The Court of The Shifter King

Chapter One

Girion rarely rode horses, even if many of his men did. Now, everyone in his company was on foot; their massive horses, with their feathered feet as hard as iron and weighty harnesses, were unable to walk on the ice that made up the grounds at the mouth of Tundra Spring.

Even Girion tread carefully in his human form, walking lightly, without his usual fierce stride. If any adversary—by the ice, even an ally—had been in front of him, he would have had a face set like flint, but as he was alone, his face showed an unfamiliar emotion.

Fear.

Tundra Spring, the royal city of Caledon, was named for the singular hot spring that kept the northeast quadrant of the kingdom alive and habitable to non-shifters, as well as made it bearable for visitors from the Spring, Summer, and Fall Kingdoms.

“Blood is thicker than water, and warmer, too. But this...” Girion bent as icy wind sliced through his heavy leather armor and metal breastplate.

His hand reached for the stream that usually flowed freely, tumbling through the unforgiving ice, heedless of the desolation around it, bringing life and warmth to the palace, the cities, and the villages dotted across the snowy landscape.

The stream was a trickle. No clouds of steam rose from it, fogging the air. It was not warm to the touch, certainly not its usual pleasant simmer. It was cold. Almost frozen.

“There is news from as far west as Port Hebron and as far east as Hardspire that the hot springs are cooling and shrinking. Overtaken by ice, Majesty.”

Girion nodded. He had heard Cole approaching, but he didn’t fear his Captain of the Guard, and so stayed kneeling, letting the trickle of water wet his fingers. “When I leave my hand in it, it warms. It spreads. See?”

Cole nodded as he looked. “There is a wee bit of steam, Majesty, but you cannot stand in the springs year-round. I hate to agree with a Fox—”

“There are many good Foxes. King Vultate was a wonderful ally, and I do not give praise lightly.”

“Or at all,” Cole dared to mutter.

“Go on,” Girion snarled, staring at the water, willing it to warm, begging it to flow with silent cries. A good king, especially a shifter king with a lethal beast in his core, must always seem in control.

“I hate to agree with Archduke Reynard, but he may have been right.”

“About the trade delegation needing free lodging? No! They stay for weeks, and I have offered lodging at the palace. If they will not be my guests, I will not ask the inns in the city to empty their coffers by putting up a bunch of dainty Foxes.” Girion looked around.

“That last bit goes no further, Cole. I do not wish to anger any of my Winter brethren when we may soon lose access to the other kingdoms of Wylding.”

“Majesty, not about that—although I agree with you. The Archduke is sly, and he connives, a foolish action if he wishes to end the stereotypes held against Foxes. But he was right that you have not had a mage or sorcerer in the royal family for three generations. If Caledon’s powers are indeed tied to those with royal blood—”

“And they are. And they ever shall be,” Girion whirled to face him, long silver-white hair whipping back as he felt his Bear raging to break free at the perceived challenge to the throne.

“But without a fresh injection of magic into the royal house...”

Girion swallowed, then let out a sharp grunt through his nose.

Marriage. Again.

The topic had come from his parents before their deaths, from his advisors, past and present, and even from that meddling Fox, Reynard. But coming from Cole...

“Cole,” he whispered. “It cannot be marriage that saves us. It cannot be?”

“What is so bad about a maiden loving you and warming your bed, sire?” Cole whispered back, his tone equally urgent.

Love. Warmth. Things a king must not have if he is to lead and not go soft, especially in a place like this. “We are not soft and sweet like the Spring Kingdoms. I cannot afford to go courting and whatnot.”

“You are the king! Can you not simply request that eligible maidens queue up? I think you could. It’s been done before. Or a ball! A ball, Majesty.”

“No. I... I will not have this turn into some grand show for the entertainment of all. I am not even sure that this is the answer. I will consult with the advisors.”

COLE SHOOK HIS HEAD at Girion as he tore through the tundra, heading to Temple Lake, a large body of ice water still on the palace grounds, ringed with a few hardy pines that survived through diligent care and tapping into the royal family’s magic.

