Chapter 16 Kovrak
SIXTEEN
KOVRAK
Kovrak had commanded an army of white tiger warriors and defended his Auryx territory decisively these past twenty years, had felt the surge of triumph after countless victories that left his enemies bloodied and his pride roaring with celebration—yet nothing compared to the quiet, luminous contentment of lying beside his newly marked mate while the completed bond hummed like a living current between their souls.
The warmth pulsed steadily beneath his skin, a rhythm that matched Faith’s heartbeat where she’d rested against his chest, and he could still hear the echo of her breathless words: I’m ready.
Ready for his mark. Ready for him. Ready for forever.
After three days of tending her burns and sprained ankle with careful hands and offering every guarded truth he’d hoarded for decades, he had steeled himself to wait patiently for her choice—to give her whatever time she required to accept the mate bond.
Instead, she had chosen him and the bond without hesitation over breakfast, her brown eyes clear and certain as she’d spoken the words that rewrote his entire existence.
When he mentioned the necessity of informing the council elders, he’d assumed she would accompany him—his mate and future queen walking at his side as tradition required. But Faith surprised him again with that fierce independence that made his tiger purr with approval.
“I need to start on the final festival dessert immediately.” She slipped from beneath the silk sheets, her movements urgent with creative fire. “This has to be perfect, Kovrak. It’s not just dessert—it’s a symbol. Our offering to the people. Fire and sweetness braided together, remember?”
Her eyes blazed with the same intensity he’d witnessed in the palace kitchens, and he understood completely.
“Then create something worthy of us,” he said, rising to meet her across the room. His hands found her waist, drawing her close enough to breathe in the scent of lilac and determination that clung to her skin. “I would never stand between you and your craft.”
The kiss he pressed to her lips carried gratitude as much as possession—reverence for the woman who had chosen him freely. The mate bond thrummed warmly between them as she pulled away and reached for her bathrobe.
“I’ll dress quickly in my suite and head straight to the kitchen,” she said, tying the belt with efficient movements. “Don’t hold lunch for me if I lose track of time.”
“Faith,” he started to argue. When she turned, her eyebrows raised in question, he allowed his expression to soften. “You are truly incredible.”
The smile that bloomed across her face was radiant enough to power the twin suns. Then she was gone, her presence trailing like captured sunlight in her wake, and he stood motionless in the sudden quiet, marveling that this brilliant, determined woman belonged to him now.
Mine. My future queen. Forever.
Kovrak moved toward the massive marble bathroom.
The shower beckoned—a necessity before facing the council, before announcing to his pride that their future queen was marked today.
Cold water would focus him and cool the fire that still burned beneath his skin whenever he thought of the way she’d taken control, and the perfect moment when his mark had sealed their bond.
He turned on the shower and stepped under the cascade, hissing as the frigid water struck his heated flesh. The shock was welcome—grounding him, forcing his mind to function beyond the haze of satisfaction and disbelief.
She actually chose me.
The thought circled endlessly as he scrubbed soap across his body, washing away the scent of sex and completion.
Even under the punishing cold, happiness pressed against his ribs until it felt almost unbearable.
His tiger didn’t know how to process joy this profound—twenty years of failure and political maneuvering had prepared them for conflict, not contentment.
As he washed his hair, his thoughts shifted to the upcoming proposal. Two days remained before tradition demanded he propose formally, before he could officially claim her as his queen. The act would solidify what the mark had begun, would announce to his pride that their future was secure.
But how to ask? The question nagged at him as he rinsed shampoo from his hair. He could do it publicly—before the entire pride during the final feast, claiming her in a display of unity that would silence any remaining doubts about her worthiness. The political advantage was undeniable.
Yet something in him rebelled at the idea. Faith deserved romance, not spectacle. She deserved a moment that honored the woman she was, not just the crown she would wear.
The gardens called to him—the ancient clearing where they’d first made love under twin moons, where night-blooming flowers released their intoxicating perfume into darkness.
Private. Sacred. A place where he could kneel before her without an audience, where his proposal could be about them rather than the kingdom watching.
He shut off the water and reached for a towel, his mind already mapping possibilities. Whatever form it took, the moment would be worthy of her—worthy of the courage it had taken to choose him, to bind her dreams to his and trust him with her heart.
Two days to plan. Two days to craft a proposal that would make her eyes shine the way they had this morning when they’d completed their bond.
Kovrak dried himself with efficient movements and strode toward his wardrobe, anticipation thrumming through his veins. The council could wait a few more minutes. He needed to dress properly for the announcement that would change their entire kingdom.
The royal blue fabric of his formal shirt felt like armor as Kovrak adjusted the silver-threaded cuffs, his reflection in the polished mirror showing a man transformed by more than fine clothing.
The mate bond hummed beneath his skin—steady, warm, and undeniably real.
Faith was his. The knowledge still felt too precious to trust completely, too perfect after twenty years of disappointment.
He fastened the last button and smoothed the gray trousers that bore the subtle threading of their royal colors.
Today would mark the beginning of their official future, the moment when private joy became public triumph.
The council needed to hear the news directly from him, needed to understand that their kingdom’s stability was finally within reach.
The corridors of the palace’s lower level echoed with his purposeful footsteps as he sought out Thalen and Merral. He found them in the strategy room, bent over maps and supply reports, their conversation dying the moment he appeared in the doorway.
“I need you both to accompany me to the council hall,” Kovrak announced without preamble. “There’s news to share.”
Thalen straightened immediately, his commander’s instincts reading the gravity in Kovrak’s tone. “What kind of news?”
“The kind that changes kingdoms.” Kovrak’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but carried unmistakable satisfaction. “Faith has accepted my mate mark. The bond is complete.”
