Chapter 3 Faith
THREE
FAITH
Prince Kovrak’s retreat struck Faith like a slap—too swift and too controlled, like a man fleeing something that might bite back. The massive foyer suddenly felt cavernous around her, all vaulted stone and echoing silence, while her pulse hammered against her throat with stubborn persistence.
Her palm still tingled where his skin had touched hers.
That handshake had been nothing like the polite greeting she’d expected.
It had felt like lightning finding ground—a shock of recognition that traveled up her arm and settled somewhere deep in her chest, humming with electric possibility.
Her body had responded before her brain could catch up, every nerve ending suddenly alive and aware in ways that made no rational sense.
Impossible.
Faith forced herself to breathe evenly, searching for logical explanations.
New planet. Alien atmosphere. Royal intimidation factor.
She was a small-town baker standing in a palace that cost more than her entire neighborhood, meeting actual royalty for the first time.
Of course her nervous system was firing on all cylinders.
But that didn’t explain the way Prince Kovrak’s pale blue eyes had locked onto hers with laser focus, or how his presence had felt like standing too close to a barely contained storm.
He hadn’t just been handsome—though the sharp angles of his face and that perfectly trimmed goatee certainly didn’t hurt.
He’d been magnetic in a way that made her feel simultaneously assessed and desired, like he could see straight through her careful composure to something she didn’t even know existed.
The memory of his voice—deep, controlled, with an edge of roughness that suggested hidden depths—sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
Focus, Faith. You’re here to bake desserts and collect a paycheck. Not to melt because a prince has a jawline carved by the gods.
“Fascinating,” Gerri murmured, her eyes sparkling with what looked suspiciously like triumph. “Absolutely fascinating.”
Merral stepped forward with the kind of gentle authority that suggested he’d spent decades managing delicate situations. His pale eyes held thoughtful assessment as they swept over Faith’s face, cataloging reactions she wasn’t sure she wanted analyzed.
“The journey was disorienting, I’m sure,” he said smoothly. “You should have time to settle in before dinner.”
“Dinner?” The word escaped sharper than intended, alarm bleeding through her carefully maintained composure.
“With my nephew Prince Kovrak,” Merral confirmed, as if discussing the weather. “A private meal to become better acquainted.”
Private. Better acquainted. Heat crawled up Faith’s neck as the implications settled.
Of course—she was supposed to be his public companion for the week.
They’d need to establish some kind of rapport before appearing together at royal events.
This was business. Professional networking with a side of cultural exchange.
So why did the prospect of sitting across a dinner table from those ice-blue eyes make her stomach flip like she was sixteen again?
Faith straightened her shoulders and summoned her most professional smile. “That sounds lovely.”
She was not some swooning tourist. She ran a business, negotiated supplier contracts, and had spent years proving she could handle whatever life threw at her. One intense prince with excellent bone structure was hardly going to derail her now.
Probably.
Merral gestured toward the sweeping staircase that curved up into the palace’s upper levels. “Shall we?”
The corridors they walked through felt alive with history—pale stone veined with silver, tall windows that caught the dying light of twin suns and threw it in dancing patterns across the floors.
Banners in royal blue and silver shifted lazily in cross-breezes that carried scents of something floral and exotic.
But it was the paintings that made Faith’s steps slow.
Tigers. Dozens of them lining the walls in massive gilded frames.
White tigers with distinctive black striping, captured in oils that made their pale blue eyes seem to follow her movement.
Some showed solitary beasts in jungle settings.
Others depicted what looked like battle scenes, with tigers fighting alongside armored warriors.
A few portrayed more domestic scenes—tigers lounging in palace gardens or walking beside robed figures.
“Symbolic?” Faith asked, nodding toward a particularly striking portrait of a massive white tiger standing on a cliff overlooking the palace.
“Heritage,” Merral replied simply, but something in his tone suggested layers she wasn’t catching.
Within minutes, her suite doors opened to reveal luxury that belonged in magazines rather than reality.
Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, draped with gauzy curtains that shifted like captured clouds.
