Prologue
KING ALARICK
Evil. Pure evil. Sent from the depths of hell itself to torment me. Any day now it would attempt to suck my soul out of me. I would not allow it!
I stalked the throne room, my white fur helping me become one with the tiled floor. Did the beast think I couldn’t see him? The impudence! Breaking into my palace, tittering like a blathering fool as it mocked me. This would end now. I unsheathed my razor-sharp claws, wiggled my regal lion butt, set my sights, and—
“What are you doing?”
Jean’s voice startled the beast and it took off. I bolted after it, paws silent against the floor as I gave chase. Jean appeared before me and I skidded to a halt.
“No. Absolutely not. You are not going to go barreling through the palace in your lion form.”
I huffed, craning my neck so I could see over his head as the fiend escaped into the hall. It stopped and looked back at me, soulless black eyes peering at me. With a swish of its tail, it ran off. I roared, the thunderous boom reverberating around us and causing the very walls to tremble.
“Don’t you take that tone with me.” Jean reached up and tugged one of my ears. I growled, and he arched an eyebrow at me. With a mew, I flopped down onto my belly and laid my head on my paws. I was the king. This was my palace. Why shouldn’t I be able to chase away the demon? Or rather eat it. I wrinkled my muzzle at the thought. It probably tasted putrid, charred. Like its soul.
“Your Majesty, you really must leave that poor squirrel alone.”
I lifted my head with a grunt.
“It is not out to steal your soul.” Jean rubbed my muzzle, and I closed my eyes, a purr of contentment escaping me. No! I would not be mollified! “Who’s a good king?”
I bumped him with my nose, and he laughed.
“That’s right. You’re a good king.”
I was a good king.
Pleased, I closed my eyes and rubbed my head against his chest, looking for an ear scratch. Jean gave wonderful ear scratches. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around my head, or at least tried to. In my white lion form, I was far larger than the average lion, and when I shifted, I most often than not shifted into this form. One of the perks of being the King of All Shifters. Jean ran his hands over my impressive mane, and I allowed myself a moment of blissful petting.
“It’s time to shift back, Your Majesty. We have quite the day ahead of us.”
I wasn’t looking forward to this at all. With a groan, I rolled onto my back, paws in the air.
“Really, Your Majesty? Belly rubs?” With a heavy sigh I knew he didn’t mean at all, considering his lips quirked up in the corners, he knelt beside me and rubbed my regal belly. I closed my eyes, basking in the warm glow of the sun as it shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I wrapped a paw around him, and drew him closer, making him chuckle. “This one’s going to be difficult,” Jean murmured, turning and sitting to lay his back against me, my massive paw on his lap. I huffed in response.
Each quest we—or rather Jean—designed came with its challenges, some more than others. All my shifter children were a handful, but none more than the shifter princes and princesses. So much responsibility rested on their young shoulders. I was grateful to Jean for taking over the task of figuring out what kind of quest each prince or princess was to be sent on. To be honest, I was more interested in seeing my children find their mates than in sending them on some perilous quest, but Jean believed it was imperative they prove their worthiness. I tended to throw ideas out at him, and he did all the work. I wasn’t entirely certain what that entailed, but I trusted him wholeheartedly, and ever since I could remember, not one of my children had failed in their quest.
We lay in silence together, his hand coming to rest on my paw. He stroked my fur, and I would have stayed there all day, but I knew I couldn’t. With a little pat to one of my toes, he then shoved my paw off him and stood.
“Come now. There’s no prolonging it.”
Reluctantly I rolled onto my paws and stood before shifting. I frowned at him. “You shouldn’t have kept me from destroying that vile creature.”
Jean began to walk, and I fell into step beside him. “It’s only a squirrel, Your Majesty.”
“You mean a thieving foul beast.” I shook my head. “It knows what it’s about. Every day he lies in wait. The moment you leave my side, even for a moment, he pounces, making off with my treat.” I could tell he was trying not to laugh. “You find my misery amusing, do you?”
“Do I find your ongoing feud with a squirrel amusing? Never. Perhaps it’s a sign that you should cut back on the sweet treats.”
I stopped and peered at him, the gasp I released louder than I had intended. “No.”
Jean tilted his head innocently, except I knew him far too well, the crafty bastard. “What?”
“Tell me you didn’t send that fiend after my delicious baked goods.” I put a hand to my chest. “The betrayal.”
“How many cinnamon rolls have you had today?”
I sniffed and started walking. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Don’t recall? Allow me,” Jean said, keeping up with my brisk pace as I hurried toward my study. “Nine. You ate nine cinnamon rolls. And it’s not even lunchtime.”
“In my defense, they’re delicious. If Chef didn’t want me to eat them, then she shouldn’t make them.”
“You ask her to make them.”
“Because they’re delicious. Are you not listening, Jean?” I turned at the end of the corridor, surprised when Jean stepped in front of me, his brows drawn together with concern. Damnation. I was no match for a concerned Jean.
“Your Majesty,” Jean said softly, his hand on my arm. “This is more than you and your sweet tooth. Whenever you feel overwhelmed, you binge on baked goods. Being immortal doesn’t mean an unhealthy lifestyle won’t kill you—it just means it will take far longer than it would a human. Please. I’m not ready to outlive you.”
His words wrapped themselves around my heart like never before, and when he laid his hand over my heart, I covered it with mine. I really would be so lost without this amazing, wonderful creature.
“What did I do to deserve you, Jean?” I kissed his hand, and something fluttered in my stomach when he blushed. With a gentle smile, I released his hand. Must be my nerves over today’s task that had me feeling off center. “Thank you for your concern and care.”
“Perhaps,” Jean said quietly before clearing his throat and continuing, “when you’re feeling overwhelmed or nervous, you’ll allow me to console you instead.”
As if he didn’t already. Jean was my rock. I turned to him to keep me grounded, to steady me when the world seemed hellbent on destroying itself. He kept me sane. I wrapped my arm around his and turned him in the direction of my study. “I’d like that.”
We walked into my study, and I released him so he could close the door. I sat at my desk like I always did, and he sat in the ornate ivory-and-gold love seat across from me. As he picked up the tablet beside him, I took a moment to admire him. He was so elegant, from his shined shoes and long legs, to his perfect tie and the barely-there stubble that was growing in. His hair was combed and parted, his long fingers moving deftly on the tablet, despite his bandaged eyes.