Are Beast Nobles Supposed to Be This Lewd?

Mirabelle followed.

Or attempted to.

The square was packed tightly enough that she could feel bodies brushing past her from every direction. Fur occasionally tickled her arm. Tails moved between legs. Voices overlapped until individual conversations dissolved into one enormous, cheerful hum.

But something strange happened whenever people noticed her.

The crowd opened.

Not dramatically. Nobody shouted for everyone to move. People simply stepped aside. A gap formed before her, then another, smiles and small bows following her as she passed.

Mirabelle suddenly understood how Kaelith was moving through the crowd so easily.

They weren’t making room for him. They were making room for her.

"Duchess!"

Someone raised a cup toward her. Mirabelle laughed and raised an empty hand in return.

Music swelled from somewhere nearby.

A child raced across the opening ahead of them, colorful ribbons tied around his tail, another child chasing him while both shrieked with laughter.

Mirabelle breathed in.

Smoke.

Spices.

Hot food.

Flowers.

Sun-warmed stone.

Hundreds of Beastmen packed together beneath colorful ribbons and lanterns, celebrating something that still didn’t quite feel real.

Her.

Her rule.

Her future.

Mirabelle looked at the people around her. Then down at the heavy signet ring on her finger. Somewhere deep inside, the white current pulsed quietly.

Luchsenstein.

For once, Mirabelle didn’t reach for it. Today, she didn’t need to feel the land beneath her feet.

She could see it all around her.

Living.

Laughing.

Celebrating.

And frying something that smelled absolutely incredible. Mirabelle quickened her steps.

Priorities!

Kaelith stopped so abruptly in front of one of the stalls that Mirabelle nearly walked into his back.

She leaned around him.

Several long metal skewers rested above a carefully controlled fire, slowly turning over the glowing coals. Thick strips of meat had been wrapped around them, their edges already browned and crisp while fat dripped into the flames below with an occasional hiss.

Every few moments, the Beastman behind the stall dipped a broad brush into a clay bowl and generously coated the meat.

The sauce immediately began to bubble against the heat.

Mirabelle inhaled.

Honey.

Definitely honey.

But there was something else in it. Several spices she couldn’t identify, something smoky, something slightly sharp, and a fragrance that reminded her vaguely of citrus without actually smelling like any fruit she knew.

Her mouth watered.

"Oh my..."

Kaelith glanced over his shoulder:

"This?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation whatsoever.

"This!"

The stall owner had been concentrating on his skewers, but when he finally looked up, his attention landed on Kaelith first. Then he noticed the female peeking around the enormous hyena Beastman. His eyes widened.

"Duchess!"

Mirabelle smiled.

"Hello."

The male’s entire face lit up.

Before she could say anything else, he reached for three finished skewers resting near the edge of the grill.

"Here! These just came off."

Kaelith reached for his money. The stall owner recoiled as though he’d been personally insulted.

"No, no, no!" He waved both hands. "Our Duchess doesn’t pay!"

"You don’t have to — " Mirabelle began.

"I insist."

There was so much pride in his expression that Mirabelle stopped arguing. Kaelith apparently reached the same conclusion, slowly lowering his hand again.

Mirabelle accepted the skewers. They were still radiating enough heat that she had to shift her grip slightly.

"Thank you. They smell incredible."

"No, Duchess." The Beastman’s expression softened. "Thank you."

Mirabelle blinked.

"For what?"

"For your mother’s reign."

The cheerfulness in his face remained, but something more sincere entered his voice.

"My family has done well under your mother’s rule. We have food. My children are healthy. Business is good." He gestured vaguely toward the crowded square around them. "We live well here."

Mirabelle’s smile faded into something quieter.

The Beastman inclined his head.

"I hope your reign will bring us the same."

For a moment, Mirabelle didn’t know what to say. Then she looked down at the heavy golden ring on her finger.

"I hope so too."

She meant it.

Probably more than he could know.

The Beastman smiled again, apparently satisfied.

Mirabelle looked at the skewer in her hand. Then she bit into it. CRUNCH. Her eyes widened.

The outside had formed a thin caramelized crust that cracked beneath her teeth before giving way to incredibly tender meat underneath. Sweetness hit her first, followed almost immediately by salt, smoke and a warm mixture of spices that spread across her tongue.

The meat was ridiculously juicy.

Mirabelle stopped chewing.

’Oh.’

Oh, that was good.

Her eyes nearly closed on their own. After everything that had happened since early morning, the ceremony, the forest, the Core, magical healing water, mysterious powers, Pebbles informing her that she’d accidentally started a cult —

This might genuinely be the most emotional moment of the day.bShe swallowed.

"I could cry."

The stall owner laughed, looking immensely pleased with himself.bMirabelle immediately took another bite.

