The Courtesy of Kings | ☑ Queenkiller, Kingmaker #2

36.2

A shadow swept over the field. The screaming around her tapered to a silent disbelief.

Before Isla could even blink, the shadow dove past the splitting crowd, talons outstretched, and descended upon the Rasundan tiger.

There was a flurry of feathers, screeching and roaring. A bird as large as a condor pinned the tiger against the ground, each struggling against the other. The grass around Isla parted with every beat of the bird's wings, dirt scattered with every swipe of the tiger's claws.

People were falling over themselves, struck by the sight. Even Isla could hardly believe what she was seeing.

'Horned rukh!' Finally a voice broke through the collective shock, and horned rukh it was.

There had been talk of a sighting at the Water Palace. Tales had spread how Maharaj Khaisan may have caught himself the prize of the hunt, but Kiet had caught himself a capradon.

But those were just talk. The same way they talked of Kiet beating down a whole army to capture Dhvani, or how he rose unscathed after an entire building collapsed on top of him. But everyone must know they were nothing more than exaggerated tales; things that made for entertaining tavern songs and street performances.

The bird before her was no tavern song nor street performance.

But no one's seen a capradon for over a hundred years.

What were those horns, then—sharp and thick enough to pierce through the tiger's neck if the bird so pleased?

'Nagha!' Kiet's voice roared above all the hissing and screeching. 'Enough.'

The bird trilled, gave the cat one final push, and took flight. Isla barely registered Kiet hovering behind her; her gaze was still on the capradon, flying circles around the tiger as though to mock it.

'You better learn to control your bondmate, champion, lest I revoke you your prize.' He spoke calmly and yet Isla feared him more than the tiger and its tireless growling.

'Yes, maharaj!' Its human had come closer now that the capradon was far above them. He dropped to his knees, brows against the grass. 'Please, forgive my tiger! He hasn't spent long outside the forests of Rasunda. The smell of blood still calls to him—'

'Then get him out of here.'

The man shot immediately to his feet and begged for his tiger to calm, but the giant cat only sensed more danger on its human's behalf. It snarled and bared its fangs, hackles rising. The man spluttered and pulled it back. 'Stop it, Ra'ung, please!'

Kiet twitched in irritation. 'He may be your bondmate, but you are more than its human. You are its master.' His hand dropped gently down to rest upon the hilt of his sword. 'And masters never should beg.'

Isla blanched along with the man. She remembered suddenly Tempestorm and Kiet's treatment of the marid that had been guiding their ship. But luckily the creature heeded its master's words and backed slowly away out of Kiet's presence; its human bowing and apologising until they disappeared behind the gathering crowd.

Finally Kiet crouched beside Isla. His eyes widened at the sight of her wound. 'I'll take you to the infirmary at once.'

'It's only a scratch. Looks worse than it is.'

'I see you've never had an infection before, and I liked not the sight or scent of that deer-pig.' He tore a length off the sleeve of his robe and started binding her wound.

His hands were warm around her thigh. The fabric was soft but still it stung, and the pressure did not help, either. Isla squeezed the back of his neck to keep from crying out.