The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 12: Personal Invitation

He stood by the window drinking a goblet of wine. It was early for wine, but he craved it terribly.

Miss Stenly was coming to offer him a formal invitation to her farce of a marriage. His mouth tightened - as if he would attend.

Maybe, he just might.

And her name was Claire.

The sound of neighing horses and wheels scratching over the cobblestones drew his undivided attention.

The sky seemed sad after weeping through the whole night. No ray of sunlight shone through.

"Your Grace, young Lord Straught and his betrothed to see you." Andon called at the entrance of his receiving chambers.

He hadn’t entertained the idea of receiving guests in the throne room - it sounded childish and mediocre.

The boy emerged through the doorway first. The tension in his handsome face was obvious to any onlooker.

Then, she walked in. He set his goblet on the table and walked forward. Something in his stomach tightened.

She didn’t look like herself. She was too pale - and he could see the tear tracks she had wiped away staining her cheeks.

Her gaze never met his.

He searched for a word he could use to describe her. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Broken.

Her dress was a sombre blue with gold trimmings and long, embroidered sleeves.

Her hair was pinned up in an intricate style he had seen among many women at court.

"Wine?"

The boy fell to his knees and she followed suit.

"Pardon us, Your Grace, but we desire no refreshments. We only ask that you..." The boy ran his hands along his brocade, searching for something.

Slowly, the boy turned to look at her.

That’s when Yeren fully caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were now a dull green - not the bright and fiery green he remembered.

They whispered among themselves, both flushing dark shades of red.

"Your Grace, your servant forgot something. I beg leave of you to retrieve it."

She rose to follow the boy out but the boy stopped her.

"I won’t be long." He said and vanished through the doorway.

Yeren didn’t move - although he wanted to.

"You seem different."

She didn’t respond. Her hands buried themselves deeper in the folds of her dress.

"Claire."

Her gaze shot up. "Don’t call me that." It was more of a strangled plea than a command.

Then she curtsied as if remembering her manners. "Your Grace."

Andon and the four guards stationed in the chambers remained.

"What should I call you?"

"Miss Stenly, Your Grace. I am to be married soon."

Her voice shook, he noticed. Part of him wanted to pull her closer and embrace her. She seemed on the verge of tears.

He moved towards her in slow yet deliberate strides. Then, without warning, he grabbed her arm and rolled up her long sleeve.

Just as he expected, her wrists were bruised. Long sleeves always had a story to tell when the woman’s face was looking the way hers did.

His jaw clenched. She snatched her hand away and drew the sleeve over her hands.

"Who did that to you?"

She averted her gaze.

"Was it him?"

Turning on his heel, Yeren returned to the window.

Did he force himself on you?"

"That is none of your business, Your Grace."

He swiveled gracefully, pinning her with a cold stare.

"Would your father agree to that?"

Her lips trembled. "Leave him out of this. You are not worthy to speak of him, Your Grace."

Andon moved forward to restrain her for speaking so boldly to the King but he stopped him with a flick of his hand.

"Let her be, Andon. Honesty is refreshing after dining with liars for the duration of my life."

Turning to her, he said, "Yeren. It’s not difficult to say, is it?"

He saw her throat tighten.

Andon reluctantly moved back to his station.

The young Lord rushed into the room holding a sealed letter in his hand.

Andon retrieved it from him and took it to Yeren.

Without taking his eyes off the pair before him, he opened it.

The scribble inside was anything but neat - it was legible at best.

"It would be an honour, Your Grace."

Yeren nodded.

"Perhaps it will."

The boy beamed at his words.

He hated seeing her like this. What was her uncle doing to her?

If only she would trust him enough to tell him.

Lord Rodick appeared at the doorway, bowing to the King.

"A word, Lord Straught?" Rodick said to the boy.

Nodding, the boy disappeared again.

Yeren couldn’t give two figs about what they wanted to talk about.

His attention was on the woman before him.

"The sky is a bit sad, don’t you think."

She glanced out the window. "It doesn’t have any reason to be happy."

He raised a brow. "Why is that?"

"The people it shelters do not deserve its warmth and smiles."

He sank into a cushioned chair.

"Then who does? If the sky was so judgemental, we would be left to drown in the darkness."

Her eyes darkened. "Some more than others."

He laughed, patting the space beside him.

Surprisingly, she perched herself on the edge farthest away from him.

"Why did he hurt you?"

"Why do you care?"

It was his turn to look away. "I don’t know."

She tilted her head. "Then, I don’t know either."

The faintest hint of a smile curved her lush lips.

"Your bruises don’t heal."

Her shoulders sagged slightly.

"I’m afraid I don’t have a wolf."

His breath caught at the way she sounded so hopeless.

Her eyes looked glassy and haunted up close.

"Your uncle is a-"

"Kind and generous man, Your Grace."

He nodded.

"Very well. But, I warned you."

She leaned forward, close enough for him to smell the perfume in her hair.

"You started this. Killing my father wasn’t enough. If you want to be kind to me, stay away from me. You don’t owe me anything, neither do I."

His eyes hardened.

"Oh, but you do."

Her brows creased in confusion.

"I didn’t collect my reward for saving you... twice."

She scoffed. "You have no honour."

He grinned.

"Not with women I want."

Her eyes dropped to his lips, he noticed, before they flicked away.

"I will leave now." She said and rose up, dusting herself.

He rose as well.

"Please don’t come to the engagement... Yeren."

She turned and left in a rustle of long skirts. The sound of her slippers scuffing along the marble floor echoed throughout the room.

He watched her leave.

At the door, she glanced over her shoulder briefly before disappearing through the door.

She had called him by his name. He wanted to hear it again.

She didn’t want him to come for the engagement. And, she had accused him of causing trouble for her.

Was her uncle hurting her because of him?

"More wine." He told Andon.

"You’ve had enough-"

"I haven’t. I’ll decide when I’ve had enough."

The man poured a generous amount into his goblet and sealed the lid.

"Leave her alone, Your Grace. Her uncle is not your problem."

Yeren spared him a brief glance.

"And what is my problem? If his son marries her, they can reclaim the land that was taken from her father through a trial."

Andon ran a hand through his hair.

"That is still not your problem, Your Grace."

"Even when it’s clear that they plan to use her? You saw her wrist, didn’t you?"

The older man had the sense to look flustered.

"I did. But, she is betrothed now. You can’t help her. Giving her too much attention would have its toll on both of you."

Yeren sipped his drink, savouring the cool taste.

"So?"

"Think about her reputation, Your Grace. If you insist on involving yourself, you must declare intentions to marry her. And... she’s wolfless."

Yeren flinched slightly.

"There are other ways to help a damsel in distress that do not involve marriage."

Andon chuckled.

"Aye, there are - but they are not noble ways, Your Grace. Besides, she is no damsel in distress."

It was Yeren’s turn to laugh.

She was a wolf through and through.

"So what do you intend to do?"

Yeren stared down at his cup.

"Nothing."

Andon raised an eyebrow.

"Pardon?"

"You’ll do the work. I need to know what she’s going through so I can strike her where she’s most fragile. We can’t help her if she won’t let us. And she’ll only let us if we give her no other place to turn to."

"Are you asking me to spy on her?"

"No. I want you to place a spy inside the house. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done."

"Yes, Your Grace."