The silence that followed lasted exactly three heartbeats before Merral’s weathered face broke into the first genuine smile Kovrak had seen from his uncle in years.
“By the twin suns,” the older man breathed, rising from his chair with more energy than his age should have allowed. “Twenty years of waiting, and she chose you freely?”
“This morning,” Kovrak confirmed, the pride in his voice impossible to suppress. “I’ll be proposing formally in two days, but the political foundation is already set. The council needs to know immediately.”
Thalen clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to stagger a lesser man. “About damned time. The kingdom’s been holding its breath so long I was starting to worry we’d all suffocate.”
Their genuine delight warmed something deep in Kovrak’s chest. These men had stood by him through every failed festival and every whispered doubt about his ability to secure their future. Their joy felt like vindication and relief braided together.
But as they moved toward the transport bay, Thalen’s expression darkened. “There’s something you need to know before we face the council.”
Kovrak’s steps slowed. “What is it?”
“Varrek’s been making noise again.” Thalen’s voice carried the flat tone he used for delivering unpleasant tactical assessments. “The fire and wolf attack failure didn’t deter him. If anything, it seems to have made him more desperate.”
The warmth in Kovrak’s chest crystallized into something harder. “Explain.”
“He’s been talking to pride members,” Merral added, his earlier joy fading into grim concern. “Bragging about plans to challenge you publicly on the final day of the festival, regardless of any mating or proposal.”
Kovrak’s jaw tightened until the muscle jumped. The sacred moment he’d been planning—kneeling before Faith in the ancient gardens, offering her a crown and his heart—threatened to dissolve into political theater orchestrated by a man who couldn’t accept defeat gracefully.
“He’s always favored brute strength over diplomacy,” Kovrak said, his voice dropping to the dangerous quiet his enemies had learned to fear. “But I refuse to govern through intimidation. This kingdom deserves better than rule by fear.”
They climbed into the transport in tense silence, the vehicle’s hum doing nothing to ease the knot of anger building in Kovrak’s chest. Varrek had clearly orchestrated the attack that nearly killed Faith, had used innocent pride members as pawns in his ambition, and now planned to corrupt the most important moment of Kovrak’s life with public spectacle and challenge.
The ride to town passed without conversation, Kovrak’s thoughts too dark and furious for casual exchange. By the time they reached the council hall, his control had settled back into its familiar rigid lines, but the rage simmered just beneath the surface.
The council chamber fell silent as he entered, twelve pairs of eyes turning toward him with curious attention. Elder Corwin rose from his position at the head of the curved table, his expression confused but welcoming.
“Your Highness. We weren’t expecting you today.”
“Plans change,” Kovrak replied, moving to stand before them with the bearing of a man about to reshape their world. “I come with news that affects our kingdom’s entire future.”
He didn’t waste time with preamble or political niceties. “This morning, Faith Woodard accepted my mate mark. The bond between us is complete, and I intend to propose formally in two days’ time. I seek your blessing for the union.”
The silence stretched long enough for surprise to register on every face before Elder Corwin’s weathered features broke into a broad smile.
“By the ancestors,” he breathed. “She chose to stay? To accept the crown?”
“She chose me,” Kovrak corrected, the distinction important. “Her courage during the fire proved her devotion to our people. I can think of no one more worthy to stand beside me as queen.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table. Elder Lyanna leaned forward, her sharp eyes bright with approval.
“The girl has steel in her spine,” she declared. “Any woman who’ll run into burning buildings to save our children has my vote.”
The blessing came swiftly, voices rising in unanimous support that sent relief washing through Kovrak like a breaking wave. Twenty years of careful balance and diplomatic patience, and the final hurdle had fallen with surprising ease.
For one perfect moment, everything aligned exactly as it should. His mate was marked and willing. His council supported their union. His kingdom’s future stretched ahead, stable and bright.
Then the warmth beneath his skin—the steady pulse of contentment he’d been savoring—constricted into something sharp and urgent.
Fear.
Quick, tight, and unmistakable. And not his own.
The sensation slammed through the mate bond with enough force to steal his breath, Faith’s terror bleeding into his awareness like ice water in his veins. She was supposed to be safe in the palace kitchens, surrounded by guards and walls, creating her masterpiece for the final feast.
Instead, the bond screamed that something was catastrophically wrong.
“Transport. Now.” The command cracked through the air as he spun toward Thalen, his voice already hardening into the tone that sent armies into motion. “Back to the palace. Immediately.”
“What’s wrong?” Thalen was already moving, his hand instinctively checking the weapon at his side.
“Faith.” Kovrak’s pulse hammered against his throat as he reached out through the bond, pushing his thoughts toward her with desperate intensity.
Faith, what is wrong?
Silence. The telepathic connection that should have carried her voice back to him remained empty, muffled, as though something was deliberately blocking their link.
The mate bond was dimming.
That alone sent fury through his veins. A dimming bond meant unconsciousness, severe injury, or worse—something actively suppressing her ability to reach him.
They ran for the transport as Elder Corwin’s voice followed them, demanding explanations that Kovrak didn’t have time to give. The vehicle soon roared to life beneath Thalen’s hands, tires screaming against stone as they tore through the town streets toward the palace.
Faith. He reached for her again, pouring every ounce of will into the connection. Answer me.
Nothing. The bond pulsed weak and distant, like a candle flame guttering in a storm.
“Drive faster,” he snarled, his claws extending involuntarily as the tiger beneath his skin began to pace. Whatever was happening to his mate, whatever enemy had dared to touch her while she was under his protection, they would pay in blood.
The perfect day was dissolving into a nightmare, and the only thing that mattered now was reaching her before it was too late.