Something tugged lightly at her dress. She looked sideways.

Lucien stood beside her, arms still completely occupied by flowers, stones, feathers, beads and assorted treasures bestowed upon her by Steinstein’s children.

He had somehow managed to free exactly two fingers, which were currently pinching the fabric at her upper arm.

His green eyes moved toward the skewer.

Then back to her.

"Can I have some?"

Mirabelle instinctively pulled the skewer closer to herself.

"No."

Lucien stared at her.

Mirabelle stared back.

Then her gaze dropped.

Flowers.

Striped stone.

Feather.

Acorn.

Several things she had already forgotten the origin of. All carefully balanced against his chest because she had given them to him.

Mirabelle sighed.

"Fine."

She held the skewer toward his mouth.bLucien immediately leaned forward and bit off a piece.

His eyes widened.

Mirabelle watched his expression change as he chewed. Then something moved behind him.

His tail.

Once.

Twice.

Then it began swaying from side to side with considerably more enthusiasm.

Mirabelle grinned.

"Good?"

Lucien swallowed.

"Another bite."

"No."

His tail stopped.

Mirabelle turned away before his expression could weaken her resolve. And found Kaelith watching them.

Right. Fairness....

As Duchess...no, as a mate, Mirabelle had responsibilities:

Equal treatment.

Justice.

Avoiding favoritism.

Very important principles of governance...

...and poly-relationships.

She solemnly held the skewer toward Kaelith.

He looked at it, then at her. Mirabelle wiggled it slightly.

"Come on."

Kaelith leaned down and took a bite. He chewed. His expression remained considerably more controlled than Lucien’s, but the pleased rumble deep in his chest betrayed him.

Mirabelle nodded.

Yes. Excellent.

Equality had been restored.

Kaelith turned around.

"Six more," he told the stall owner.

The Beastman laughed and immediately began collecting them. Once again, he tried to refuse payment. This time Kaelith didn’t allow it.

Mirabelle left the two males to argue over the fundamental economic principles of whether a Duchess’s mate was allowed to pay for grilled meat and looked farther across the market.

Then she remembered something.

"Oh!"

She turned toward Lucien.

"I saw someone selling baskets over there. Come on. We’re getting one before you drop someone’s priceless rock."

"I would never."

"The yellow flower is already falling."

Lucien looked down sharply. Mirabelle caught it before it escaped.

"Basket."

"...Basket."

They found the stall only a short distance away.

Woven baskets hung from hooks and stood in stacks across several tables, ranging from enormous things intended for harvesting crops to small decorated ones that Mirabelle suspected were mostly meant to look pretty.

She chose a medium-sized one with a sturdy handle and a simple woven pattern around its rim.

This time, she insisted on paying. Mostly because she suspected that if word spread that the new Duchess didn’t have to pay for anything, she would spend the entire festival arguing with every merchant in Steinstein.

Lucien transferred his collection into it with almost ceremonial care. The striped stone went at the bottom. The flowers on top. The feather was tucked safely along one side. Even the acorn received a place.

When the last gift was finally inside, Lucien straightened. Then he exhaled. Deeply.

Mirabelle laughed.

"Better?"

"I can move my arms again."

"You’re welcome."

Lucien gave her a look. Before he could answer, Kaelith returned. He was carrying considerably more meat than Mirabelle remembered requesting.

She narrowed her eyes.

"How many did you buy?"

"Enough."

That wasn’t a number.

Kaelith handed two skewers to Lucien. Any lingering complaint immediately vanished from the fox’s face.

One hand wrapped around the basket.

The other accepted both skewers. His tail started moving again.

Mirabelle looked suspiciously at Kaelith.

He still had several more.

Apparently, he’d bought six additional skewers — three intended for himself and three for Lucien — while quietly waiting to see whether Mirabelle would finish her original three before offering her more.

She decided not to comment. Mostly because her mouth was full. And so, for a little while, they simply stood there. In the middle of the chaos.

Music played somewhere behind them. A group of children raced past, shrieking with laughter. Colorful ribbons fluttered overhead, and warm sunlight filtered between the lanterns strung across the square.

The air smelled of smoke, honey, spices and a dozen other dishes Mirabelle still intended to investigate.

Lucien stood beside her with a basket full of children’s treasures in one hand and grilled meat in the other. Kaelith was happily working his way through his own collection of skewers.

Mirabelle took another bite and looked around.

Her people.

That thought still felt strange.

But less strange than it had this morning.

She watched an elderly couple sharing something from a paper-like wrapper. A group of young females were laughing so hard near a jewelry stall that one had to hold onto the other. Two merchants were loudly debating something across neighboring stands while neither looked genuinely angry.

Mirabelle smiled. Then her gaze moved across the crowd — and stopped.

Someone stood on the other side of the square.

Someone she knew.

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