Who Questions the King?

RETH

When the Serpent didn't respond to his challenge, Reth let himself feel his Kingship—his strength, his power, his authority—let it all roll around in his head and fill his blood with the pulse of it. He was the King of Beasts! Then he let the male serpent—and anyone else who cared to pay attention—scent him. His dominance. His sheer masculinity.

It was this sense of himself that had made him dominant to begin with. Even as heir, his Kingship could be challenged. He'd had to earn it. He remembered the ways he'd grown and strengthened as a young man-cub, let himself be filled with the pride of this position he owned, then let all the males scent him and decide if they wanted to fuck with what he had to offer.

They didn't, of course, that's why he was King.

But just for a moment, inside, he begged one of them to snap and come at him, give him a chance to unleash some of this tension and aggression he was building.

He was tempted to taunt Lucan. But that was the difference between a wolf and a lion. Lions made decisions that were best for the pride as a whole. Wolves, while pack animals, still centered on themselves, or their family groups.

Let Lucan come at him and he would tear the man's head off. But Reth refused to be the one to lose control—or push someone else to it. He would lead by example.

Then he spoke to Seerus again. "Speak up, man: Do you feel a Queen is needed to make up for some lack in your King?" he said in a growl like ground rocks.

"No, Sire. But if something were to happen to you—"

"Did my mother lead in battle, Seerus?"

"No, Majesty."

"Did my grandmother?"

"No."

The King stared down at the man, who broke eye contact and dropped his head, stepping back to his place in the circle of watchers as Reth snarled at the rest of them. "You demanded the ancient Rite as was your due, and I fulfilled is as your King." He turned to stare towards Lucan and the wolves. "You chose the contenders for my pleasure and trained your sacrifices. The result stands before you: A clan that will not need to grieve their daughter's death and a Pure One as Queen for the first time in twenty generations. You asked for the Rite to show you the future of the clans, and so it has. That future is now. Anima, meet your chosen queen!"

The Tribes all responded as they should, raising their voices in their battle cries to celebrate her victory. But he sensed the tension in them. The forced feeling of their cheers. The question remained in their minds.

Well, let them question. They were the ones who'd brought this about.

Then he turned to face Elia. She stood there, hands at her sides clenched into tiny fists, dressed in the manner of the human world, her eyes wide and her hair falling from its twist.

"Elia, I am sorry that you were pulled into our world without choice, but you have earned the greatest honor Anima can bestow upon you." It was unfortunate that he had to have this conversation with her publicly, but it was perhaps even more important for the Tribes to hear it, than Elia herself. "You are now one of us and I will not leave you unprotected. All that is mine is yours—my wealth, my strength, my body—everything my position as King offers. But you need not fear me. The Anima may have animal blood in our veins, but we are first thinkers, people of heart. You need never fear that I would force myself upon you. You will rule with me, but you will do so untouched until you would choose differently."

Everyone in the circle gasped and Reth had to bite back a smile. Let them chew on that. 

"But… Sire…" one of the lionesses spluttered. Reth had to swallow a snarl—his own tribe would question him on this?