Мэри Дэвидсон - Canis Royal Bridefight

This went on with surprising rapidity. Lois wasn’t sure if they were letting the king win because he was the king, or because the old guy was a righteous ass-kicker. Regardless, it was a helluva show.

He beat Maltese. He beat Shakal. And when it seemed the entire arena was holding its collective breath, when Damon grimly approached him for a turn, the king abruptly bowed to Damon, bowed to her, and walked off the field with dignity to spare.

The crash of applause was thunderous; she nearly jumped out of her skin. Minutes later, he was settling into his seat beside hers.

“Awesome,” she told him.

“My lady humbles me.” 
“Didn’t want to puncture Damon’s ego, huh?” 
“My point was made, I think, and I am too old for such games. Still,” he added

wistfully, taking her hand in his, “it was enjoyable while it endured. I’truth, my lady, I

doubt I would have beaten my eldest. Best not to let him find out for sure.” She laughed and, after a moment, the king joined in. Once the king had dropped out, the pecking order was quickly established. And

before another hour had passed, Damon had been proven the winner, with Maltese at second place and Shakal in third. Lois clapped hard. The royal family had certainly kicked ass and taken names today! She could really get behind a family like that.

“The winner, ruler of the Bridefight, with first choice of mate…our good Prince Damon!”

“What’s he doing now?” Lois asked, puzzled, as Damon darted toward her, then with one bound, was standing beside her and pulling her out of her chair. “How’d you do that? We’re ten feet off the arena floor, at least. I swear there must be something in the water…”

“I choose—the Lady Lois!” 
Thunderous applause. 
She blinked. “What?” 
“By the law of our land, the winner has chosen, and we are mated!” 
Even more applause. 
“ What ?” 
“All hail Princess Lois, she-who-will-be-queen!” 
Pandemonium. Cheers. A few people jumped out of their seats, transformed in

mid-air, and ran around the arena on all fours, yowling ecstatically. “Here comes that noise again,” Maltese said, squinting wistfully up at her from the arena floor. “Aaaaaaaggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Chapter 7

“No.” 
“But it is the law.” 
 “No. ” 
“But my good princess…” 
“Stop calling me that!” 
They were in Damon’s— Damon’s! —bedroom. It was slightly smaller than the

queen’s, which was to say, the size of her apartment times two. He’d pulled her out of the arena, away from the rejoicing crowds, and now they had a modicum of privacy so she could rip him a new asshole.

“Lois, it is a great honor to be first chosen from the Bridefight, and—” 
“How could you marry me without even asking?” 
He didn’t say anything. 
“I didn’t have a clue what today was about and you know it! It was a sneaky, nasty

trick and you—” “My princess shames me with her truthfulness.” “ I’m not finished ,” she snarled. They were nose to nose—well, her nose to his

collarbone—and her fists were clenched at her sides. She kept them there. She was afraid if she didn’t keep control of her hands they’d load her gun and start pulling the trigger. The way she felt right now, that would be just fine. “You should be ashamed! I drop out of the sky yesterday, and today you fixed it so we’re married. Married ! And if you think I’m gonna meekly trot off to your bed and be your princess and—and—”

“Give me heirs,” he prompted helpfully. 
“Damn right! Well, forget it. Y’know, where I come from—” 
“You are there no longer.” 
“Shut up! I know that, you think I don’t know that? Where I come from, the ladies

get something called an engagement. For the benefit of the terminally stupid in this room, I will explain—”

“We also have a handfasting, but—”

“ I...will…explain. An engagement is time to get used to the idea of getting married and, oh, I dunno, plan the wedding maybe? I mean, that was it? My wedding? You making a declaration in front of a bunch of strangers and we’re hitched? That fucking blows!”

She was doing fine, working herself up into a real fury, but everything rose up and hit her all at once, like a blow. She was married in a strange place, to a stranger who could turn into a puma, and one of these days she was gonna have to be queen. So if she stayed, she had to tolerate that, and if she went back home, what in the world— worlds—would she be returning to?

She burst into tears. Damon looked distinctly alarmed and raised his arms as if to hug her. She kicked out at him, nearly breaking her bare toe on his shin. “Get out,” she sobbed. “Get out of here and leave me alone. I hate you.”

He opened his mouth.

“Get out !”

He slowly turned on his heel and left. This was a perfect opportunity to do what she’d wanted to do for the last fifteen minutes, and she instantly took advantage of the situation. She threw herself on Damon’s bed and kicked and yelled and cried.

* * * * *

“Lois?”

She rolled over and blinked up at the king. Her eyes felt swollen and sore. Her nose was stuffed shut.

The king was looking sorrowfully down at her. He had changed into fresh robes and his hair was damp from the bathing room. She remained unmoved at his obvious attempt to make himself presentable before bugging her.

“We have wronged you, it is true. And now here is another truth—we do not wish it undone.”

“This is how you cheer me up? Because you suck at it.”

“Lois, we do not wish you to return. But you must also tell truths—do you honestly wish to go back? You are here because you lost something, yes? I can think of not one visitor from your world who wished to go back, in all the long years of my reign.”

“Staying here’s one thing,” she grumped. “Being a princess and married without even being asked is something else.” She pulled at the hem of her robe—God, there were yards of the stuff—and blew her nose on it.

“Do you not find my son pleasing?”

“Oh, he’s gorgeous and you know it,” she snapped. “And he’s nice—when he’s not tricking girls into marrying him—and a good fighter and he’ll be a great king because he’s smart and sneaky and everybody around here seems to love his ass, and he seems to like me all right, and he didn’t eat me out in the desert when he had the chance, but still. He should have asked.”

“It is not in the nature of a prince of the realm to ask,” the king chided. 
“Too fucking bad, Jack.” 
“My name is not Jack.” 
“Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out, Jack .” 
The king frowned down at her. “We have come to comfort you despite the many

demands on our time, and now we are displeased,” he said formally. “We require you

rise and adjust to your station and greet your mate, the High Prince.” “‘We’ can take a long walk off a short pier. Buzz off.” He glared down at her. She glared back, and hiccuped. The corner of his mouth

twitched—Damon’s did that, too!—and then he said, “Perhaps for a bowl of kumkoss ?” “There isn’t enough candy in the world to get me out of this bed. Now go away!” “It is unseemly for a lady of your station to lie abed and sulk.” “I give a shit!” “You will arise at once!” “Wanna bet, fur face?”

He wheeled about and stomped out, looking like the world’s oldest third-grader. She watched him go in gloating triumph. Ha! Nothing’s getting me out of this bed. I’m gonna lie here and sulk all damn week, if I want. Not budgin’…