Claimed & Seduced (31 page)

“It’s me,” Ellard said, sounding harried. “Just a moment,” he roared. “The king will attend the meeting in two hours. He’s exhausted after the events of yesterday and requires his rest. Tell the council two hours.”

Jarlath checked the hour and his brows rose. These council types started work early.

“I’m sorry,” Ellard said, speaking to him again. “I’ve stalled as long as I can. Everyone is concerned and close to panic. They require your reassurance.” He paused to take a heavy breath. “Also, Lady Arabella’s father has contacted the palace. He wishes to discuss settlements.”

Jarlath yanked on the pendant of office. The golden chain wasn’t tight around his neck but right now, it felt as if someone were pulling on the pendant and choking the life from him.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. I’ll head back now and enter the castle via our rear entrance. I might make a surprise visit to the kitchens to order a meal to break our fast. Anything special you’d like?”

“A new arm would come in handy,” Ellard said, his tone a hairsbreadth from tetchy.

Jarlath sobered, his hand tightening around his com. “I can imagine it’s frustrating, but I’m glad we were able to save your life. Call me selfish, but I don’t think I’d manage to get through this without you.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“I know. Any luck contacting Shiloh?”

“No, the com goes through to the message box. Lynx and Shiloh could be anywhere.”

Jarlath pulled on one boot then shifted the com to his other hand and eased on his second boot. “I hope they turn up soon. We could do with their help.” He stood. “I’m leaving now. It seems quiet, or at least it was when I flew over the city. The soldiers have stopped the looting and most people have hunkered down. See you soon.”

After checking the hour again, Jarlath walked downstairs. He found Keira in the kitchen. “I have to go.”

“I think that’s best.”

“Keira, I don’t know what happened. I—”

“We had sex,” she said. “That’s all. It’s been nice knowing you, King Jarlath. I doubt our paths will cross in the future.”

Cristop ambled into the kitchen. “Thought I heard voices.” His gaze went from Keira’s stony face to Jarlath and back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Keira snapped. “The king is just leaving.”

“King?” Cristop asked. “Should I bow?”

Jarlath ignored the youth’s smirk. “This isn’t over, Keira. I’m coming back tonight.”

“You’re not welcome,” Keira said in a hard voice. “Return at your peril.”

Anger built in Jarlath. “I will be back.” He strode from Keira’s house before she had a chance to lay down an ultimatum, one they might both regret. What was wrong with the woman? He’d claimed her, and he wasn’t letting go this easily.

Back at the castle, Jarlath headed to the rear entrance after leaving the flymo at the royal garage.

“Who goes there?” A soldier challenged him. Better, Jarlath thought, even though his presence was inconvenient.

“King Jarlath,” Jarlath said, pulling back the hood of his cloak.

The soldier snapped to attention and saluted.

Jarlath returned the gesture with a crisp return acknowledgment. “Good morn.”

Surprise sprinted across the man’s face before his expression blanked again.

Jarlath strode through the gardens and almost sighed when another soldier stopped his progress.

“Who goes t-there?” This one was younger and less experienced.

Jarlath went through the same procedure again. He entered the castle and broke into a trot. At the first kitchen, he stuck his head inside.

“Prince Jarlath,” a young girl said, her words drawing the attention of the other staff. He recognized her as the girl he’d met and escorted to the kitchen.

“It’s King Jarlath now,” he said. “Ellard and I would like to break our fast. Can you send a tray to my quarters with enough food for both of us please?”

“Yes, King Jarlath,” she said when everyone else just gaped at him. “I will arrange a tray.”

“Thank you, Gertrude.” Jarlath left, long strides taking him to his suite.

“King Jarlath. You’re here,” Ellard said with obvious relief.

“More problems?”

“Your parents wish to see you after the council meeting.”

“Call me Jarlath, please, Ellard. At least in private. The food will arrive soon.” Jarlath stalked to the window and stared down at the square, his mind going to Keira.

“I thought you’d be looking more rested or at least happier after spending the night with Keira.”

Jarlath turned to study his friend. Ellard’s face appeared drawn, lines bracketing his mouth and dark shadows displaying his lack of sleep.

