Chapter 16 – The Lioness Claims Her Place
The night burned gold with firelight. Sparks rose into the dark like small, defiant stars, caught in the wind that carried the scent of roasted meat, sweat, and triumph. The entire Pride Circle had gathered to celebrate the hunt, though the mood felt less like a feast and more like a battlefield with wine instead of claws.
I stood at the edge of the fire ring, my new stripe glowing faintly on my shoulder. Every eye followed it when I moved. The males clustered close—Nox solid and watchful, Luka leaning on a spear with his usual lazy grace, Chyron spinning a half-empty cup between clever fingers.
"You should eat," Luka said. "Before the vultures finish admiring you."
"Admiring?" I arched a brow. "You mean staring."
Chyron laughed. "You can hardly blame them. You killed a beast twice your size and walked out glowing. They're trying to decide if they should fear you or follow you."
I stepped closer to the fire, the light catching the curve of my stripe. "Let them do both."
The words came out soft, almost playful, but the hush that followed was instant. A few of the nearby females stiffened. Even the drums faltered for a beat before resuming their low pulse. I could feel their jealousy like heat on the back of my neck, and for once, I didn't shrink from it. I turned my head just enough for them to see my smile—a warning wrapped in charm.
Nox moved beside me, his presence grounding but not sheltering. "You're stirring them."
"They need stirring," I said. "Still water breeds snakes."
Luka smirked, eyes glinting. "You enjoy this more than you admit."
"Maybe," I said, letting my gaze slide over him, over Chyron, finally settling on Nox. "But tell me, do you?"
Nox's mouth curved slightly. "I enjoy watching the Circle forget to breathe."
That made Chyron snort. "Careful, she'll start thinking she owns us."
I tilted my head, deliberately slow. "Start?"
The laughter that followed wasn't kind—it was sharp, edged—but I met every look with calm certainty. When I stepped closer to the fire, the crowd leaned in without realizing it. I raised my cup.
"Tonight," I said, my voice carrying easily across the gathering, "my stripe marks not just survival, but strength shared. These males fought beside me, bled for me, stood with me when no one else would. By right of the Circle, they stand under my mark now."
The words struck like lightning. Murmurs rippled through the assembly—some shocked, some approving, many offended. Claiming males publicly wasn't unheard of, but doing it so soon, with pride leaders watching? That was a challenge wrapped in silk.
One of the older females near the front lifted her chin. "A bold declaration for one with a single stripe."
I met her gaze evenly. "Every lioness starts with one. It's what she does with it that decides how many she keeps."
The crowd stirred again, a mix of amusement and warning. Nox said nothing, only watched me with that unreadable half-smile. When the drums began again, heavier this time, I caught his eye and raised my cup slightly.
"To the Circle," I said.
He echoed softly, "To the lioness who made it roar."
The music surged, the tension splintered, and the feast resumed. But under the laughter and the scent of smoke, I could feel the shift—the new lines being drawn, the silent vows being made.
Before the night ended, I passed close to Nox. "You didn't stop me," I murmured.
His answer was quiet but certain. "Why would I? The Pride just met its next storm."
I smiled, slow and deliberate. "Good. Let them learn to dance in it."