Chapter 4 Kovrak #2
The comparison hit him like a dagger to the heart, making his tiger roar with offense. But beneath the instinctive reaction lay a terrible recognition—she wasn’t entirely wrong.
“My uncle hired Gerri to find my fated mate,” Kovrak said, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “You are that mate, Faith. Fate doesn’t care about species—it only sees compatibility.”
She stared at him as if he’d spoken in an alien tongue. “Fated mate? I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means—“
“No.” She cut him off, her voice rising. “I didn’t agree to any of this. And now I find out Gerri manipulated me into coming here under false pretenses? That woman is—“
“Don’t blame Gerri.” The words came out sharper than he intended, his protective instincts flaring. “She was doing the job my uncle hired her for, and she did it well. This is my fault because of last year.”
Kovrak dragged his hand through his hair, destroying the careful styling. His composure—twenty years of practiced control—cracked under the weight of potential loss.
“I didn’t ask my uncle to hire her. Merral went behind my back to handle what he saw as my ‘mate problem’ because he was afraid I’d fail again. I’m just as upset about the manipulation as you are.”
Faith’s anger wavered slightly, confusion creeping into her expression. “Then why are you defending it?”
“Because I understand his concerns.” The admission felt like swallowing glass. “This was a last-ditch effort to save my throne. Twenty years of festivals, Faith. Twenty years of failing to secure the future my people need.”
She pressed her palms against her temples. “I feel bad for your situation, I do. But I can’t be what your future is riding on. This is insane and unfair and too much pressure.”
Her voice broke slightly on the last word, and something in Kovrak’s chest shattered.
“I need to leave now,” she whispered.
His tiger raged, demanding he block the door and refuse to let her go. But Kovrak had learned long ago that strength sometimes meant restraint.
Faith swayed slightly, the color draining from her face as the full implications crashed over her. Kovrak moved without thinking, catching her elbow as she stumbled.
“Easy.” His voice gentled as he guided her to the plush armchair near the windows. “Take some deep breaths.”
She collapsed into the chair, her head falling into her hands. Kovrak knelt beside her, close enough to catch her if she fainted but careful not to crowd her.
“If you want to leave,” he said quietly, “I will not stop you.”
The words cost him everything. His tiger howled in protest, demanding he fight for what was his. But Faith needed choice, not coercion. She needed to know she had power in this situation.
Her breathing gradually steadied, some of the sharp edges of her anger softening—not gone, but less jagged.
“I did not sign up to become mated and engaged to a white tiger prince in seven days,” she said finally. “I never would have signed that contract if I’d known.”
“I understand.”
Kovrak shifted tactics, recognizing that pushing the mate bond would only drive her further away. Instead, he reached for the one thing that had genuinely connected them—her craft.
“I was looking forward to watching you work,” he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “To seeing how your mind approaches creation. To tasting something no one on Nova Aurora has ever experienced before.”
Faith lifted her head, studying his face with those sharp brown eyes. “You speak about baking like it’s an art form.”
“Isn’t it?” Kovrak settled back on his heels, giving her space while maintaining their connection. “Innovation. Creativity. The ability to transform simple ingredients into something that brings joy. I admire that kind of vision.”
Something shifted in her expression—surprise, maybe even pleasure.
“Most people think it’s just mixing flour and sugar.”
“Most people are fools.” The conviction in his voice seemed to catch her off guard. “I’ve spent my entire life bound by rigid traditions and expectations. The idea of creating something new, something that’s never existed before...” He trailed off, then met her eyes. “I envy that freedom.”
Faith was quiet for a long moment, processing his words. When she spoke, her voice was softer but still wary.
“I’ve spent years being overlooked, dismissed, or minimized. Having someone see the worth in what I do...” She paused. “That means something.”
Kovrak felt a flicker of hope, careful not to let it show.
“I’m not asking you to save my throne, Faith. I’m saying I want to witness your talent this week. Would you stay so I could see it firsthand?”
She studied his face, searching for deception or manipulation. Whatever she found there seemed to satisfy her, because some of the tension left her shoulders.
“I did enjoy dinner with you last night,” she admitted, the words seeming to cost her. “I feel... something. A spark. But I don’t want to get swept off my feet into some fairy tale romance. I want to work this festival and show your people what I can do.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. There will be no pressure for romance,” he replied softly. “I’ll be a gentleman and treat you well regardless. But you owe me nothing, Faith. If at the end of this week you choose to walk away, I will honor that decision.”
He paused, letting the weight of his promise settle between them.
“The mating decision is not a requirement. It’s a possibility—if you choose it.”
The shift in the air was subtle but crucial. Faith’s shoulders relaxed another degree, and she nodded slowly.
“I’ll stay.”
Relief hit him like a tidal wave, sharp and overwhelming. Kovrak fought to keep his expression neutral, refusing to let her see how close he’d come to begging.
“I’ll give you time to prepare for the ceremony,” he said, rising to his feet with careful control. “Commander Thalen will escort you today so you don’t feel cornered by my presence.”
He moved toward the door before his carefully maintained restraint could crack any further.
“Kovrak.”
He paused at the threshold, not trusting himself to turn around.
“Thank you. For being honest. Finally.”
He nodded once and stepped into the corridor, closing the door behind him with deliberate care. Only then did he allow himself to exhale, the sound shaky with relief and residual terror.
He’d almost lost everything because he’d tried to protect her from the truth instead of trusting her with it.
The lesson carved itself into his consciousness with brutal clarity—Faith was stronger than his fears, braver than his caution.
She deserved honesty, not manipulation wrapped in good intentions.
“Kovrak.”
Merral’s voice cut through his thoughts. His uncle approached with measured steps, his weathered face creased with concern.
“I heard there was a complication.”
Kovrak straightened, falling back into his role as prince and leader. “Faith discovered the full scope of expectations. She nearly left.”
Merral’s expression tightened. “But she stayed.”
“For now.”
They walked toward the gardens in silence for several steps before Merral spoke again.
“Court her in a way that isn’t obvious. Just be yourself. Get to know her. Open up to her.”
Kovrak’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know how to do that.”
The admission felt like failure, but it was true. Twenty years of leadership had taught him strategy, defense, and the careful application of power. But gentleness? Emotional vulnerability? Those were foreign territories he’d never been allowed to explore.
“I know law,” he continued. “I know defense and duty and how to protect people. But I don’t know how to... express myself freely. How to be anything other than what’s expected.”
Merral’s hand settled briefly on his shoulder—a rare gesture of affection from the man who’d raised him.
“Then learn,” his uncle said simply. “Because this week cannot fail.”
As they approached the gardens where his people waited for the ceremony to begin, Kovrak felt the weight of twenty years pressing down on him.
But beneath that familiar burden lay something new—a flicker of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to be both the leader his people needed and the man Faith might choose to stay with.