AARYN
He barely tasted his breakfast, though the cooks had made their favorites—beef sausage and minted berries for Elreth, fried pan cakes with the sugar syrup for Aaryn. He spent the lengthy morning torn between staring in awe at his mate as she received the joy of her people, and sensing the dark eyes and tension of those who were... less excited.
Aaryn found he couldn't stop scanning the market, finding the unsmiling faces, the uncertain ones, and the few that stared back with a downright challenge. They were fewer than he'd anticipated, he reminded himself. He'd even been greeted by wolves who were not disformed that morning. Wolves were always impressed by status and power. For some, his title and position would be enough to swing the balance.
He would take those wins where he could get them. But that didn't relax the tension in his back, or make him any less aware of the Anima who remained disapproving—or even aggressive.
