The Ugly Duckling Of The Tiger Tribe-Chapter 302: I am not moving, Land-Warrior

"I’m the Queen because I do what’s necessary, not what’s easy," I declared, my voice ringing out clearly. "If you want to blame someone for the state of the kingdom, look at the mess we’re cleaning up. But if you try to sabotage our future by spreading lies about my household... you’ll find out very quickly how sharp this tiger’s claws are. Be warned."

I saw the tawny wolf shift her feet, looking suddenly unsure and trying to retreat.

Yeah, that’s the fear they should have.

"I will be a queen who looks after her people, and I will be a queen who does what is best for the greater good. But being a queen doesn’t mean I have to give up my own happiness, and my own private life just to satisfy the likes of you."

I dropped my hand on her shoulder and glared right into her soul.

"Now," I said, my tone shifting to something cold and final. "Go back to your pups. Be the mothers you claim to be and do not appear before me with the intent to start a fight, because I will definitely give you that fight."

Her legs gave out, and she dropped down, trembling. Her face had gone pale, as if she had seen a ghost, and I shrugged.

That wasn’t me.

She fell on her own.

I didn’t wait for anyone to say anything else and turned my back on them and walked into the tent, my heart finally slowing down.

"That was... impressive," Noah murmured as he followed me in, looking at me with a new kind of heat in his eyes.

"I just want to sleep, Noah," I groaned, dropping onto the furs. "And help me find something to cover up the fish. Please. I’ll just nap for a bit."

Before Noah could respond, I think the drowsiness took hold of me in an instant and dragged me off to sleepy town.

While I drifted into a much-needed blackout, the tent was far from quiet. Noah stood over me for a moment, a soft, almost reverent look on his face, before he turned to the two predators and the half-naked merman standing awkwardly by the entrance.

"You heard the boss," Noah whispered, his voice low but leaving no room for argument. "Time to cover up the merfolk."

Soon, after about an hour or two, I woke up to the sound of heavy breathing and the unmistakable scent of hide and salt. I didn’t open my eyes immediately, savoring the warmth of the furs and the satisfaction that came with a nice nap, but the hushed, aggressive whispering nearby made it impossible to stay in sleepy town for long.

I opened my eyes, my eyes glancing to the very point of the hushed whispers.

The tent looked like a disaster zone of discarded hides, and in the center of the room, Thalor was standing as still as a statue while Noah and Fenric worked on him like he was a difficult construction project.

"Stop moving," Fenric grumbled. He was on his knees, trying to wrap a sturdy, dark-brown leather skirt around Thalor’s waist. "You’re as slippery as a wet eel."

"I am not moving, Land-Warrior," Thalor replied, his voice calm despite being manhandled. "It is the air that is heavy. This skin... it is thick. How do you breathe through your hips?"

"You do not breathe through your hips," Noah said dryly. He was holding a pile of linen wraps, trying to figure out how to transition the merman’s ’look’ from naked god to a slightly less handsome suitor so I probably don’t fall for him. "You just wear it so my wife doesn’t have a heart attack every time you stand up."

I shifted slightly, and my gaze drifted to the corner.

Damar was sitting by the tent opening, his back on the clay wall as he cradled Lyra in one arm while the other two cubs tumbled over his shoulder. He wasn’t helping. He wasn’t even speaking. He was just watching the makeover with a cold, detached expression, his emerald eyes tracking every movement Thalor made.

Every time Thalor’s tanned muscles rippled as he flexed the skirt tied around his hips, Damar’s tongue would flick right out, hissing in detest.

He looked like he was memorizing Thalor’s vitals just in case he needed to hit them later and take him out in one strike.

"Lift your leg," Fenric commanded.

Thalor complied, but since he was used to floating rather than standing on two pillars of bone, he wobbled when he placed his waist on one leg. He instinctively reached out to steady himself, his hand landing right on Fenric’s shoulder.

Fenric froze. He looked at the hand, then up at Thalor’s face, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"Hands off!" he hissed.

Despite helping, he did not like Thalor. For one, he was too attractive with just the right face and hot body to make me swoon, and for another, he had declared his soul belonged to me.

Those were enough reasons to put him in the list of males to watch out for.

Thalor looked at Fenric’s disgruntled expression and then let go, finally positioning himself on one leg, like a pro.

"Touch me again, and you’ll find out how we gut fish on land."

"My apologies," Thalor said, though he didn’t look sorry at all. He looked calm, with a bit of fascination in his eyes, as if he was genuinely curious about how we gut fish.

Come to think of it, what do mer folks eat in the sea?

Do they eat fish?

Hm, I wonder.

If it’s not fish, then is it squid? What about jellyfish?

Still, they were all a variety of fish, weren’t they?

But if they do eat any of that, isn’t that the same as them eating their own kind? Will they be referred to as cannibals then?

Ah, why am I even thinking about this so deeply? I’ll just ask him later and hear what he has to say.