Falling in Love with the King of Beasts

ELIA

He couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. He couldn't be. Elia's heart raced and she stared at her husband, her mate, who was watching her like he wasn't quite sure whether to answer. "Reth," she snapped. "What the hell are you talking about? When did you see me? When was I happy?"

"Why are you angry, Elia?"

"Why—because you're telling me that you saw me, but didn't talk to me. That you just… assumed things about my life without asking me. And that we could have… this might have… you're saying we had a chance before! And you just… gave up? Reth, tell me, please! When did this happen? Why didn't you talk to me? How the hell did you decide that I was already with someone else—I was a virgin! Who did you think—"

He raised his hands, his face down, "Just… one at a time, please, Elia. Let me… let me tell you the story and if you're still angry at the end, well, I guess we'll deal with it then," he said, pulling himself back up onto the sleeping platform to sit next to her, facing the door.

"I was seventeen by your years, I think, when my father became ill and started talking to me about challenging for the throne."

"Challenging?"

"There are two ways to take the throne—if the ruler dies the heir can step in and then be challenged for it. But many heirs step in with great support from the people, so are never challenged.

"If the ruler is still alive, however, someone—anyone, including the heir—can challenge the ruler for dominance. Win the throne. That was how my father wanted me to take it."

"What? Why?"

"Because the people had been through war and upheaval and then we were in a time of peace. He knew if I would be welcomed by the people, they wouldn't challenge me."

"And that's bad because?"

"Because later, if things got difficult again, if there was dissension, or war, those who felt insecure would remember that I had taken the throne without ever having to fight and prove myself. They wouldn't have evidence of my strength. They wouldn't trust me—or might challenge me thinking me weak. My father didn't want me to be challenged later, at the worst possible time—when there was already something else going wrong. As he had been. When he'd been forced to send me to your world. So as soon as he knew he wouldn't recover from his illness he started talking to me about challenging him while he was still strong, so that I would be seen as the King in truth—and he could die in peace, knowing it." He swallowed and Elia took his hand. She was still tense, still baffled to know that he'd come for her, then left—why? But… she didn't like seeing him in pain, and clearly, talking about his father dying made him hurt.

"At first I refused to talk to him about it. Refused to believe he was really dying. Then, even after I'd accepted that, I refused to fight him. He became… very angry. He was giving me good advice and I was refusing to take it. It was a very tense time between us."

"What happened?"

"My mother started talking to me about ruling, about the responsibility of a King—and how his decisions must always, first and foremost, be for the good of his people. I thought it was just a political discussion—my life had been peppered by them since I was small. But soon it became clear she was… aiming for something. She started to talk about how the King carried the people with him, in his skin. His bones. And that to die as King without certainty around who would take your place… fearing that someone might succeed you who wasn't good for the people… that was torment. She was telling me that my father wasn't just trying to set me up to rule. That he was trying to protect his people from being ruled by someone else.

"But my mother… she was aware of more than the need for a solid ruler. She knew when I ascended the throne, I would stand alone. And that worried her. I had mated with females, but I hadn't found a true mate—my heart's match. I hadn't even been interested deeply by any of them, and she worried. She knew the life of a King was, by necessity, isolated. She said I needed a partner, someone who I could be myself with completely. Someone who would support me even when they were angry with me—she warned me that they would get angry. A lot. She emphasized that." He smiled sadly. "And she asked me who I knew, which females I'd known in my life that made me feel safe like that. Certain of myself. Comfortable. And… I immediately thought of you, Elia," he said. Then turned and met her eyes.

She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat.

He turned away. "It was strange. It wasn't that I'd never thought of you before—I'd always thought of you with that nostalgia. That sense of a childhood loss. I'd always wondered what happened to you and who you had become. But… you had become unreal in my mind. A vision. When my mother asked me, I answered honestly. And she wasn't surprised. She told me to go for you. To find the one that would make my heart safe, then to come back and challenge my father, so they could both see me settled and happy and on the throne before… before he got weak."

He swallowed again.

"I thought she was crazy. But the idea wouldn't leave me alone. For a week, I got up every morning swearing I wasn't going to do it, and as the day went on, and as my fear for my father grew, it became almost an obsession. A compulsion. I had to find you and see if… if you were indeed the right one.

He looked at her, and Elia held her breath.