Chapter 5 Faith
FIVE
FAITH
Faith remained motionless in the plush armchair long after Kovrak left her guest suite.
The silence felt deafening after the intensity of their confrontation—if she could even call it that.
He’d been so controlled, so careful with her anger, giving her space when every instinct probably screamed at him to fight for what he wanted.
Thirty minutes until the opening ceremony starts.
The thought jolted her into motion. She couldn’t sit here drowning in the implications of fated mates and royal expectations. She had a job to do—the only reason she’d agreed to stay.
Professional. You can be professional.
Faith pushed herself up from the chair, her legs unsteady as residual adrenaline coursed through her system. She’d almost run. Actually packed her bag and prepared to walk away from the most lucrative commission of her career because the stakes had suddenly become impossibly personal.
The walk-in closet beckoned like a portal to another world—which, she supposed, it was. Rows of silk and satin hung in perfect order, each piece more elegant than anything she’d ever owned. Liora had assembled a wardrobe fit for royalty, and the irony wasn’t lost on her.
I’m staying for practical reasons, she told herself firmly, running her fingers along the luxurious fabrics. To save the bakery. To honor the contract. To prove I can handle a high-profile commission.
Her hand stilled on a gown of deep royal blue, the color rich and commanding. It felt respectful somehow, diplomatic. Matching the pride’s colors seemed like the right gesture for their cultural guest.
Faith lifted the dress from its hanger, the silk sliding through her fingers like liquid starlight.
Only as she held it up to herself did the realization hit—the shade was identical to the ceremonial jacket Kovrak had worn this morning.
The same deep blue that had made his pale eyes look like winter storms.
“Oh, for crying out loud.”
She stared at her reflection, the dress draped against her body like a declaration she hadn’t intended to make. Would his people think she’d chosen it deliberately? Would they see it as presumptuous, as if she were already claiming her place at his side?
Change it. Pick something else.
But even as the thought formed, Faith found herself stepping into the gown. The silk whispered against her skin as she pulled it up over her curves, the fitted bodice hugging her frame before flowing into an elegant skirt that made her feel like she was floating.
The choice unsettled her in ways she refused to examine too closely. She wouldn’t admit it was instinct, wouldn’t acknowledge that some part of her body might already be aligning with his in ways her mind hadn’t approved.
It’s just a dress. A color. It doesn’t mean anything.
But as she smoothed the silk over her hips, Faith knew she was lying to herself.
Her anger at Gerri bubbled up again as she moved to the vanity, but it lacked the sharp edges from this morning. The fury had cooled into something more complex and more frustrating—understanding.
“Damn her brilliant, manipulative mind,” Faith muttered, reaching for the subtle cosmetics laid out on the marble surface.
If Gerri had told her the truth upfront—that she was being transported across space to secure a king’s throne with her consent—Faith would have refused without hesitation. But Gerri had seen the desperation in her eyes, had recognized a woman drowning in debt and diminishing dreams.
The matchmaker hadn’t lied, exactly. She’d curated the truth and presented it in digestible pieces that wouldn’t send Faith running before she’d even met Kovrak.
And Faith couldn’t even summon clean anger at Merral or Kovrak either.
Merral was protecting political stability, ensuring his nephew’s future and the pride’s continuity.
Kovrak was safeguarding his throne and his people from whatever political adversaries were circling.
Everyone had acted strategically. Everyone had reasons.
Including me, Faith admitted reluctantly as she applied a light dusting of powder to her cheeks. I signed that contract willingly. I needed the money desperately enough to agree to travel to an alien planet with a woman I’d just met.
The complexity left her frustrated because she didn’t have a clear villain to blame. No convenient target for her anger and fear.
She hated that she needed this job. Hated that her bakery’s survival hung on this single commission. Hated that Kovrak needed her in ways that had nothing to do with her skill as a baker.
And she hated most of all that part of her wanted to help him anyway.
Faith caught her reflection’s eye in the mirror, her warm brown gaze sharp with self-awareness. Last night’s dinner replayed in her mind as she reached for the brush, working it through her long brown hair with methodical strokes.
