For them, the last three days had been a form of psychological warfare.

They had been running on fumes.

Not knowing what was happening.

Not knowing what "important decisions" Mirabelle needed to make.

Of course, they knew those decisions involved them.

In their male arrogance, they had even convinced themselves that they were the only thing she could possibly be thinking about.

The result had been three days of alternating confidence and doubt.

One moment they were plagued by uncertainty.

The next they were completely convinced that they alone were the obvious choice.

Silas had spent most of the time pretending none of it bothered him.

Unfortunately, everyone who knew him could tell it bothered him immensely.

Whenever his thoughts drifted toward Mirabelle, he found himself replaying every interaction they had shared.

Every look.

Every conversation.

Every touch.

Then his mind would immediately provide a list of reasons why she might choose someone else.

The process repeated itself endlessly.

Silas had never considered himself an impatient male.

Yet during those three days, he found himself staring at doors.

Hallways.

Windows.

Anything that might suddenly reveal Mirabelle.

Several times he caught himself drifting toward the library before forcing his feet in another direction.

The worst part wasn’t the waiting.

It was the helplessness.

There was no enemy to fight.

No obstacle to overcome.

Nothing to protect her from.

For perhaps the first time in his life, all he could do was wait.

He hated it.

Kaelith handled the situation differently.

He complained.

Constantly.

To anyone unfortunate enough to stand nearby.

The food tasted worse.

The weather was worse.

The castle was worse.

Everything was worse.

Then, without warning, he would start grinning to himself because Mirabelle had kissed him.

Only to remember several minutes later that she had also kissed the other two.

Which would ruin his mood all over again.

Kaelith coped by becoming increasingly unbearable.

He picked fights.

Started arguments.

Lost interest halfway through both.

Several servants learned to flee the moment they spotted him approaching.

At one point he challenged three males to sparring matches simply because they looked too relaxed.

None of it helped. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Every idle moment brought him back to the same thought:

What if she chose someone else?

What if she chose all of them?

What if she chose none of them?

By the third day, even Kaelith was exhausted by Kaelith.

Lucien had attempted to distract himself with work.

For approximately six minutes.

After that, he found himself staring at the same document for nearly an hour while imagining entirely different futures.

Some involved Mirabelle choosing him.

Others involved her choosing someone else.

Those particular scenarios usually ended with him finding new and creative ways to blame Silas and Kaelith for things that weren’t their fault.

Lucien attempted to be productive.

The attempt failed spectacularly.

Reports remained unread.

Meetings became exercises in pretending he was listening.

At one point the Duchess had to repeat the same question four times before he realized she was speaking to him.

She found this endlessly entertaining.

Lucien did not.

Every future he imagined eventually ended with Mirabelle.

Unfortunately, none of those futures agreed on whether she wanted him there.

By the end of the third day, all three males had reached a state where their thoughts chased themselves in circles.

When Mirabelle finally summoned them, they followed the servant guiding them through the castle almost numbly.

Never before had they experienced emotional turmoil like the previous three days.

Now they were so overstimulated that their bodies seemed incapable of reacting appropriately to anything.

The servant led them to a pair of enormous doors. Then he bowed and disappeared.

The three males exchanged a look.

Suddenly united by the same uncertainty.

The same anticipation.

The same fear.

With a silent nod, they pushed the doors open.

The throne room of Luchsenstein had not been built to impress visitors. It had been built to remind them where they stood.

Massive pillars rose toward a ceiling lost in shadow.

Ancient banners hung between them, their embroidered lynxes watching from above.

The floor was polished stone veined with gold that reflected the evening light pouring through towering windows.

Everything felt old.

Not neglected.

Enduring.

As though generations of rulers had stood here before them and expected generations more to follow.

Mirabelle was waiting for them inside the throne room. Seated upon the ruling throne of the Duchess.

The throne seemed almost too large for her.

Somehow, that only made her appearance more striking.

For a brief moment, none of them remembered how to breathe.

She sat as though she belonged there.

As though she had spent her entire life giving orders from that seat.

One leg crossed elegantly over the other, she lounged against the throne as though it had always been hers.