A massive balcony overlooked the twin suns as they painted the horizon in shades of gold and orange.
Everything was elegant without being ostentatious—comfort elevated to art.
“Welcome!”
Faith turned to find a young woman bouncing on her toes near the sitting area, her bright blue eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. She was petite and energetic, with black hair that fell in loose waves and expressive hands that moved as she talked.
“I’m Liora, your attendant for the week.”
Attendant. Faith barely managed not to laugh. The absurdity of having a personal attendant when she’d been washing her own dishes and balancing her own books just hours ago struck her as surreal.
“Liora will be your guide to Nova Aurora,” Gerri explained, her designer heels clicking across the polished floor. “Someone to answer questions about the festival, palace customs, and the unique people here.”
Unique people. Faith filed that away as another diplomatic euphemism for whatever made this planet different from Earth. Enhanced humans, maybe. Or particularly formal alien cultures with complex social hierarchies.
Merral and Gerri began their retreat—Merral with dignified efficiency, Gerri with a wink that felt loaded with secrets Faith wasn’t sure she wanted to uncover.
“What did she mean by unique?” Faith asked once they were alone.
Liora’s hesitation lasted exactly one heartbeat before her bright smile returned. “Most of us here are shifters.”
“Shifters,” Faith repeated slowly.
“Yes! White tiger shifters, specifically. Especially the royal line.” Liora’s enthusiasm was infectious, completely at odds with the earth-tilting revelation she’d just delivered. “Prince Kovrak’s lineage is one of the strongest.”
The room seemed to tilt sideways.
Actual, literal, turn-into-tigers shifters. Faith’s gaze snapped back to the tiger paintings lining the corridors, understanding crashing over her. Not symbolic. Not heritage in the abstract sense.
Family portraits.
That explained the predatory stillness she’d sensed in Kovrak. The way his pale blue eyes had seemed to see straight through her. The electric charge that had shot through her when their skin touched—her body recognizing something wild and dangerous even when her mind had no context for it.
Gerri absolutely knew I would have balked at this detail.
“Faith?” Liora’s voice carried gentle concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Faith managed, though her voice sounded distant to her own ears. “Just... processing.”
Liora moved toward what Faith had assumed was a closet door, but when it opened, it revealed a walk-in space the size of her entire bedroom back home.
Racks of clothing lined the walls in perfect organization—silk blouses, structured gowns, cocktail dresses in every color imaginable.
Heels arranged by height. Jewelry displayed like museum pieces.
All in her size.
“How did you know my measurements?” Faith asked weakly.
“Gerri provided them in advance,” Liora said cheerfully, running her hands over a midnight-blue cocktail dress with obvious appreciation. “We’re quite efficient here.”
Efficient. Faith glanced at her pathetic suitcase sitting by the door—packed for a week-long business trip, not a royal court populated by tiger shifters. She’d brought chef coats, comfortable shoes, and exactly two dresses that now seemed laughably inadequate.
“I was thinking this one for dinner,” Liora suggested, holding up the midnight dress. “The color would be stunning on you.”
Faith stared at her t-shirt and jeans. Right. Probably not appropriate for dining with royalty. Especially royalty who could turn into apex predators.
“I’ll let you get settled,” Liora said, hanging the dress on a hook near the mirror. “But I’ll be back tomorrow morning to help you prepare for the week. Go over the details of the events and the expectations.”
Expectations. Because apparently baking desserts and being arm candy wasn’t complicated enough—now she had to navigate actual palace politics while pretending she wasn’t completely out of her depth.
Alone in the suite, Faith sank onto the edge of the massive bed and tried to process the last hour of her life.
This morning she’d been a struggling baker in New Jersey, worried about lease payments and dwindling customers.
Now she was sitting in an alien palace, preparing to have dinner with a prince who could literally turn into a white tiger.
Minutes passed before Faith could summon the will to move. The enormity of her situation pressed down like physical weight—tiger shifters, royal politics, and a prince whose touch had sent electricity coursing through her veins.
Get it together, Woodard. You’ve handled worse.
Though honestly, she wasn’t sure she had.