The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 38: Private Chambers

"Forget myself? And how exactly would I do that?"

They reached the table and he pulled out a seat for her.

Andon winked at him, watching them from the corner of his eye. She sank into the seat, murmuring an inaudible thank you. Aurora caught her eye, seeming observant of her closeness to the king.

Then he sank into the chair next to her at the head of the table.

Yeren felt her tense as he took his place beside her.

"Have your pick." He gestured at the dishes scattered on the table.

The grilled venison and salted pork made her mouth water. And their sauces... they were simply divine.

Trying not to seem eager, she picked up the dish and took a little from it.

His eyes were glinting, possessing a knowing look that made her flush.

"I’ll have some." Andon took the dish from her.

She watched him fill her sister’s plate carefully, her eyes softening in a way it never did when she looked at him.

His grip on his fork tightened. When was she going to realize that he wasn’t the enemy?

Yeren knew he had many many questionable and unforgivable mistakes in the past - but her hatred towards him didn’t feel earned.

She stretched her legs beneath the table, slightly brushing his legs.

Their eyes met instantly before she pulled her legs away.

Andon glanced between them, resisting the urge to grin.

Yeren returned his attention to his half-filled plate.

"What’s your opinion on picnics, Miss Stenly?" Andon asked, his fork pausing halfway to his lips.

She glanced up, surprised by his question.

Aurora sat up straighter, dabbing at her lips with the napkin. He had to admit, the little girl had more table manners than any child her age he knew.

"May I speak my mind?"

"Yes, you may." He chuckled lightly, as if it was absurd for her to request permission to speak.

"Picnics had always been a private family affair - my father taught me that. Public picnics are new to me."

"Have you never been invited to a picnic hosted by the Crown?"

Aurora leaned forward, eyes bright, eager to hear about her older sister’s adventures.

"Once - when my father was still alive. I was fourteen at the time. I hadn’t liked it - it felt more like a market square or trade fair than a picnic. People were displaying their wares and harvests everywhere, chanting market cries and disrupting the silence that hovered just beyond our grasp." Her eyes went black, her mouth twisted in a scowl as if she was remembering some terrible event that had happened.

"You never told me that." Her little sister whispered.

"It never came up." She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

It seemed she didn’t like talking about the past.

Instinctively, his hand rested on her knee. His initial intention was to offer genuine comfort, but the way she shivered at his touch undid him.

Claire was attracted to him - worse, she wanted him. But, that was all it was. There were no tender feelings attached no matter how many angles he looked at it from.

Because he killed her father.

He made to snatch his hand away but hers covered his, holding it in place.

The warmth in her gloved hands gave him pause. Not once did she look at him.

What was she doing?

Yeren had only one hand on the table. He couldn’t possibly eat with one hand, without appearing suspicious.

Her hand on his was firm... almost tender.

"Lard?" Andon asked, holding a dish near her plate.

Claire immediately removed her hand, severing the contact.

His hand remained on her knee. Yeren forgot about his food. He was too engrossed in studying her actions.

And she was too busy trying to avoid confronting hers.

All through the dinner, she had maintained cordial and almost informal conversation with Andon and her sister. Anytime she was about to cross the line of formality, she checked herself.

Yeren, on the other hand, remained quiet, nodding only when he was directly spoken to.

Deciding to puncture her illusion of formality between them, he laid his hand on her knee.

Only that he didn’t stop there. His hand drifted ever so slowly along her thighs.

Claire’s fork clattered on her plate as she jerked.

"Is there a problem?"

She began to cough, a rough manufactured sound.

"It’s fine." She muttered when her act ended, moving her knee away from his reach.

He didn’t expect her to react like that.

When she did look up, all he saw was panic.

What was shs so afraid of? Him?

The thought made his blood run cold.

Before he could think properly, he pushed back his chair and stood up.

"Forgive me, but I shall retire early."

Her eyes shot up at my words, their gazes locking.

But, he wasn’t letting her go so easily.

"Do join me, Miss Stenly. I am thirsty for wine."

Andon didn’t miss a beat from the way his hawk eyes darted between both of them.

Claire flushed all the shades of red that existed.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace?"

The panic in her face was life-giving.

Andon chose not to spoil the moment, picking up a goblet and draining it just then.

He could see the battle in her mind. She was wondering how long she would stay, if he would touch her, and whatnot.

Slowly, she stood from the seat.

"Good night, Lord Andon." She curtsied.

A nod followed her brief acquiescence.

Then, she turned around the table and kissed her sister on the firehead, leaning lower to whisper something in her ear.

Everyone seemed to forget he could hear their heartbeat, breathing... what stopped him from eavesdropping on family gossip.

But the way her bodice dipped low was distracting.

"If anything happens to me... if I am not back come morning, write a letter to Zach - ask him to take you home."

Yeren’s lips tightened.

Did she think he would harm her?

She was his Cupbearer, for heaven’s sake.

And she finally joined him.

As soon as they left the table, servants rushed to clear their plates.

"Did you enjoy dinner?"

Her mouth twisted as though she was deep in thought.

"Yes. You... you barely touched yours." Her voice was strained, almost as if she was trying to stifle the concern in it.

"I didn’t have an appetite for anything they served." He let the words hang.

She looked at him, her eyes wide with shock.

"The table had almost every dish in Reden.’

"I wasn’t talking about food."

Her step faltered but his hand on her arm kept her steady.

The guards at the door filed behind them.

"What do you have an appetite for?" She feigned ignorance, choosing the long game.

He deliberately said nothing, choosing to let the silence fill the vacuum.

Claire gulped, using her free hand to smooth the fabric over her abdomen.

She was nervous. Which was good.

"Where are we going, Your Grace?"

He glanced at the rows of candles on candelabras that framed the walls, the paintings... anything but the woman on his arm.

"To my private chambers."

The shiver that rippled through her was intense. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

But it became worse when they arrived at the door.