The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 59: A Mission

The carriage arrived at the Bronan residence. It was every bit as grande as she was led to believe and much finer than what her own home once looked like.

She didn’t remember it looking like that as a child.

The lawns and flower gardens surrounding were beautifully trimmed.

And the house itself was breath-taking.

The butler was waiting at the door to escort her.

"Welcome, Miss Stenly. The master has been expecting you."

She took his offered arm and allowed him to escort her into the building. The inside was thoroughly decorated, completely putting her tastes to shame.

Rows of portraits of the Bronan patriarch lined the walls that led up the stone stairway.

Candles were lit everywhere, bestowing a soft glow in everything it touched.

They passed the gallery before arriving at the dining hall. The dining table was very long - long enough to seat thirty guests by her count. But only two chairs were placed at the table, the others must have been removed.

A few maids stood around the table, waiting for a signal to serve.

"My lady." They chorused, skirting her curtsey.

She blinked, shocked that they were referring to her in such a way.

"I’m glad you finally made it." A voice said behind her.

She half-turned, waiting for him to come into her full view. His eyes glinted under the light of the chandelier.

"It’s my pleasure, my lord."

He gave her what she considered as his most dazzling and charming smile.

"Shall we?" He offered her his arm.

She looped her hand in his and let him lead her to the table.

Aldrich drew out a seat for her.

"Thank you." She muttered as she sat down.

She paid no heed to food serving. All she thought about was what he had to tell her.

He took his seat beside her and signalled for the servants to begin. Assorted dishes were laid on the table, but nothing as extravagant as what uncle Jarren and King Yeren had displayed in front of her.

"Dig in."

She picked up her spoon and sampled the turtle soup before her.

Quietly, all the servants left the room, closing the door behind them. She immediately thought of Terrence who was waiting outside for her.

"Some matters are too delicate to be discussed openly - no matter how discreet the setting may be." He began.

"I agree." She mumbled after taking a spoonful of the delightful soup.

"I believe you knew my father, Claire."

She nodded, although her mind was stuck replaying the way he said her name.

"I did."

His smile faded. "I hate to burden you with these things, but I need to talk to someone who’d understand. Someone who knows what it feels like to lose someone you loved dearly untimely."

She dropped her spoon beside the plate neatly. Why was he bringing up her father’s death?

"Do accept my condolences on your loss. I cannot begin to imagine what you are going through..."

"You can. Our fathers were killed, Claire. You know it, I know it. They didn’t just wake up and decide to die."

She averted her gaze, placing her shaking hands on her knees beneath the table.

"I have learnt to live with whatever did or did not happen, Aldrich. I advise you to do the same."

"Until what? I should sit back and do nothing until they kill me quietly, like they did to my father."

She pursed her lips. "You will attract a lot of attention if you oppose them publicly. They are men of great houses. If they gather against you, they could crush you effortlessly."

He leaned back against his chair. "I don’t intend to oppose them. My father used to tell me about his experiences in court when he was in the mood to talk. He was a very quiet man, he kept to himself most of the time. Your father was the only man he openly associated with, the only person I ever knew him to share his thoughts, and feelings with. And then, he died." He paused to catch his breath, staring across the table as if expecting his father to be seated there.

"When your father died, my father wanted to leave the council, but the King forbade it. He hated having to endure watching the others manipulate the young King, he’d tell me. On the day of the picnic, he sat with me instead of with the council. And when Redmare was rendering his ear-splitting song, he told me something about your father."

She didn’t realize she had leaned forward.

Aldrich poured himself a goblet of ale and downed it all in one swift gulp, setting the cup on the table with a loud thud.

"Your father told him that the late King was poisoned. And, they intended to kill Yeren as well shortly before he died. It was too much of a coincidence for a hale and hearty man to die three nights after discovering such information. My father was afraid he would share the same fate, so he cut off all association with your family. And now, he dies suddenly when he was lively and vibrant throughout the day?"

She picked up a goblet and filled it up with wine.

"Did the healer identify anything wrong with him?"

He shook his head. Then, he fished a little piece of parchment out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it with trembling hands and unfolded it.

It read: ’The sight of the blood moon beholds a world that begins anew. New shoots shall sprout and harvest shall end.’

"What does this mean?" She read it again.

"I have no clue myself. I found it in his brocade, tucked neatly."

Claire handed the letter back to him.

"You believe they killed our fathers? Do you think the King is among the conspiracy?" 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

He smoothed a hand over his jaw, staring up at the chandelier.

"Great wolves don’t die so pathetically, Claire. The late King, your father, and now mine? All our lives are in danger. The coming blood moon is only the beginning. As for the King, I highly doubt it. His head on a gold plate is what they want."

Her stomach folded inwards.

"So why are you telling me all of these? I cannot possibly do anything to help you."

His smoky grey eyes became serious all of a sudden, no longer distant and angry.

"You have eyes and ears in the court, don’t you?"

She nodded very slowly, afraid of what she knew he would say next. Claire prepared herself to refuse any sinister request on the spot - even if it meant an immediate death to their friendship.

"I want you to spy on everybody there. Including the King."