The Leopard King

by Ann Aguirre

  Not even her shadow.

  In school it didn’t bother her to be called Dalena’s sidekick. None of this was fresh or new, so why did she feel so raw? At first she tried holding her breath, but that only set her head throbbing like it might explode. At last Pru gave in and cried until she couldn’t breathe. Afterward, her eyes stung. Just as she was winding down, the last person she wanted to see strode up the path toward her. Not Dom.

  Slay.

  He perched beside her, wrapped in a leather jacket with a wooly lining. Before she could retreat, he touched her cheek. “You’re fucking frozen, and your face is chapped.”

  That was to be expected. She leaned closer to the fire and wished she could blame her tears on the smoke blowing into her face. Slay shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around her, hovering with an uncertainty that might have been touching if she hadn’t closed the door on him so firmly. Before, he never seemed interested in her wounds, preferring to disengage before they talked about anything important. But she had followed him long enough to find his smell comforting, even now.

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Though Pru didn’t say, I’m not your business, she tried to make it clear from her tone.

  Slay flinched. “It was bad enough when I thought you were happy. But this is worse. What happened exactly?”

  “Go away.” When he didn’t, she stood up. “Or not. Put out the fire when you leave.”

  “You said we could be friends. The way you’re acting now proves that’s bullshit.”

  As she turned, he caught her wrist. Pru shook him off, quietly grateful that he was so good at making her mad. “How did you see this going? You give me your coat, I weep in your arms and… what? Fill in the rest because I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve.”

  “Never mind.”

  “Here.” She stripped out of his jacket and handed it back. “I’m going.”

  If nothing else, fighting with Slay had restored her equilibrium enough for her to carry on. Weeks ago, she’d promised to stop by the training center, as most of her class would be playing there today, and she liked her students enough to spend time with them even during winter break. Before she headed in for a rowdy morning, she paused in the public restroom to put a cold, wet towel on her eyes. A few minutes later, Pru decided she looked passable for sweating with small children. When she arrived, Hugh—Arran’s husband and the pride athletic director—had the kids lined up in preparation for a round of Red Rover.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she called. “Who’s ready for a history lesson?”

  A chorus of young voices rang out in protest, and Hugh grinned; he was short and fit with light brown skin and freckles that made Pru like him in solidarity. She joined the opposing team and linked hands, so the fun could begin. Emptying her brain, she fixed all her efforts on preventing the runners from breaking through… because with so much running and screaming, it was impossible to focus on being sad. The first small body hit her arms, and she locked on with fresh shifter strength.

  A black-haired boy named Felix sprang back and tumbled onto his bum with a betrayed expression. “You don’t look that strong.”

  “I heard Miss finally changed,” a girl whispered.

  “Isn’t she Matron Asher now?”

  Oh, shit. I didn’t think of any of that.

  Thankfully Hugh blew his whistle. “Less chatter, more running!”

  He guided them through a series of challenges after Red Rover ended, and Pru appreciated her new level of endurance, a free gift from the Animari gods. Her class was too young or he’d add some shifting practice, as he did with the older students. She recollected sharply how humiliating it had been to be one of three Latent pupils exiled to the library while the others did wilderness training.

  “Did everyone have fun?” Hugh called, as parents came to claim their offspring.

  Pru smiled and blotted the sweat from her forehead. “I did.”

  “You’ve got about two weeks left on break, right?” He worked closely with the pride school, scheduling activities when classes weren’t in session.

  “Yep. I hope you’ll wear them out proper for me so they’re docile enough to learn when they come back.”

  For a moment, he watched the kids rush from the room as if they’d been shot from a cannon, then gave a rueful grin. “Tall order, but I’ll do my best.”

  This was a crucial break from life-or-death issues.

  “I’m off. Hug Arran for me.”

  “Does it still count if I do it for me instead?”

  Pru laughed. “Definitely. I spy your next group queuing in the hall, so I’m escaping before you talk me into another round.”

  “Coward.”