“Keira kicked me out,” Jarlath said. “The minute she saw the king’s pendant something changed. Told me she didn’t wish to be a mistress and I should return to the castle. I tried to tell her I had no intention of going anywhere, but she wouldn’t let me speak.”

Ellard’s brows drew together. “She’s right, Jarlath. Unless she consents to act as your mistress, there is no future for the two of you. You’re betrothed to Lady Arabella. Soon you’ll marry.”

The very idea filled Jarlath with repugnance, and he growled to show his displeasure.

“I thought this was what you wanted. You’re the king now. You can change things, make life better for the people.”

Jarlath gave a tired nod. The people deserved a break. They deserved to have improved conditions and a better standard of living. “Do you know what the council want to discuss?”

“They mentioned the formal announcement to the people,” Ellard said.

Someone tapped at the door.

“That will be breakfast,” Jarlath said. “I wouldn’t mind a quick wash and change of clothes. Won’t be long.” Jarlath didn’t wait for an answer but headed for his sanitizer room. He stripped, his nostrils flaring when he caught the scent of Keira on his skin.

His mate.

He stepped into the sanitizer and pushed the control buttons for wash, rinse and dry. The process was quick and efficient—a practical and modern addition to the castle. Most of the wealthy had a few modern appliances, but the public who resided in the lower city still used bathhouses. Change, he thought. Their minerals were a finite resource. They needed a new shipping port with larger berths to support more visitors. They needed to attract further investment and to open to more trade. They needed income from tourists and perhaps businessmen.

And then there was the disease creeping through the shifter part of the population. Somehow, he’d beaten the blight, and the scientists needed to discover how he’d done this.

All things to discuss with the council.

When Jarlath returned to his reception room, the scent of fried meat and tay filled the air.

“You will attend the meeting with me,” Jarlath said.

“Me? They won’t allow me entrance.”

“We’ll see about that,” Jarlath said.

T
he council meeting commenced half an hour later than scheduled. The ten men who aided the king in the governing of the city sat in stupefied silence, regarding Jarlath in the same manner a space mouse regarded a cat who was about to pounce.

They stared at each other, glanced at him and stirred uneasily in their seats. One coughed as Jarlath laid out the first part of his plan to improve life for the occupants of the lower city.

When their expressions became increasingly incredulous, Jarlath waited for them to begin their rebuttal. He’d already fought the battle for Ellard to attend the meeting and won. He was confident he’d win his other skirmishes too. These men were stuck in the past and he intended to shake things up and kick the House of the Cat into the future. Willingly or kicking and screaming—it didn’t matter to Jarlath.

Progress would happen.

“We must arrange the formal announcement later today,” one of the men said in the pause.

“And discuss the coronation,” another added.

“A week of feasting and celebration,” a third said.

“No,” Jarlath said. “We’ll hold the formal ceremony in the square, but there will be no celebration. The funds should be applied to rebuilding the city.”

Appalled silence fell, and Jarlath decided to lay out the rest of his plan now. He began slowly, detailing his ideas to bring the city into the future, and when he finished everyone regarded him with expressions akin to horror.

“We can’t cut the palace budget, your majesty,” one said. “We must keep up appearances.”

“Taxes on wealth aren’t the answer,” another cried.

Jarlath massaged the bridge of his nose and strove for patience. “It is wrong for a few to live in luxury while the rest lives in poverty and hardship. We will budget. Who is the treasurer?”

“Me, your majesty.” A thin male with a pallid complexion lifted his right hand. “I am the treasurer.”

“The budgets require trimming. Report to my suite with the palace and the city books once the meeting ends. Now, security. We need to recruit more men. I expect some of the city men will report to the castle today, expecting payment for services rendered. Treasurer, please arrange a clerk to handle this.”

“How will we know which men to pay, your majesty?” the treasurer asked, his manner timid.

“They’ll hand in protection spells and receive their wages in return. Ellard will aid you with this. Ellard, offer any who are interested a position in our army. Standard rates.”

“Yes, King Jarlath,” Ellard said.

Jarlath almost grinned at the honest humor he saw in his friend’s face. He was enjoying this meeting much more than the councilors.

