Ho-hum—another boring day. Kirastasia arched into a stretching position, spine crackling wonderfully and supple limbs flexing as she woke. If it hadn’t been for Rom keeping her entertained every so often, the heiress would probably have died from tedium DAYS ago. Carnival was nowhere to be seen. That dog Devil May Cry left his scent here and there, yet Kira had so far failed in pinning him down. Her brother . . . well, no telling what had happened to poor Kavik. Who else was there to play with? How was the lovely snow bird supposed to go on living when nothing ever happened?!

With a huff, the spoiled girl set off at a bouncy trot toward the borders. Keeping house wasn’t exactly Kirastasia’s “thing,” but SOMEBODY had to do it. Malignant may be dead as a limp skeleton, but Queens’ daughter would be damned if the territory rotted away altogether. She’d just rub herself up against a few trees, perhaps strew some carcasses along the invisible wall, and then—

Delicate paws thumped to an abrupt halt at the thunder of lyrics shaking the sky. A challenger? At this hour? Hmph—the princess would have to check this out. Couldn’t let just anyone waltz in and proclaim themselves king.

She slid with the grace of a serpent through the forest, stopping only a few body-lengths from the stranger standing outside the gates. He was enormous—great thick musculature and sleek brindled fur that hugged each masculine line of his body. His eyes glared proudly at her kingdom, as if already seeing himself wandering its halls.

“Hello, handsome,” Kira piped, bold and saucy as ever. She extricated herself further from her deciduous cover, blindingly white and irresistibly feminine. “Fancy a crown for yourself? You’ll have to go through me to get it . . .” Her brilliant maple-honey irises held a savage hunger to them. Her tongue swept out to slowly trace her velvet muzzle, gaze sweeping up and down the glorious knight before her.