The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 113: Let the Game begin.

Andon watched them for a while, bearing a sheepish smile on his face as if he’d just interrupted something very important.

"May I come in?"

Yeren nodded, looking every bit the rescued damsel in distress.

Garelle curtsied even though Andon was clearly below her status.

"Lord Andon."

"Lady Plumette."

They exchanged brief glances before Yeren cleared his throat.

Taking the cue, Andon said, "I have something important to discuss with you."

Garelle nodded at both of them and left the room quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly.

"You look like you were suffocating." Andon said the moment the door closed.

Yeren walked back to his table and sat down.

"I was, indeed. I hope it wasn’t too obvious."

Andon waved his hand in the air, calming his fears. "Only someone that knows you very well would have a clue - and I just happen to be that person... except you plan on replacing me."

Yeren rolled his eyes.

"With who? You’ve had twenty one years to understand me - I don’t believe anyone else would ever have such a chance."

"But you seem to prefer Claire’s company to mine."

Yeren heaved a heavy sigh. "For entirely different reasons, Andon."

Andon grinned, filling the seat Garelle had just evacuated.

"What exactly did you come here for? Business or pleasure?"

"The latter, of course. Who would work after a whole day of travel?"

Yeren had already been reaching for the decanter.

"I also wanted to show you something."

Yeren cocked a brow, his gaze focused on the drinks he was pouring.

Andon reached inside his coat and produced a neatly folded parchment.

"A letter? I thought you said you didn’t come for business." Yeren said the moment he looked up.

Andon raised his palm up to silence him.

"Read it and decide what purpose it serves."

Yeren took the letter from him after handing a half-filled goblet, unfolded it carefully and browsed the contents.

It was a woman’s careful scrawl - like every single detail, every curve of her quill was painstakingly thought about.

When he finished reading, he set it down on the table carefully.

"This is very detailed."

Andon chuckled. "Detailed indeed." Then after a long pause, he asked, "Who do you think it is, Your Grace?"

Yeren looked up. "It’s obviously not a servant from the educated way the words are arranged and spelt. Most servants can’t even speak properly, much less write, so I doubt it would be a servant."

"A society woman? Who in her right mind would be smitten with a man who can neither marry nor beat children?"

Yeren cocked a brow. "One who admires, honesty, discipline, humour, charm... and a little sprinkle of good looks."

Andon scowled playfully. "A little sprinkle?"

Yeren gestured with his hands, grinning like an annoying child. "Perhaps, like this."

Andon reached across the table and swatted his hands, laughing despite his actions.

When the laughter died down, they sat in silence for a while before Andon said, "I do pity her."

"And why is that?"

"Because she’s wasting her precious time - whoever she is."

"Wasting her time? You understand that I can release you from your obligation to the Crown, don’t you?"

Andon’s brows drew together.

"Release me? You didn’t ordain me, no one did. And I don’t serve the Crown, I serve you."

Yeren blinked at how quickly the mood of the man across him had changed.

"And only you." Andon added as an afterthought.

"Even at the cost of your own happiness?"

"Nothing gives me more joy than seeing you alive everyday. The moment I step down from my position, you’d be on your way to see your father."

"Is there something you’re not telling me, Andon?"

Andon leaned back in his seat, his eyes cast towards the vaulted ceiling of the chamber.

"It’s no secret that there are attempts on your life - but it became a whole different case when you came then a bigger reason to hate you."

"And what reason is that?"

"The wolfless woman you installed as your Cupbearer."

He knew all too well that the council members saw her as a stumbling block in their plans, but why go through such lengths to make her miserable?

"What exactly are you saying?"

"That I’m not leaving you, especially now when you’re not thinking with your head anymore."

Yeren’s jaw tensed. "Normally, I would have the guards throw you out for such a stinging insult, but I have realized that I have become an idiot of late."

"I can’t agree more."

Yeren heaved a sigh, taking a quick swig of his drink along with it.

"A few days ago, I was certain that I would remove her as my Cupbearer, but now, the thought of not seeing her everyday is not something I can quench with wine."

"But you understand that your emotions are not of any relevance in this situation, Your Grace."

"I understand - which is why I should talk to her."

"Now? About what?"

"That is between the two of us, I believe." Yeren said, standing up.

Andon stood as well, dusting off nonexistent debris from his clothing.

"Nothing good would come out of a late night visit to a woman’s chambers - believe me on that."

"Who said I’m going to her chambers? Even I am not that desperate."

They parted ways at the grand hall while he sent a guard to fetch her.

Marius returned alone, claiming that she wasn’t in her chambers or her sister’s chambers.

Where was she then? He knew she didn’t know many people in the castle, so she wouldn’t be out for company.

The gardens, he thought. That had to be where she’d be.

They walked down to the gardens, splitting up into two parties when they didn’t see her.

Just as he was about the pass a well-pruned shrub of flowers, he heard a sob.

A woman’s sob.

His gaze flickered in that direction.

There were two silhouettes, one of a tall, bulky man and that of a small woman.

His heart matched the rhythm of the drums that were usually played during mating ceremonies.

He moved closer, completing forgetting about the guards that followed closely behind him.

The guard turned to look at him as he approached, his expression hidden by the darkness.

But one thing was clear, she was holding him like her life depended on it, and his hands remained limply at his sides.

"Miss Stenly." The guard tapped her back gently. She loosened her grip on his but still remained close.

Until she saw him.

Claire jerked away like she just saw a ghost.

"Yer... Your Grace. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

The guard nodded at both of them and disappeared into the night.

"I was feeling restless." She sounded breathless.

"Why?"

"It’s none of your business." She raised her voice slightly.

"Restless enough to tumble into the arms of any willing man?"

She began to speak but stopped.

"Is that what you think of me?"

"You don’t want to know what I think of you."

He saw her cross her arms across her chest.

"Why are you even here?"

He shifted on his feet.

"To talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"I only need your ears."

"I’m not your servant anymore so I don’t have to give you any heed."

His hands clenched without him realising it.

"And when did you decide that?"

"Someone has to. I’m not a piece of clothing that can be discarded when it is worn out."

"Stop putting words into my mouth."

"I’m getting married."

He blinked at the admission. "To who?"

She released one of her arms long enough to run it through her hair.

"To Zach."

Zach. The peasant boy.

"You can’t marry anyone until she have my approval."

"I don’t need your approval." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

He covered the space between them in two quick strides.

"Try me. Go ahead and marry him."

She gasped.

He held her jaw gently and turned her head until she looked at him.

Her breath caught as soon as his hands touched her warm skin.

She still wanted him. The thought nearly drove him insane. And he loved the way her responses were unfiltered and unguarded. He slid his thumb over her slightly wet lips, eliciting a soft sound from her.

"Stop trying to tempt me."

She wriggled beneath his hands. "And you should stop touching me."

His hand fell away.

Then, he spun on his heel and left her standing there.

She had no idea who she was trying to provoke, he said to himself.

Marry Zachary, over his dead body.

His guards filed out behind him.

If she thought she could provoke him... then he had to show her how much more he could do to her.

Until she’d beg for his touch.

And beg for his attention.

And beg to serve him wine.

A slow wicked grin curved his lips as he entered the building through the eastern entrance.

And those days would surely come if he had anything to say about it...