own engagement ceremony.” Seren placed her hands on Laykin’s shoulders. “Seriously, you’re about to be mated to the most eligible alpha bachelor in shifter society, and you look like you’re sucking on lemons.”

Laykin snorted. “I’m sure Zyle Rubin is a paragon of charm and warmth.”

“Have you even seen a photo of him?”

“No, and neither have you.”

“I tried to find one,” Seren admitted, scrolling through her phone. “Nothing. The man’s like a corporate ghost. Plenty of articles about his business deals, but not a single photo.”

“How is that possible in this century?” Laykin asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Apparently, Zyle Rubin values his privacy. The press release only described him as ‘the formidable tiger shifter behind Rubin Corp’s global expansion.’ Not exactly helpful.”

“Great,” Laykin sighed. “I don’t even know what my future mate looks like.”

“I’m picturing tall, uptight, and scowly,” Seren offered. “With little spectacles and a pocket protector.”

Laykin snorted despite herself. “Thanks for that mental image.”

“Now, for tonight’s gala ensemble.” Seren helped Laykin out of the gown and reached for the second garment bag. “This one’s more traditional royal wear, I’m afraid.”

The gala gown was undeniably regal—deep burgundy silk with intricate gold threading that formed subtle lion motifs along the bodice. Higher collar, more structured shoulders, and a slightly more conservative cut—the perfect blend of tradition and elegance expected of the Summit princess at a formal pride gathering.

TWO

As Laykin slipped into the second gown, a knock at the door announced a young lioness shifter carrying a small velvet box. “Princess Laykin, a gift has arrived for you from the Rubin Pride.” She bowed slightly before presenting the box.

Laykin’s stomach tightened. “Thank you, Maya.”

After Maya left, Laykin stared at the box without opening it.

“Well?” Seren prompted. “Aren’t you curious?”

With reluctant fingers, Laykin opened the lid. Inside lay an exquisite bracelet—white gold set with alternating emeralds and diamonds. A small card nestled beside it read:To our future daughter, may this be the beginning of a joyful union. With warmest regards, Frances Rubin.

“That’s... surprisingly thoughtful,” Laykin admitted, lifting the bracelet.

“It matches your eyes,” Seren noted. “And tomorrow’s dress. Someone did their homework.”

Laykin slipped it onto her wrist, the cool metal a tangible reminder of her new reality. “I’ll wear it tonight. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

“Look at you, already being the perfect daughter-in-law,” Seren teased, but her eyes were kind. “Maybe they won’t be terrible in-laws. Maybe Zyle won’t be terrible either.”

“Maybe,” Laykin echoed, though hope felt dangerous. Better to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised than to hope for kindness and find only cold duty. “At least I have tonight to prepare before meeting him tomorrow.”

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