Page 43 of Asking Fur Trouble

TWENTY-NINE

Charov steered his sleek silver hovercraft along the winding road that led to his family’s country cottage. The morning sun glinted off the polished metal, casting golden ripples across the dashboard. His hands gripped the controls firmly as he glanced over at Bess, whose face was alight with wonder at the passing landscape.

“The mountains look different out here,” she said, leaning closer to the window. “More vibrant somehow.”

“The Mavac Range has a different mineral composition than the mountains near the castle,” Charov explained, enjoying her fascination. “The sunrise hits them just right this time of year.”

His bear lounged contentedly within him. After that night with Bess—their bodies intertwined, her soft moans filling his chambers—his inner animal had become increasingly insistent that they make things permanent. For once, the man and beast were in complete agreement.

The cottage came into view—a sprawling stone structure nestled against the mountainside, surrounded by gardens his mother had cultivated for decades.

“It’s really beautiful,” Bess whispered.

“Wait until you see the inside.” Charov’s lips curved into a smile. “My great-grandfather built it himself after winning the territory in the Third Bear Wars.” Pride swelled within him as he parked the craft. “My father proposed to my mother here.”

The significance of his words hung between them, but Bess didn’t catch on—exactly as he had planned.

His mother met them in the grand foyer, her eyes rimmed with red but her posture regal as ever. She embraced Bess warmly before turning to Charov.

“My son.” Her voice still carried the heaviness of her grief.

“Mother.” He wrapped his arms around her, his large frame dwarfing hers.

They settled in the sunroom overlooking the eastern gardens. Charov couldn’t help but notice how naturally Bess fit into the space, how she looked at home in the antique furniture that had been in his family for generations.

“Bess has been indispensable this past week,” Charov announced, his chest puffing slightly. “She reorganized the entire council meeting schedule and found discrepancies in the northern territory trade agreements that had been overlooked for years.”

Bess flushed. “I just applied the same principles I used at my old job. Organization is organization, whether it’s insurance claims or royal decrees.”

“You’re too modest,” Charov insisted, his eyes intense as he gazed at her. “She’s brilliant, Mother. The advisers who were skeptical are now requesting her input directly.”

Queen Zyre studied Bess with newfound appreciation. “I knew Gerri wouldn’t let us down.”

“The matchmaker has quite the track record,” Bess admitted, and Charov noticed how she sat straighter now, accepting the compliment rather than deflecting it as she might have days ago.

His inner bear growled approvingly. Their mate was growing into her potential right before their eyes.

“Bess,” Charov said suddenly, standing and extending his hand. “Why don’t you explore the gardens while Mother and I discuss some territory matters? The eastern path leads to a waterfall you might enjoy.”

Bess looked between them, then nodded. “I’d like that.”

Once she was out of earshot, Charov turned to his mother. “I need Grandmother’s ring.”

Queen Zyre’s eyes widened before a slow smile spread across her face. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“It’s time,” Charov stated firmly. “She’s proven herself not just to me, but to the territory. And my bear...” He paused, surprised by the intensity of emotion welling up. “My bear knows she’s our true mate.”

His mother rose and walked to an ornate cabinet, removing a hidden panel to reveal a small safe. “Your father would be pleased,” she said softly as she worked the combination. “He saw it in her immediately.”

The small velvet box she placed in his palm carried the weight of generations. Charov opened it, revealing the platinum band with its central blue diamond surrounded by smaller white ones—stones mined from the very mountains visible through the windows.

“She’ll make a fine queen,” Zyre said, touching his arm.

THIRTY

Charov closed his fingers around the box. His bear prowled eagerly beneath his skin, ready to claim what was rightfully theirs. He looked up at his mother, her face a complex tapestry of emotions.

“How are you really doing, Mother?” he asked, his voice deepening with concern. The sunlight streaming through the windows caught the silver threads now prominent in her once purely blonde hair.

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