  She waved in acknowledgment and headed for the exit. Past the cluster of training rooms, a well-lit tunnel led from the sports complex to the adjacent spa, complete with steam rooms, bubbling hot baths, and dry heat sauna. Private apartments had at least one shower stall, but for a long scrub and soak, nothing beat the pride tubs. Screens separated small male and female bathing areas for those who preferred privacy, but the biggest pool was communal. Pru stripped off, stowed her belongings in a cubby, and slipped into the water. This time of day, nobody else was around, just what she needed to finish getting her head in order.

  Steam rose from the bath in contrast to the relative chill of the room. For a bit, she paddled and splashed in the hot water before getting down to the business of a proper scrub. It would be better if someone was around to wash her back, and she could’ve called Joss, who was always up for a gossip and soak, but her cousin would know something was up, and she had nothing to say about what happened that morning.

  From across the path, she heard a quiet splash. Odd. I didn’t see anyone come in. All the water dimmed her ability to scent intruders, but a chill rolled over her anyway. Suddenly Pru felt more than naked, and she thought of Dalena, what her last moments must’ve been like.

  When the corpse floated past her, she couldn’t even scream.

  As Dom settled at the conference table with Magda on his right and Slay on his left, he noted that his second smelled faintly of Pru. His first impulse was to punch some answers out of Slay, but that was wildly inappropriate for multiple reasons. First, he was the one who’d hurt her, so if she’d gone to Slay for consolation, while that left him feeling shitty, he couldn’t complain. Second, with the conclave about to begin, there was no room for personal issues. Finally, the last thing he needed was for Talfayen or Alastor to get a glimpse of inner turmoil and try to wedge a knife into those cracks.

  The accords were piled at the center of the table, a boggling hundred and seven pages in small print, with codicils so outdated and obscure that it addressed the jurisdiction of someone else’s sheep encroaching on your property. Dom hoped the document could be updated this time since nobody was raising sheep these days. Well, he couldn’t speak for the Golgoth, actually, but from the terrifying glimmers he’d gotten from Eamon on his return, it didn’t seem probable. For all he knew, the demon kin feasted on the flesh of fallen enemies.

  “Everyone has gathered. Do you plan to keep us waiting?” Talfayen asked sharply.

  With perfect timing, a guard burst into the room without knocking. She rushed over to whisper, “Murder, sir. One of the Eldritch entourage has been found in the baths.”

  The wolf and bear lords certainly had hearing keen enough to catch that revelation. Talfayen proved he did too by lurching to his feet. “Who? What’s happened?”

  No hope of keeping this quiet.

  “Peace talks will have to wait,” he said. “This is urgent. Come with me if you wish.”

  He hoped the other leaders would opt out, but all of them followed him out of the admin center, across the plaza to the spa. Ash Valley was a sizable settlement but still small enough to be traversed on foot, part of why he insisted all vehicles remain on the other side of the gate. For once, Talfayen ha
d no complaints, only maintained a grim silence that worried Dom more.

  When they arrived, he found Pru giving an account to two pride guards. A body had been covered nearby. He didn’t smell even a trace of blood, so the Eldritch probably hadn’t been killed here. The bath was the perfect place to dump a body, the hot water scouring away any evidence that might be left behind. Talfayen knelt and uncovered the man’s head, revealing an ivory mask. Dead eyes stared up at nothing, and the Eldritch leader’s face sort of… crumpled. He went to his knees and with shaking hands touched the waxen features.

  “This is Iolas, my sister’s son. You offered hospitality, I accepted, and now a member of my family has been struck down.” Shaking with rage, Talfayen rose, seeming as if he would challenge Dom right then.

  We won’t even make it to talking about the accords.

  “This isn’t the first security issue they’ve had.” That sly observation came from Prince Alastor, who regarded the dead Eldritch with an indifferent tilt of his head.

