Page 5 of Claws and Effect

The dismissal in his tone made Laykin’s spine stiffen, but she kept her expression pleasant. Around them, several conversations faltered as pride members turned to watch the exchange.

“Uncle,” Laykin said, her voice soft but carrying. “How wonderful to see you taking an interest in pride affairs again. I believe this is the first council gathering you’ve attended since last year’s budget meeting when your proposal to cut education funding was unanimously rejected.”

A few nearby elders coughed to hide their smiles. Marcello’s eyes narrowed.

“Some of us prefer action to endless meetings, niece. And some traditions exist for good reason. Female leadership is a modern experiment that?—”

“That has resulted in a thirty percent increase in territory security and a forty-five percent growth in pride investments over the past decade,” Laykin finished smoothly. “Under my mother’s guidance, of course. The figures are in last month’s council report, which I’d be happy to have sent to your home since you seem to have missed it.”

The calm factuality of her delivery left no room for argument without making Marcello appear uninformed. His jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Laykin continued.

“As for our alliance with the Rubin tigers, I believe strength comes in many forms. The ability to forge bonds rather than perpetuate ancient rivalries seems particularly valuable in today’s world, don’t you think?”

She offered him a gentle smile that never reached her eyes. Around them, several elders nodded in agreement.

Marcello’s face darkened. “You speak well for one so young, Princess. Let’s hope your tigers appreciate clever words as muchas proper tradition.” He inclined his head stiffly and moved away, his back rigid with suppressed anger.

Elder Griffith cleared his throat. “Handled with remarkable restraint, Princess. Your mother would be proud.”

“Thank you, Elder,” Laykin said, the perfect mask of royal composure still firmly in place despite her racing heart. “If you’ll excuse me, I should greet the eastern contingent.”

THREE

As she moved through the crowd, Laykin felt the weight of her position more keenly than ever. For all her internal rebellion, for all her secret desire to choose her own path, moments like this reminded her why she couldn’t simply walk away. Her pride needed leadership that looked forward, not backward to outdated traditions that valued strength over wisdom.

“There’s our girl” came a warm, familiar voice.

Laykin turned to see her parents approaching, their regal presence causing the crowd to part respectfully. King Hansel Barclay stood tall and imposing in his formal attire, silver streaking his golden hair while Queen Juliette gleamed beside him in a gown of deep gold that complemented her elegant figure.

“You look beautiful, darling,” her mother said, embracing her with genuine warmth. “The burgundy was an excellent choice.”

Her father’s eyes shone with pride as he kissed her forehead. “You handled Marcello masterfully. That old lion needed the reminder that our pride has thrived under progressive leadership.”

“I had good teachers,” Laykin replied, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly in her parents’ presence. Despite her complicated feelings about the arranged mating, she had never doubted her parents’ love for her.

“The eastern delegation is impressed with our quarterly returns,” her mother noted, ever the financial strategist of the pride. “I’ve been discussing potential joint ventures that could benefit both our communities.”

“And I’ve laid the groundwork with their diplomatic corps,” her father added. “The alliance terms are favorable—we’ve ensured your position as heir to our pride remains secure regardless of the mating.”

Laykin felt a rush of gratitude. While arranging her mating, they had still protected her birthright and future role.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for everything you’re doing to make this... easier.”

Her mother squeezed her hand, noticing the bracelet. “I see Frances’s gift arrived. It suits you.”

“The Rubins have excellent taste,” Laykin replied diplomatically, though the weight of the jewelry felt heavier at the mention.

Her father’s expression softened. “We know this isn’t what you would have chosen, Laykin. But your mother and I both believe that given time, this union could bring you happiness as well as security for our people.”

“We wouldn’t have agreed if we didn’t think Zyle Rubin could be worthy of you,” her mother added. “And the treaty timeline gives you months to know him before the mating ceremony.”

The sincere concern in their eyes made Laykin’s throat tighten. They weren’t just rulers making a political alliance—they were parents who wanted their daughter’s happiness even within the constraints of duty.

“I know,” she assured them. “I understand what’s at stake, and I’m prepared to do my part.”

Her father touched her cheek gently. “You’ve always made us proud, little lion. Tonight, enjoy the celebration. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

With a final reassuring smile, her parents moved on to greet other dignitaries, working the room with the practiced ease of seasoned diplomats—her father strengthening political connections while her mother discussed the financial future of the pride with key investors.

---