“Majesty?” he dared to speak as the enormous white bear shattered the thin skin of ice and then floated on the surface, ripping water plants to shreds.

“Marriage. Marriage, they cry, every one of them. All twelve, and Archduke Reynard was there—offering his ‘help and support,’ of course. Help and support, my fat white bottom!”

Cole came and knelt at the water’s edge. “It is either that or have a bastard.”

Girion let out a bellow, jaws wide.

Cole continued, unrattled. “The laws of the land and our magic state that once your bride bears the royal name, all of Caledon may be nourished by her. You could wait nine months or more to produce an heir illegitimately and pray he or she carries enough of the mother’s magic, or you could wed. That would solve the problem at once.”

“Oh, I’ve considered both options in the last hellish hours,” Girion snarled, disappeared under the water, and came up with a wriggling salmon in his grasp. He bit it in half and swallowed it, bones and all.

“You must be upset. Your stomach’s not going to thank you for that, Majesty.”

“I don’t care.” Girion smoothed a paw over his forehead, blue eyes fierce as he looked at his friend.

One eye bore an elongated diamond scar over its center—a reminder that he would never be unmarked or unsullied again, a reminder that he was in his thirty-fifth year and past his prime for finding a maiden of any sort—in most cases.

“Cole. Reynard has a daughter. He’s a powerful royal, he’s a powerful ally, and he has a daughter.

Renata is rich in magic, and he’s already sent for her.

She will be here in two days’ time, and his suggestions are plain.

She would make an admirable queen. Worse, my advisors’ words were less than veiled.

They agree! I should marry the girl and build a stronger bond between Caledon and Wyndwood. ”

“It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? I mean, she’s a... What is the daughter of an archduke, Majesty?”

“She is Lady Renata, daughter of an Archduke and Archduchess, cousin of the Prince of Wyndwood. Were she not his cousin, I believe Reynard would be pushing her into matrimony with the prince, making him father-in-law and uncle to the King of Wyndwood. But such things are no longer done. Now, he pushes her into my arms, and yet again... the father-in-law of a king.”

Cole was silent as Girion dove and splashed, then continued to speak when he came up for air as if nothing had interrupted.

“I don’t trust this. Even if the marriage were to be a most beneficial alliance, and even if she is rich in magic, a queen, they say, wields incredible power over her king.

” Girion paused. Someone who you would bed, who would see you naked and vulnerable, able to smother you in your sleep, poison you with a kiss, slip a knife in your heart in a private moment.

A danger. And if she were not a murderer, but warm and loving, sweet and yielding as could be—you would have to protect them, keep them safe at all costs, all while losing your heart and soul to their love a little more each day.

And if she were to carry your child. My children. ..

“Majesty! Are you all right?”

He was transforming, shedding fur and fat, leaving him standing naked and shivering in human form in the middle of the freezing water.

He rushed out, grabbing his furs and leathers.

“How do men sleep at night if they do not trust their wives? What if I should marry Renata but not give in to her father’s wishes?

Would she curse our child out of spite? Would she ingest some potion to kill it before it drew breath? ”

“Steady on, sire! These are most outlandish thoughts.”

Girion was silent, but his damaged eye suddenly throbbed. “They are not so outlandish as you think.”

“Well. To reject her out of hand would surely create bad blood between Caledon and Wyndwood. You will at least meet her?”

“I will meet her. Perhaps I am wrong about Reynard’s motives. Perhaps she is exactly what we need.”

“What you need, sire?” Cole dared to correct.

Girion grabbed his arm, voice low and dangerous.

“I need nothing and no one. My kingdom might be a different matter. Just in case—I want you, Cole, to travel to the little villages, to the small towns, all around the coast. Find out if there are any maidens with magic in their veins who might be what I need.”

“Beauteous and skilled?”

“Skilled and in need of an alliance. Something we can exchange and barter for, so she will be in my debt and I in hers, but not so much in her power. I will not admit that I need a bride lest rivals hear of it. It is bad enough that Reynard knows. And if he should spread word out of spite if I do not choose his daughter...”

Cole nodded, eyes serious. “I will leave tonight, Majesty.”