The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 84: Differences

The boy backed away from the oven, his back slamming into the stone wall behind.

Claire could feel the heat radiating from the oven.

The boy stared at her with wide eyes, sweat beading on his forehead.

"How long does it take you to turn a single lever, Miss Stenly?" She heard Andon ask as he entered the Kitchens.

The boy darted a glance between her and the man coming up behind her.

Andon stood beside her, looking from her to the boy caged in the corner.

"What is going on?"

"I caught this boy pouring a white powder over the lemon cakes."

The boy began to shake his head.

"It was nothing bad! I swear it on my mama’s life!"

She blinked.

Nothing bad?

"Then what was it?" Andon asked.

The boy began to cry, shaking his head violently.

Claire went to the oven and pulled the trays out. The white powder had been absorbed by the batter, completely invisible to her.

"The cake is condemned." She whispered with a heavy sigh.

Andon grabbed the boy by the colour of his tunic and hefted him.

"The dungeons are a nice place for boys that do bad things."

"Instead," Andon suddenly said, "Why don’t you taste it for Miss Stenly?"

The boy paled, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

"Let him have a little bite." Andon said and winked at her.

Hesitantly, Claire scooped out a small chunk of the batter and handed it to the boy.

"Please, please..." The boy kept saying.

She was barely paying attention to what the boy said.

Everything Aldrich had said was beginning to happen.

Was it poison? If it was, were they trying to kill her sister or the King?

Killing the King would force her to take the blame - which made the most sense.

Andon laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

She managed a nod.

"Let me take him to the dungeons. After a day in the dark, he will tell me everything - down to the colour of his sender’s eyes."

Who would send a little child on such? She couldn’t even imagine Rory doing such a thing.

"Discard the cake before someone eats it. Then meet me at the Grand hall. We have to tell the King about this."

Having said that, he vanished through the large door.

The servants that had observed the whole thing began whispering among themselves.

Claire was tempted to leave the tampered batter to bake - so that the gossiping servants would learn a terrible lesson.

But, she removed it and tossed it out the window.

Her dress was covered in flour at the front, making her look like an untidy little girl.

Did she go back to change her dress? After all, she was going to see the King, wasn’t she?"

Andon was coming up a stairway as she entered the Grand hallway. The large marble stone pillars never ceased to amaze her every time she entered the hall.

"I learnt the King is not busy." He surveyed her dressing with a small grin.

"Dust yourself off, would you?"

Colouring, she tried beating the powder off her dress. Only a little percentage came off.

"That should suffice." He said when she looked up at him expectantly.

The journey to the study was a long and quiet one.

Neither of them spoke. They were each trying to find the best way to convey their news to the King without alarming him.

"Let me start." Andon said, his hand on the knob of the door.

She had to let Aldrich know about it somehow.

Claire gulped as she followed Andon into the elegant room.

Her eyes roamed, fixing on its target with tailored precision.

Except that he wasn’t alone. He was close enough to kiss the woman in front of him... and he was rubbing her arm.

Why was her sleeve torn?

It instantly reminded her of her torn dress.

Except that she hadn’t had any claw marks on her arm.

The woman covered her exposed arm, moving to take shelter behind Yeren.

"Pardon me, Your Grace. I thought you were alone." Andon said.

Their eyes met and locked. His hand fell away from the woman’s shoulder quietly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Where is the cake you promised to bring?"

She looked down at her empty hands.

"That’s why we came." Andon chipped in.

The woman took her torn sleeve from the King and left the room after gracing them with a brisk curtsey.

Yeren perched himself at the edge of the table, still watching her through the corner of his eye.

"She finally admitted to not being able to bake?"

Claire raised a brow at him.

Andon grinned at the King’s attempt at humour.

The woman was his bride, she kept telling herself. What happened or did not happen was none of her blasted business.

"I wish that were the case, Your Grace. But as it is, the cake was poisoned."

The King’s head snapped up. "By who?"

"We don’t know for now. A little boy was caught pouring something in the cake on the stove. I have detained him in the dungeons."

The King ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath.

"I don’t even know who might have sent the boy." He whispered.

Claire stepped back.

"Should I bake another cake?"

Both men looked at her.

"No. Have some cake with me instead."

Andon cleared his throat.

"Miss Stenly has to see to her sister, Your Grace."

Yeren raised bored eyes to his first man.

"Her duty is by my side. Assign maids to look after her sister."

Claire blinked.

Andon glanced over his shoulder at her.

She knew he wanted her to find a polite reason to escape the King’s company, but for some reason, she wanted to stay.

The King could be poisoned, and the blame would go to her.

"I would be honoured, Your Grace."

Andon threw his hands and started walking away.

"Whatever you do, don’t get her with child." He said as he left.

The windows rattled as he slammed the door behind him.

She returned her attention to the man at the other end of the room.

"He keeps treating me like a child who doesn’t know his left from his right." She heard him mutter.

She was as red as a cherry, burying her sweaty palms in the folds of her dress.

With child? For the King? The heavens forbid!

"Does the idea of having my child repulse you so much?" He asked out of the blue.

Claire blinked several times.

"Did I say so?"

"It’s written on your face very clearly."

She gulped. "Perhaps, I do find it repulsive, then."

His jaw tensed.

"You didn’t find my touch repulsive if I remember correctly."

She unconsciously touched a hand to her heart.

"Those are two different things."

He crossed his ankles and stared at her. "How different are they?"

"This conversation is very inappropriate, Your Grace."

He had the decency to look away.

"Serve me wine."

She moved to attend to the task.

Claire brought the wine to him. Their fingers brushed as he took the goblet from her.

She tried to move away when she realized she was standing too close to him. And in between his now-spread legs for that matter.

"Do you really want to know the difference?"