Chapter 22
Each accompanied by two of their three mates, Ursula and Carmen went to the village of Fangrys to set up for the following day’s events.
Armed with printed diagrams and lists and pens and a coterie of female volunteers accompanied by their mates, brothers, or fathers, Ursula set everyone to work.
She gave diagrams and signs to those who would be marking assigned spaces around the village’s central square.
She assigned several males to build a temporary stage at the far end of a side street, which the sheriff agreed to barricade against vehicular traffic.
Other village streets were also barricaded.
She checked in with each vendor to ensure they found their assigned spaces and received any assistance as needed.
Bran and Zul shook their heads at the barely controlled chaos of event organization.
“There’s a lot more that goes into planning a party than I guessed,” Carmen quipped after she finished helping a local vendor set up his market stall, much to that male’s nearly gibbering horror.
The Omari Prime chuckled while keeping a close watch over his mate and offering the merchant a word of reassurance that human hybrids were less docile than other hybrid females.
“It’s not just a party,” Ursula explained. “It’s a market combined with a roster of performances. There are a lot of moving parts to align so everything goes off smoothly.” A crash resounded, and she winced. “And it never goes smoothly.”
With a quick smile, she headed off to see what had happened and to rectify the problem. Zul rushed after her, ready to lend a muscular arm, a skilled hand, or a stern glare. Bran looked at Pako and shrugged.
“The things we do to keep our mates happy.”
Pako grinned and glanced at Carmen who was already haggling with a vendor to buy something at a discount. That vendor sent a pleading glance at the Omari Prime for help. “I’d better rescue that poor male, or he’ll find my mate has robbed him of everything valuable.”
“And your finances much depleted anyway,” Bran murmured.
Pako laughed and headed off to save the flustered merchant.
“My Lord cen’Vyr,” someone hailed.
The Fangrys Prime turned to face the mayor. “What is it?”
The male paused in his approach, then found his courage and continued walking toward the Fangrys Prime until he stopped at a respectable three large steps from the lord of the region. He took a deep breath and said, “I have received complaints from several males.”
“About what?” Bran inquired, his tail slowly swishing.
The mayor’s own tail curled. “The females are giving them orders!”
“Would those males know what to do if the females in charge of the festival did not tell them?” Bran asked, keeping his tone reasonable.
“It is unseemly for a female to tell a male what to do!”
“Ah, it seems they would not,” Bran concluded. He took a step toward the mayor, and the mayor scrambled backward to remain the respectful distance just beyond the reach of Bran’s heavily muscled arm and sharp claws.
“No good will come of this violation of the natural order,” the mayor threatened.
Bran glanced at the busy people surrounding them, listening to chatter and laughter and even some off-key singing. He saw a handful of children running about on errands or just chasing each other for fun. “I see nothing untoward.”
“You give your mate too much lenience. You are too permissive with her.”
Bran’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, angling his long, sharply pointed horns toward the mayor. “My mate is none of your concern.”
The mayor huffed. “It will be when she disgraces you with her loose behavior.”
“Loose?” Bran echoed in astonishment. Then he laughed. “If there is anything—anything at all—of which I am certain, it is my mate’s fidelity.”
“No male can be certain of that.”
“Do you not share your mind with your mate?”
The mayor was appalled. “And weaken my intellect by sharing a female’s imbecility?” He stiffened his spine and puffed his chest. “This explains your woeful permissiveness with the Prima.”
Bran drew himself to his full height. The bright sunshine gleaming against his golden hide made him appear regal and intimidating, reminding all who saw him as to why he was a warrior triad’s prime. “Mayor, present yourself, your mate, and your dyad bond to me the day following the festival.”
Thinking he had impressed the Fangrys Prime, the mayor bowed and took his leave, although he had not gotten the immediate concession of the Fangrys Triad controlling their wayward, insolent mate as he had hoped.
Perhaps arrangements had gone too far to disrupt them right then, and the Fangrys Prime would take his mate in hand following the festival, as was proper.
Bran, surmising the mayor’s conjecture, said nothing to correct him.
Doing so in public would shame that male who, perhaps, did not quite deserve such harsh treatment.
He planned to set his lovely mate to speaking with the mayor’s mate to discern whether that female was being mistreated.
If so, public humiliation would be the least of the mayor’s worries.
He turned around to join Ursula and Zul, but they were already headed back toward him. He met them halfway and asked, “What else is there to be done?”
“I’ve got to stick around for a while longer,” Ursula said. “Some vendors are coming in from out of town to set up, and I should be here when they arrive.”
“She has established a deadline for setup today,” Zul explained, resting a hand lightly on Ursula’s shoulder. “I will stay to protect her if you wish to return home.”
Bran gave him a small smile, mouth closed so as not to reveal any pointed teeth. “No, Zul, I think it sends a necessary message if we are both here.”
“Lending my little festival your royal consequence?” Ursula remarked.
“Something like that,” Bran replied. “If you thought the mayor was disappointed that you were actually allowed to organize something more complicated than a dinner, then you would not believe how outraged he is to see that you have actually been allowed a position of authority.”
“Allowed?” she parroted, eyebrows rising.
“His word, not mine.”
Ursula snorted. “No, I think that’s your word. Regardless, this is what I do, and I’m damned good at it.”
Zul nodded. “Yes, she is.”
“I know. Her competence impressed me at the embassy gala where we met.”
Ursula chuckled. “I thought it was my singing.”
“That, too.” Bran traced the back of a knuckle down her cheek. “And your beauty and your fierce defense of your friend.”
“I was the whole package, huh?”
Zul looked confused.
“Everything and more,” Bran said. “I have not regretted claiming you, and I never will.”
“No matter how much blame you catch for allowing me too much freedom?”
“Everything Gil, Zul, and I do is in the best interests of you and Crow. We want nothing more than your happiness.”
Ursula smiled and threw herself at her mate. Bran rocked when she collided with him, but did not move. She wrapped her arms around his brawny body and hugged him tightly. Bran closed his arms around her, careful not to squeeze her too snugly.
Zul set a ruddy hand on her hip and gave her a light squeeze. “You are precious to each of us. We would die before allowing any harm to come to you.”
Face pressed against Bran’s chest, she said, “I was beginning to worry that I was in trouble. That the mayor had convinced you I’d brought shame upon you.”
Bran stroked a hand down her long white hair. “You caught my emotion, elska’adir? Fear not. I am never angry with you.”
He met Zul’s eyes over her head.
She was worried, Zul said, mind to mind.
Bran cast him a knowing look. As much as our lovely mate wishes to be independent, she needs us. She needs our support and approval.
It must be difficult for her to reconcile both her need for independence and her need for us, Zul replied.
She struggles with it, Bran acknowledged. We try to ease that struggle. Part of that means reminding her of her importance to us: she is more than a breeder for the next generation.
She is precious to us, necessary for our very souls.
Indeed.