13. Cole

As I was closing my laptop, an email arrived from Raine.

With my hand gripping the lip, I was tempted to close it, saying I hadn't seen it. But I caught the word "portrait" in the subject heading. Henri might like that, us dressing up and having an artist paint us.

Unlike in medieval times, a portrait painter wasn't a permanent fixture in the palace, but artists were hired for individual projects. Father was probably eager to get it complete so he could have a "hanging" ceremony, so I opened the email.

"What? How could that be?" I reread the attached message as Henri looked up from the magazine he was reading. "Father had someone paint our portraits from photos taken at our wedding."

Henri made a face. "Seriously? I'm not eager to see it because I was looking down most of the time, wondering what I'd gotten myself into, and when I glanced up, I probably resembled a frightened rabbit—no offense to bunny shifters."

Raine hadn't attached an image, so I could only rage at the decision and not inspect the finished work.

"We've been invited to view it." It was in one of the state rooms, and while Henri was reluctant to see it, I coaxed him by bribing him with cake and ice cream, the latter made fresh every day in the palace kitchen.

"Well." He wavered and put aside the magazine. "If you put it like that." He had declared earlier that the ice cream was the best he'd ever had.

We held hands as we strolled down the huge marble staircase, and I wondered how long it had taken the craftspeople centuries ago to hack out the marble from its source, craft it into blocks, and install it in the palace. I sent them a silent thank-you and hoped they were resting easy with the goddess.

The portrait sat at the back of the room, covered with a large piece of cloth. Raine bustled in, his lips set in a straight line, no doubt because I hadn't informed him we were here, though someone had.

He stood beside the portrait, and I asked why we hadn't been asked to pose.

"The king wanted this done with a minimum of fuss."

He flung off the cloth, and it fluttered to the floor as he gestured toward the portrait as if saying, "Ta-da." But his face fell as my mate and I stared at the painting.

His frown became a scowl as if our reaction was an insult to him personally. He pursed his lips, and his eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry, Raine, but I'm sure you agree this is not up to the standard of previous portraits of just-married heirs."

I indicated my ancestors' portraits lining the walls. To be honest, most of them were scowling, possibly because they were hot, or wanted to be somewhere else or with someone else. Papa appeared to be about to flee, so perhaps not that different from Henri's expression. But if I knew anything about my father, he would not have entertained a request to redo the portrait.

"My husband and I are willing to sit for a new portrait." I glanced at Henri. "Today?" He nodded. "If you can get the artist here this afternoon."

My father's private secretary's eyes bulged and tinged with red, but he kept it together and nodded before stalking off. After lunch, which included huge scoops of ice cream, slathered with cream and chocolate mint sauce, we returned to the state room as the artist was setting up his easel and paints.

He bowed and Henri responded with a nod. He was getting used to the customs of monarchy. Father expected people to grovel and didn't acknowledge it.

Raine hovered around with a tablet, saying we didn't have much time and we'd need more than one sitting. An array of cloaks and crowns were laid out, and Raine huffed and puffed as he waited for us to choose.

I caught Henri's eye and stifled a giggle. While I didn't know what he was thinking, I pictured the wolf in the human fairy tale, The Three Little Pigs. If my mate had never read those tales, I would have to introduce them to him.

With Henri seated and me standing beside him, we spent an hour while the artist studied us and sketched us. The next session he would be slapping paint on the canvas.

Raine hurried us out as we thanked the artist, saying we'd see him next week. A new ambassador was presenting his credentials, and the king had requested our presence. I apologized to Henri as we got changed and were whisked back downstairs.

"It is always like this?" he whispered as I stood beside father and Henri was on my other side.

"Pretty much." I was adept at talking and hardly moving my lips so the reporters in the room couldn't lipread. We shook hands and smiled at the ambassador and her shifter mate, and then we were bustled out of the room, as it had to be set up for another function. Thank gods we were not expected to attend, and I ordered dinner to be sent to our room.

"It's an interesting life, Cole."

I didn't miss his emphasis on the word "interesting." It was something, but we could make it our own, create charities and work toward a goal, something that would improve the lives of our people. I hated the word "subjects" because that suggested they were subjected to our will, and that hadn't been true for centuries. The government ruled the country, we were just the pomp and glitz.

Henri yawned as he made his way to his adjoining room. I took a chance and asked if he'd like to share my bed. "Just to sleep in." My beast did the bear equivalent of rolling his eyes, but my mate had been thrown into this new life, and I wasn't about to do the same with our relationship.

Easing him in was my method, no matter how much I wanted him naked.

Henri paused, his hand on the door. "Okay."