“Your majesty,” a councilman protested. “Our soldiers have always come from the upper class. The people should not receive the same wage.”

“If they put their lives in danger to protect those in the city, they will receive the same wage. See to it. Who is in charge of buildings?”

“Me, your majesty.” This councilman was rotund and red-faced, his eyes a dark green, signifying the loss of his feline.

“I want you to tour the city and draw up plans for the rebuilding. Take some soldiers with you and several assistants. Talk to the people and ask for their opinions. Tell them to send written submissions to the castle. I will consider every submission. We want modern, practical buildings. I want another team to plan a spaceport large enough to receive ships from distant planets. Decide on the best area to build the port.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the rotund man said, scribbling notes furiously.

“Is there anything else that requires our immediate attention?” Jarlath asked.

“The coronation,” one said.

Jarlath frowned, his thoughts drifting to Keira.
Mate
. “Tomorrow at noon. Make the announcement today—you don’t require my presence for that—and tell everyone the coronation will occur in the square. I will make the explanation as to why we are diverting from tradition during the formal ceremony.”

“Yes, King Jarlath,” one of the men said.

“There is much to do,” Jarlath said. “I suggest we meet at the same time every day for the foreseeable future. That way we can make rapid decisions. Any questions.” Jarlath scanned their faces and decided they appeared suitably shattered. “Right. I want each of you to look at your areas of responsibility and report back to me at our meeting on the morrow. Look at your budgets and trim the fat.” Jarlath stood. “Ellard, with me.” He strode from the council room, paused. “I think I’ve rattled them enough at present. My parents next.”

“I’ll wait in your suite.”

“No, you’re my shadow. I want you to witness everything that happens today.”

Jarlath knocked on the door to his parents’ suite. A servant opened the door and he stalked inside. “Mother, you wished to see me.”

She set her cup of kafe down. “Ellard, wait outside.”

“No, Mother. I have much to do today. Ellard is discreet. You can say what you wish in front of him.”

His mother glared daggers at him. “You have changed, Jarlath, and not for the better. Don’t tell me you attended the council meeting dressed as you are?”

There was nothing wrong with his clothes. They helped him to blend—maybe not when he was in the castle but when he was out on the street. “Mother.”

“Very well.” She peered down her nose at Ellard until his friend broke their visual dual to stare at his feet. Mollified, she turned to her son. “You must set a date for your wedding.”

Jarlath sighed, sad his relationship with his parents had come to this. There was no way to make this palatable. “Mother, I won’t be marrying Lady Arabella.”

“What?” The word came out at a near shriek.

His father entered the reception room, still dressed in a robe. “What is the matter?”

“Jarlath has just informed me he doesn’t intend to marry Lady Arabella.”

“But—” his father began.

“I have a mate already. It would be wrong of me to wed another.”

“You can’t—”

“I am not discussing this with you. I am telling you what will happen. I cannot continue with the betrothal. I intend to explain the situation to Lady Arabella and her father, but I will not change my mind.”

“It’s that woman,” his mother spat.

“That woman has a name, and she is my mate,” Jarlath said. “Now, if that is all, I have an appointment with Lady Arabella.”

Leaving his mother spluttering, Jarlath wheeled away and departed his parents’ suite at a fast clip.

Ellard trotted to catch up. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

For the first time this morn, Jarlath’s heart rate settled instead of keeping up the agitated pulsations. His feline calmed instead of bucking beneath his skin. This was the right thing to do, following his instincts. To
grata
with anything else.

T
he meeting with Lady Arabella and her father was just as difficult as he imagined it would be. Lady Arabella burst into tears and ran from the room. Her mother shrieked long and loud until Jarlath’s head started to ache.

“Enough,” Jarlath barked. “Ellard, please take Lady Dawn for a walk in the garden until she recovers. I need to speak with Lord Innes in private.”

Ellard shot him a dirty look but ushered Lady Dawn from the room.

“Lord Innes, I realize I’ve handled this situation badly, and I apologize for my behaviour. I needed my parents to cooperate in order to best Razvan and a betrothal was the quickest way for this to happen.”