  Before things could escalate, he nodded at Magda, who went to work in soothing mode. While she preferred physical challenges, she was better at calming troubled waters than Slay, who would take affront and fight somebody, left unchecked. This is exactly why I came back. He dragged his second over to the guards recording Pru’s statement.

  “Do you know what killed him?”

  “Garrote,” she said.

  “Is that your professional opinion?” Dom should have smiled at her or something, but between their exchange earlier and the corpse on the ground, his face wouldn’t shift from sad and somber lines.

  Just as well, for Talfayen would’ve taken it the wrong way, and he joined the group a few seconds later. “I demand answers.”

  Wish I had some.

  “Perhaps we should remove ourselves before the Animari pick us off one by one,” Alastor suggested.

  Beren seemed to have had enough. “Look here, there’s a whole mess of possible culprits gathered. You have some nerve blaming us. Let’s see some evidence.”

  “I’m neither judge nor juror,” the Golgoth prince said, smiling.

  Is he behind this? But to what end…? It wouldn’t benefit anyone if the peace talks dissolved so early. Hurriedly, he stepped in before the irascible bear lord could come to blows with the bereaved Eldritch leader. His heart dropped when Slay went to Pru immediately and touched her shoulder.

  Dom clearly heard him murmur, “You all right?”

  I should’ve done that first. But today seemed determined to test how many things he could get wrong.

  “Fine.” Pru stepped away and folded her arms in a defensive gesture.

  He shouldn’t be glad over her putting distance between them, but a tiny part of him eased a bit at seeing he still had her loyalty. Somehow. Things were still beyond fucked up, but maybe they weren’t irretrievable. Talfayen’s grim aspect told him it wouldn’t be easy to keep him from packing up. The Noxblade had claimed the Eldritch leader was a traitor, so maybe this murder related to his secret Golgoth alliance.

  Assuming that’s even true.

  Mustering his courage, he strode over to Pru and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She tensed. There were a thousand ways she could reject him, shame him, or send a message. He wished there weren’t so many witnesses, because he owed her an apology for hurting her. Not the time. I’m sure she knows that. But he didn’t relax until her hand settled on his back; it felt like silent reassurance.

  “We’ll put all the personnel we can spare to finding answers,” Dom said. “I recommend forming a task force with members of each faction.”

  Raff nodded. “I’ll send the captain of my guard. That way everyone can be assured the same access to information.”

  The bear lord added, “Likewise. Until we get to the bottom of this, nobody is safe.”

  “You have my deepest condolences and profuse apologies.” He bowed to each member of the Eldritch party in turn and waited for acknowledgment from Talfayen before straightening.

  “It’s sickening. And so strange that your mate happened to find him.”

  Dom’s blood chilled, and his skin crawled with the desire to shift. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to teach Talfayen a lesson with fangs and claws. He resisted; the conclave wasn’t completely a lost cause yet, but the prospects of getting all factions to sign off on new agreements seemed unlikely. If he mauled Talfayen over his bad attitude, he might as well sign and stamp a declaration of war.

  Easy. He’s grieving and has the right to blow off some steam.

  “I hope you’re not insinuating she had anything to do with this. Ash Valley gains nothing and loses much with your nephew’s death.”

  “Please forgive Lord Talfayen,” a Noxblade said. “He’s distraught.”

  “You’re all beasts. If I could, I would cut all ties with your kind,” the Eldritch leader spat.

  Raff’s lips curled back in a snarl, but Dom motioned him to silence as the pride physician arrived. They didn’t have enough foul play to warrant someone dedicated to full-time forensic science, but Sheyla should be up to the task, though she usually treated illness. The onlookers fell quiet as she studied the body.

  “He wasn’t killed here. Someone surprised him from behind. Based on the angle, they were of a similar height. For what it’s worth, it was quick.” She bowed to the Eldritch leader as well, and he seemed more amenable to receiving condolences from her.

  “That rules out your mate,” said Talfayen in a grudging tone.

