AARYN
Every cell in his body cried out to shift, to become, to put himself between her and the very real danger of her father's wrath, but his cursed body wouldn't fucking do it.
He quivered with the urge, begging the Creator—just this once—to let him shift to his wolf form, to show the rest of the world the teeth and claws and rage that snarled inside him. To stand in defense of her the way she'd stood for him so many times before. To force Reth, who had clearly lost his mind, to face them both.
But as Elreth, his best friend since they were cubs, stood before all of Anima and faced down her father the King, Aaryn was, once again, useless.
Impotent rage burned in his chest.
Then, after a frozen moment in which father and daughter stared murder at each other, Elreth launched herself at the King—shifting in midair to the glorious, golden lioness she was. Her father shifted a heartbeat behind her and the roars from both of them echoed even above the calls of the crowd—and still Aaryn could do nothing.
As he watched the two of them strike and roll, heard the blood-curdling snarls of predators ready to kill, he stood there shaking, praying, pleading with the Creator that somehow she'd survive this.
She wouldn't even have challenged Reth if it weren't for Aaryn. It had always been this way, since the day they'd become friends when she was eight, and he was twelve, and a group of boys had dragged him out to the Forest to see if they could torment him into shifting.
He didn't know how she'd stumbled on them, but even then, when she was so small, she had her father's fierce nature, the natural dominance that made people walk wide around her.
He'd been crouched, holding a branch, desperately fending off three young Lupines who had shifted into their wolves—to torment him—when she'd leapt out of the trees and in one breathless moment, she'd done at eight what he'd begged, sweated, and raged for since he was old enough to understand: She'd taken beast form. Then she'd snapped her lion jaws around the leg of the first little wolf, who'd gone down with a yelp.
She'd whipped around, her tail serpentining with the force of her turn, and taken the second by the ear, holding him, growling until he submitted, and shifted back to his true human form. That one was in tears, and the third had fled before she was done. After which, she'd effortlessly shifted back to her true self, discarding the beast within.
Then she stood in front of him, only eight, her cheeks pink with anger and her glowing red hair flying in every direction, hands in claws while she waited to make sure no more were coming.
When she'd finally turned to him, her eyes had softened. "I'm Elreth," she'd said, then tipped her head. "Do you want a snack? My mother will make it."
Expecting another attack, he'd just gaped at her.
She frowned. "Do you speak?"
Speak? Of course he spoke! He was disformed, not stupid! "Yes, I speak," he'd snapped. "But you can't be friends with me. You're the Princess."
"Pfffft." She'd tossed her shining copper hair over her shoulder and turned to walk towards what he soon learned was the royal cave. "My mother doesn't care. Come have some cookies."
And that had been that.
They'd stood side-by-side against the world ever since. And more often than not, fought like cats and dogs—no pun intended—when they were alone.
Now she was almost twenty, and he was twenty-four. Well-past the age of mating. These days there was a large enough disformed population that he could have called a mate by now. Should have.
But despite years of efforts to distract himself with other females, he'd never really wanted anyone else. And Elreth had just never wanted anyone. Including him.
So, he knew her effort today wasn't born of some great passion. She loved him like a brother. More, actually. He knew her brother. They had an erratic relationship at best.
Aaryn was undeniably her best friend. She had her mother's heart for the alienated. She'd been arguing with her father about what to do with the growing disformed population for as long as he'd known her.
He'd never thought it would come to this, though.
Never.
He blinked, bringing his focus back to the present and a snarl rose in his throat as the King—easily half-again as big as Elreth in Beast form—shook off the hold she'd almost gotten on his back, and whipped a massive paw out, clawing for her chest with a blow that struck like lightening.
With her smaller, faster body and lithe grace, Elreth managed to dance back out of reach—almost. Her father's claws caught on her chest, opening shallow wounds in her skin that left her chest fur bloodied. But she didn't even pause. Despite the wound, as her massive father's weight shifted with the power of his swipe, she opened her teeth and darted in take him at the shoulder.
They tumbled together, the stage shaking with the thuds and groans of their clash. They whipped over and around each other so quickly, he couldn't follow—until Reth snarled and cuffed her back and away.
She almost lost her feet, sliding on the stage for several feet, but then they faced each other, heads down, chests heaving, and eyes bright with the light of the hunt.
Reth shook his mane once, then twice.
Had she gotten a bite in that he'd missed? Reth's step seemed jerky and the way he kept shaking his mane, something was clearly bothering him.
But he was a seasoned warrior, and no matter how much Elreth had play-fought with him in training, Aaryn knew this was no sparring match.
Those were real teeth and claws. That was real blood dripping down her chest.
Unless she submitted—something he'd never seen Elreth do in the twelve years he'd known her—she would find more than her pride wounded today.
His heart was in his throat as he pleaded with the Creator to keep her safe.
While most of the crowd inched back in case the combatants ran loose—every Anima who could shift had lost control of their beast more than once—Aaryn stepped forward, striding towards the stage.
Elreth always knew him, even when she was in beast form. She recognized his scent and marked him as a pride member, despite what everyone else described as his "odd" smell.
He'd coached her through a fight more than once. He could do it again. Even if the stakes were much, much higher this time. So, as the rest of the Anima pushed back, away from the stage, he rushed forward to stand at its edge.
"He's shaky on that back leg, Elreth. Force him onto it!" he called, trying to keep his voice strong, despite how she trembled.
Please, please… let her submit.
She didn't look at him, but her ears flickered towards him as she and her father padded in a circle, growling challenges at each other, as each looked for the opening to pounce. Her father shook his head again and Aaryn's stomach clenched.
Suddenly the Queen was next to him—he'd forgotten she was there—clasping his arm, her brow furrowed and eyes sad. "I never wanted to see this between them."
Aaryn put a hand over hers where she gripped him. "He won't kill her… will he?"
"Of course not!" she said, but her tone said she wanted to convince herself, as much as him.
Then Reth flowed forward with the force of a tidal wave, huge and relentless, teeth bared and claws extended as he tried to hook Elreth's shoulder, to flip her.
With the impossible grace she'd always had, she leaped, twisting in midair to come down on his extended shoulder instead. But the cunning warrior only dropped and rolled, his huge body like a boulder, bearing her to the stage floor.
"Elreth!" Aaryn shouted in the same moment the Queen cried, "No!"
But Elreth and her father tumbled to the stage floor, the great beams cracking under their combined weight.