Page 6 of Furever Loyal
You’d better get used to it. House Ursa needs mates, and if they proclaim you as Hunter, which it looks like they’re going to, then you’d better start hunting them up some mates.
That was his job. Help track down the mates of those who lacked them. Of course, he couldn’t just go searching, he had to wait for the magic he would be imbued with to show him the way, something over which he had no control.
Fucking magic.
“In closing,” the Queen said, grabbing his attention. “Let me reiterate that in all ways that matter, Kincaid is an excellent candidate. We must stand as one in these tough times. Having a Hunter in place once more will ensure the continued success of House Ursa for years to come. Although he is not mated, he has proven himself time and again to be strong enough, most recently in his takedown of the rogue mage Samuel Girard. Are there any that would challenge this nomination?”
Kincaid didn’t hold his breath. He fully expected there to be a challenger. Although the traitors had been defeated, there was still division within the ranks, and until the Queen could unite the various factions, someone would always speak up. Then he would engage in ritual combat—though he would still very much have to win—and the position would be his.
There was a rustle off to his left as a figure stepped forward. “I challenge that Kincaid is unfit to lead, that his strength is insufficient for the duties that will be required of him. I nominate myself.”
The Queen nodded. “Very well, Krawll. Let the challenge proceed.”
He eyed up his opponent. Krawll was a well-known minor power player in the House. He operated mostly in the southwestern part of the continent, providing a steady and not-insignificant amount of revenue for Ursa, though he was by no means crucial to their success.
Two of the Queen’s guards stepped forward and offered daggers to both men. The trial would be to first blood. If Kincaid won, he would then be confirmed to the position by the Queen and it would be over. If Krawll was victorious, then he suspected another challenger would step forward, and it would begin again.
Forcing everything but his opponent out of his mind, Kincaid circled his foe, forcing himself to mind his surroundings. They were in the Throne Room at the foot of the stone dais that held seats for each of the Title Holders. Many stood empty, still unfilled. That meant the space to maneuver was limited. He would have to work in the confined space.
Krawll lunged at him and he spun away, the dagger missing by mere inches. Spectators gasped, but Kincaid knew he’d never been in any real danger. Holding up his own weapon, he waggled it back and forth, taunting his opponent. He watched as the massive forehead vein that was Krawll’s defining feature grew darker and pulsed with his anger.
Good. Goooood. Let the hate flow through you.
He would use that to his advantage.
The pair danced around some more. Kincaid darted in, but Krawll floated just out of range. Then he abruptly reversed direction and came back in, his dagger aimed at Kincaid’s throat. Not expecting the strike at such a lethal location, he dropped down, rolling in the direction of the strike, trying to cover his surprise.
Krawll had just tried to kill him.
He slashed out with the dagger to keep his opponent at bay. The combat had just gone from first blood to trying to stay alive. What the hell had gotten into the man?
Kincaid got up, darted forward, slashing twice with his knife, trying to score a cut and end the fight before things got out of hand. He missed, and Krawll struck back, aiming for his neck, then his gut, and with a spinning maneuver, the inside of his leg. All spots where a cut just a little too deep would open an artery, and even a shifter’s healing would be hard pressed to save them.
Especially if they struck as hard as Krawll was trying to. He would be dead in seconds before anyone could stop the bleeding and come to his aid.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed as they spun by each other, barely missing with cuts.
Krawll just bared his teeth and came back at him. Kincaid was getting tired of the games. When his apparently crazed opponent tried to slip his blade up between Kirell’s ribs and into his heart, he decided it was time to end it. He came at Krawll hard and fast. The flurry of strikes was expected, and they moved past one another, turning out of range.
For a split second, both had their backs to one another. Kirell took a breath, having paid closed attention to Krawll’s momentum as they went, and flicked his wrist backward, letting go of the dagger.
It swirled across the distance, bounced off Krawll, and clattered onto the ground.
The tip was covered in red blood.
For a second, he thought Krawll was going to come back at him and try to kill him, but the Queen snapped her fingers and her guards darted between the two of them. A quick glance showed she too had noticed Krawll’s attempts to land a mortal strike, instead of simply cutting the skin. Although it wasn’t against the rules—peoplehaddied in the challenge before—it was highly frowned upon.
The Queen lifted her chin to speak to the assembled crowd, but before she could, a guard opened the main doors leading to the Grand Hallway. Everyone went silent as a human woman entered the Throne Room, grabbing nervously at her pencil skirt’s hemline, the cuffs of her blouse and just about anything else she could fidget with.
Kincaid noticed those details but quickly ignored them. He was awestruck by the woman’s beauty. The rounded curve of her chin as it rose up into wide cheeks that looked like they should be infused with laughter but lacked the indicator lines. Eyes of solid hazel darted furiously around the room, indicative of her nerves.
Kincaid decided then and there—as he took in her tiny pointed nose and beautiful chestnut hair as it rustled against her shoulders—that he had never before seen anyone so beautiful, and never would again.
I must know her name. Why is she here?
He glanced at his Queen, reluctant to remove his gaze, but hoping she would take pity on him and provide him with the identity of the mysterious siren.
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