The gown she wore looked as though it had been woven from liquid gold.

A daring slit ran up the length of her leg, revealing smooth skin with every slight movement.

The neckline plunged low, drawing the eye downward. The shimmering fabric wrapped around her body and flowed from her shoulders in graceful golden cascades.

Heavy bracelets of polished gold encircled her forearms like royal cuffs.

A delicate diadem rested atop her curls, taming just enough of them while allowing the rest to tumble freely around her shoulders.

Her golden eyes seemed brighter than usual.

Sharper.

More confident.

More dangerous.

Behind the throne, an enormous window stretched from floor to ceiling.

The setting sun poured through the glass.

Golden light flooded the room.

It gathered around the lynx female like a mantle.

Like a crown.

Like a blessing.

For one impossible moment, she did not look like a young noblewoman.

She looked like an Empress.

A ruler. A force capable of shaping the future itself.

And for the briefest of moments, the three males felt as though the Beast Goddess had granted them a glimpse of something yet to come.

Silas.

Kaelith.

Lucien.

As one, they stepped forward.

Then lowered themselves onto a single knee.

Mirabelle’s gaze moved slowly from one male to the next.

The sight sent an unexpected thrill through her. She had never demanded this from them.

Yet there was something deeply satisfying about knowing they acknowledged her position as the head of House Luchsenstein.

Not because she had forced them to.

But because they had chosen to.

"Silas. Kaelith."

The panther’s ears immediately focused on her.

Kaelith’s tail twitched.

Neither male looked away. Their entire attention remained fixed on Mirabelle.

On the female they wanted to follow for the rest of their lives.

"You came here to carry out an order. But I have no need for males who serve someone else."

The words landed like whip cracks.

Both males fought the urge to explain themselves. To justify. To prove their loyalty. To tell her she was wrong.

Yet beneath the hard gaze of the lynx female, neither spoke.

Because she was right.

They had come because their Queen had commanded it.

Neither they nor their Queen had anticipated that the heir of Luchsenstein would come to occupy so much space within their hearts.

Fear rose inside them.

The same fear and uncertainty that had haunted them for days.

The fear that the very command which had allowed them to meet Mirabelle might now be the thing that took her away forever.

Mirabelle saw the panic in their eyes.

She saw gold begin to freeze.

Saw red light darken.

Yet she showed no mercy.

This needed to be said:

"I want partners who stand beside me and act in my interests. I didn’t believe either of you could do that."

The tension in the room became almost tangible. Almost something one could taste.

Silas’ shadows stirred.

Kaelith’s feet dug into the floor.

Then Mirabelle continued.

"But you’ve proven me wrong."

The tension they had been carrying finally broke. Relief flashed across both faces so quickly that neither managed to hide it.

"Lucien."

The fox startled slightly when her attention settled on him.

A small, shameful part of him had enjoyed hearing Mirabelle criticize Zasar.

But her last words had awakened a different fear.

The fear that he wasn’t enough.

That he hadn’t done enough.

That he had somehow failed.

"At first, you approached me out of spite and responsibility."

Shame crossed his face.

She knew.

Of course she knew.

That had been the reason.

The reason he had approached her in the beginning.

But then so much had happened.

He wanted to speak. Wanted to reach for her. Wanted to explain.

Yet like the other two, he remained silent.

"I don’t want to be wanted simply because someone else shouldn’t have me."

The words struck their target perfectly.

Lucien lowered his eyes.

Then Mirabelle’s voice softened.

"I need partners who trust me.

Partners who challenge my thinking.

Partners who can convince me when I’m wrong."

A small smile appeared on her lips as his eyes met hers again.

"I believe you’re that kind of male."

Silas.

Kaelith.

Lucien.

Her gaze moved slowly between them once more.

And this time she truly looked at them.

Silas with his darkness, which he wore like armor.

Kaelith with his mischief, which he wielded like a weapon.

Lucien with his charm, which slipped past defenses before anyone noticed.

The three males who had somehow forced their way into every thought she had.

Every plan.

Every future.

Mirabelle drew a slow breath.

Then she made her decision clear:

"I want you as my mates."