Page 7 of Claws and Effect

“He’s notmytiger,” Laykin corrected automatically. “And I know as much as you do. Zyle Rubin, businessman, alpha of the Rubin Pride. We meet tonight.”

“Ah, but what do youhopehe’s like?” Gerri pressed. “Deep down, beneath all that royal duty and diplomatic training, what does Laykin—not the princess, not the heir, just Laykin—hope to find in a mate?”

The question struck uncomfortably close to private thoughts Laykin rarely examined. Her childhood fantasies of a mate who would see her, not her title. Someone whose strength matched her own. Someone who would run beside her across the savannah, not just stand beside her at diplomatic functions.

“Hope is irrelevant,” she said instead. “This match serves the pride.”

“It can serve both the pride and your heart,” Gerri countered. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“In my experience?—”

“Your limited experience,” Gerri cut in, “as someone who has never actually met her fated mate.”

Irritation flickered across Laykin’s face. “Ms. Wilder?—”

“Gerri.”

“—Gerri. I appreciate your concern, but I’m quite content with my situation.”

“Content.” Gerri’s voice dropped. “Not exactly the emotion most people seek in a lifetime partnership.”

Laykin stood, signaling the end of their conversation. “Thank you for your visit, but I really must prepare for my meeting.”

Gerri rose, but as she turned to gather her bag, her elbow caught the edge of her teacup. The shimmering liquid splashed across the desk, droplets spattering onto Laykin’s cream blazer.

“Oh!” Gerri exclaimed. “How terribly clumsy!”

Laykin jumped back, but not before the tea soaked through the silk onto her skin. The liquid burned pleasantly warm where it touched, sending an unexpected tingle up her arm. For a heartbeat, the office around her blurred at the edges.

A vision flashed through her mind—piercing silver eyes set in a face framed by white. Not human, not quite, but watching her with an intensity that stole her breath. The image vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving Laykin disoriented.

“What was that?” she demanded, blinking rapidly.

“What was what?” Gerri asked innocently, dabbing at the spill with tissues from her purse. “Oh, the tea? Just herbs and a bit of magic. Nothing harmful, I assure you.”

“Magic?” Laykin backed away. “You put magic in my tea?”

“Not inyourtea. You didn’t drink any.” Gerri’s smile turned mischievous. “Just on your lovely blazer. Which I am deeply sorry about. Send me the cleaning bill.”

Laykin stared at the silver-haired woman, suspicion mounting. “Who are you really? What do you want?”

Gerri straightened, her demeanor shifting subtly. The eccentric matchmaker remained, but something older, wiser, more purposeful shimmered beneath the surface.

“I’m exactly who I said—a matchmaker. And what I want is what I always want: to help fated mates find each other.” She stepped toward the door, then paused. “Remember this, Princess Laykin—some arrangements are written in the stars long before they’re written on paper.”

With that cryptic statement, Gerri glided out, leaving behind her half-empty thermos, the package of cookies, and a thoroughly perplexed Laykin.

Seren appeared in the doorway seconds later, eyes wide. “Was thattheGerri Wilder? The matchmaker? What did she want?”

Laykin touched the damp spot on her blazer, the tingling sensation already fading. “I have absolutely no idea.”

FIVE

“The expansion plans for the youth education center look promising,” Laykin concluded, sliding the final document across the boardroom table. “With proper funding, we can double our impact by next quarter.”

The charity board members nodded approvingly. After three hours of budget discussions and strategic planning, the meeting had accomplished more than expected.

“Excellent work, Princess,” Margaret Chen, the foundation’s director, said warmly. “Your attention to detail with these initiatives continues to impress us.”

---