Kovrak had been unexpectedly attentive, genuinely interested in her work as if it mattered.
He’d asked real questions about her techniques, her inspirations, her journey from restaurant baker to business owner.
When she’d talked about her struggles with her ex-boyfriend and mother dismissing her dreams, something had flickered in his ice-blue eyes—understanding, maybe even anger on her behalf.
And when he’d admitted his parents died when he was eight, when he’d spoken quietly about the weight of expectations placed on such young shoulders, her heart had ached for the boy who’d been forced to become a leader before he’d learned how to be himself.
He hadn’t postured or demanded. He’d restrained himself with a control that was both impressive and devastating.
That restraint is dangerous, Faith thought, setting down the brush with more force than necessary.
If he had pressured her this morning, leaving would have been easy. She could have righteously walked away from a demanding, entitled prince who expected her compliance. Instead, he’d given her space, respected her anger, and told her he would understand if she chose to leave.
That considerate behavior complicated everything.
Attraction would be inconvenient enough if he were just handsome and intense—and God, was he both. The way he moved with predatory grace, the way his presence commanded attention without effort, the way his rare smiles transformed his austere features into something breathtaking.
But kindness and care layered over that raw power? That was dangerous territory.
Faith set down her lipstick and met her own gaze in the mirror, forcing herself to acknowledge the thoughts she’d been avoiding.
She didn’t want to be swayed by how intoxicating the queen offer really was.
How being his mate would mean belonging somewhere, having a purpose that extended beyond just surviving month to month.
How it would feel to stand beside someone so powerful and have him look at her like she was precious, protected, and cherished all at once.
She didn’t want to care whether he kept his throne or lost it to whatever political rival was circling. Didn’t want to imagine the consequences if she walked away and left him to face another failed festival.
And I definitely don’t want to admit that I can’t imagine never seeing him again.
But the truth sat heavy in her chest, undeniable despite her best efforts to rationalize it away. She did care what happened to him and she couldn’t imagine never seeing him again.
The sharp rap against her suite door cut through Faith’s spiraling thoughts. She straightened in front of the mirror, smoothing the silk of her gown one final time before crossing to answer.
Commander Thalen Drix stood in the corridor, his imposing frame filling the doorway. His formal uniform was pristine, all sharp lines and military precision, but his expression remained unreadable as his blue eyes assessed her appearance.
“Miss Woodard.” His voice carried the same blunt efficiency she’d noticed yesterday. “I’m here to escort you to the opening ceremony.”
A flutter of disappointment caught her off guard, followed immediately by relief. She’d half-expected—half-hoped—that Kovrak might appear at her door despite his promise to give her space. The absence of his commanding presence both validated his word and left her strangely hollow.
He meant what he said about no pressure, she reminded herself firmly. This is good. Professional.
“Of course.” Faith stepped into the corridor, her heels clicking against the polished stone. “Thank you, Commander.”
As they walked through the palace’s elegant corridors, the distant hum of voices grew steadily louder, transforming from a gentle murmur into something that vibrated through the walls themselves. The sound carried an energy that made her skin prickle with awareness.
“Quite a crowd,” Faith observed, trying to keep her tone light despite the nervous flutter in her chest.
Thalen’s mouth curved into what might have been amusement. “The Festival of Twin Suns draws the entire pride. They’ve been anticipating this week for months.”
Anticipating what, exactly? Faith wondered, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
They emerged from the palace into gardens that stole her breath completely.
Hundreds of people filled the manicured grounds, their clothing a stunning blend of elegance and something indefinably primal.
Rich fabrics caught the light of the twin suns overhead, but there was an underlying intensity in the way people moved and the way they held themselves.
This wasn’t human.
These were white tiger shifters—predators in elegant disguise—and their collective energy hummed with something wild and expectant. They weren’t just festival attendees. They were a kingdom watching their future unfold in real time.
Faith’s pulse quickened as she took in the sea of faces, all turned toward the raised platform where Kovrak would soon appear. The anticipation was thick enough to taste.