  Dom reckoned that was as close to an apology as the Eldritch would offer, so he inclined his head and turned his attention to the crisis. “Assemble the task force and interview anyone who used the baths this morning. Magda, you take a look at surveillance footage. This conclave will be postponed until we solve this.”

  “Then there’s no point to my being here,” Prince Alastor said.

  “Nobody leaves.” That came from Slay, but he agreed with that judgment, so he didn’t cut in. “Apologies to Your Royalness, but we can’t risk the culprit slipping away.”

  He nodded. “As of now, Ash Valley is in lockdown. Until we clear up who’s responsible, nobody will be allowed in or out of the hold.”

  16.

  Gavriel was the last person Pru expected to find at her door so late at night.

  It had taken hours to conclude the preliminary murder investigation, and as the closest thing to a witness, she had repeated her story multiple times to a plethora of questioners. Now it was nearly midnight, and Dom was still dealing with the damage. Ignoring her shock, the Noxblade slipped past her and closed the door.

  He carried a small black box, and he used it to check every inch of the flat. Apparently satisfied with his inspection, he sat on the sofa without waiting for an invitation. “How long before your mate returns?”

  “I’m not sure,” she answered. “It would’ve been better if you’d made an appointment.”

  “Try not to be stupider than you can help.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “If I have business that requires I ensure that we’re not overheard, do you think I can put it on a schedule?” His voice contained enough blistering scorn to strip the paint from the walls.

  I’m too tired for this shit. Only the fact that she’d killed his brother kept her from kicking him out. With effort, she held on to her composure. For once, I hope Dad comes back late, if at all. He’ll be safer that way.

  “That’s true enough. Do you want something to drink?”

  “You’d probably poison me.”

  “Only on Tuesdays.”

  In the end, she made tea, which he pretended to drink and so did she. They stared at one another for an awkward half hour before Dom keyed the pin and shambled in, seeming truly wrecked. The dark circles were back, along with fresh lines, and his hair was badly rumpled by endless rakes of restless fingers. He drew up short just inside the door and stared at Gavriel.

  “This must be important.” Dom dropped int
o an armchair and offered an expectant look.

  “First, a confession. But it won’t help you. I need you to promise to hear everything before you react. Can you do that?” Gavriel glanced between them, evidently seeking agreement.

  Pru nodded as Dom said, “I’m listening.”

  “I killed Iolas.”

  At first Pru thought she must’ve imagined that, but based on Dom’s expression, he’d heard it too. So she had to ask, “Why?”

  “I was searching Talfayen’s quarters… and Iolas returned unexpectedly.” From his expression, Gavriel bitterly regretted that failure. “It was him or me.”

  “We’ve seen no proof, none whatsoever, that Talfayen is in league with the Golgoth. I’m half-inclined to turn you over as the traitor.” Dom sounded dead serious too.

  “That would be extremely ill-advised. I didn’t find what I was looking for, but what I did carry away will suffice. I’ll warn you, this won’t be easy to hear.” Serious red eyes studied her mate’s face, and ice formed in Pru’s stomach.

  Dom rapped his knuckles against the side table as a sign of readiness. “Let’s have it.”

  “I pulled this audio file from Iolas’s phone. You’ll probably understand why he was keeping it once you listen to it.”

  “Stop talking and hit play,” Pru said.

  But how bad is this that a trained assassin feels so uncomfortable revealing it?

  An unknown male spoke as soon as Gavriel tapped his screen. “Are you certain this is necessary? It seems… extreme.”

  But the man who replied, Pru would recognize his voice anywhere. Lord Talfayen sounded brusque but also hushed. “You lack the experience to understand, but trust me, it’s for the greater good. I’m starting us on the road to reclaiming lost glory. The endgame will unfold over a measure of years, not months, but we are a patient people, and you will appreciate my brilliance in due time.”

  “Understood. The pride bitch will be dead by nightfall.”

  Dalena. They can only be talking about her. There had been accidents among other settlements, deaths by natural causes, but only Dalena had been murdered in recent years. So Iolas did the killing… on his uncle’s orders?