The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 65: What is Wrong with the King?

"The King feels guilty?" She repeated, her eyes wide with shock.

Andon’s eyes hardened slightly.

"It’s childish behaviour for you to ignore the fact that you have been taken in, housed, clothed, only to bite the hand that feeds you, Miss Stenly."

Claire had to blink.

Why was Andon saying such things to her? Was the King angry with her?

She instinctively touched a hand to her chest.

"I am very grateful for the help his Grace has bestowed on me-"

"All words..." He shook his head.

"The past is hard to forget, my Lord."

"I understand that. But don’t hold it against a man who has clearly started war because of you."

She had to blink again.

He started a war because of her? She could understand a little misunderstanding with uncle Jarren and Moonstone because of her... but war? Wasn’t that pushing it too far?

"Forgive me, my Lord."

His expression softened. He had accomplished his mission, hadn’t he?

He turned to leave but stopped.

"And Miss Stenly," He called cooly.

She looked up expecting to say one more gut-wrenching truth.

"My Lord?"

"The King’s family will be arriving nigh an hour. We expect you to be available at the grand dining hall."

"I thought the King was indisposed."

"Not for his family."

Then he walked away.

What had she done to warrant such a careful warning? 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Sighing, she slipped into Aurora’s room.

Aurora was standing by the lit hearth, burning a piece of clothing.

The room was smoky, filled with the thick smell of burning fabric.

"What are you doing?" Claire remained by the door, still folding her arms.

"It’s not pretty enough."

"And how do you define pretty for a beginner?"

"It was a scarf for you." Rory sniffed. "It has to be very beautiful... like you."

Tears burned behind her eyes.

She went to where Aurora limply stood and pulled her into her arms. Then she took the burning fabric from her and tossed it deeper into the flames.

"I don’t need a scarf."

"Yes, you do. You always wanted one that the threads didn’t sing odes of your poverty."

Claire chuckled. "You’re becoming very blunt, Rory. I prefer you when you are sweet-tongued."

Rory gripped her two hands and pulled her to the bed.

Claire arched a brow at her sudden action.

"What is it?"

Rory’s eyes softened with worry.

"I noticed you were distant and troubled when you were with Zach. Tell me what happened."

Claire tilted her head.

Was it that obvious? Even Andon wouldn’t tell how the blasted King was doing. But she’d see him at the dining hall.

When she didn’t answer quickly enough, Aurora asked, "Did you find out that you’re with child?"

Claire’s jaw dropped. "That I’m with what? Rory!"

Her sister inched away, colouring sheepishly.

"Nothing..."

"It’s the King." Her voice betrayed her.

She was supposed to hate him. Especially in front of her sister, but she couldn’t help the worry she heard in her own voice.

"What happened to the King?" Rory’s eyes became two wide saucers.

"I don’t know. One moment he was fine... the next... he just... lost control and asked me to leave."

Rory gasped at the last part.

"Did you do something to upset him?" Rory asked, covering her hand with her small one.

Claire shook her head slowly, trying to imagine any scenario where she could have angered him without realising it.

"I had returned late..." She broke off, realising she was giving herself away.

What would Aurora think if she knew that she stayed overnight at Aldrich’s manor?

Her recent character was becoming questionable, Claire thought to herself.

Very questionable.

Maybe she was actually the one that needed to confess to the priest instead of Aurora.

"You returned late from where?" Then Rory folded her arms. "Don’t lie. I know you didn’t return to your room all through the night - because I went to look for you there and ended up sleeping there."

"I was serving the King."

Aurora raised a brow. "But you just said-"

She waved her off. "It doesn’t matter what I said or did not say, Rory. What matters is the King."

Concern flickered over the little girl’s face.

Claire felt a wave of jealousy flood through her. How could a man who destroyed her family weave his way into her sister’s heart in a few days?

What was so special about him?

And into your heart, a wicked voice whispered.

"I hope he feels better. Give him my best wishes when you see him at the dinner."

"Of course."

But Aurora saw through her.

"You wouldn’t tell him, would you?"

She didn’t bother answering.

"Claire? You have to be on good behaviour... for my sake."

"Why is that?"

"If the King sends you away, he sends me away too. The nightmares have stopped since I’ve been living here."

Claire brushed a strand of hair out of her sister’s face. What a fine young lady she was growing to become. She could tell that Rory would steal more hearts that she ever dared to.

If only she would have the opportunity.

"You should start preparing. What would you wear, Claire? You have to make a good first impression so the rumours won’t affect their perception of you."

Claire rubbed her eyes.

"You sound like my older sister."

Rory gave her hand a little squeeze. "Sometimes, older people need to be treated like children. You don’t have to be the adult all the time - it’s hard work."

She patted her sister’s head.

"If we’re both children, who will lead us?"

Rory just shrugged. "The King?"

Claire tilted her head.

"Why do you mention him?"

"Because he takes care of you very well."

Takes care of her? He does, doesn’t he?

Why did everyone keep reminding of how good he was? Some good doesn’t erase a lifetime of bad.

"I have to dress, as you said." She stood up, peeling her hand out of her sister’s grasp.

Aurora followed her with her round eyes.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Claire shook her head, refusing to look at her sister as she walked out of the room.

When she got to her room, there was a dress laid out for her. It was black, not green. But the design was... it was divine. The trimmings, the hems...

And it looked like it would fit her perfectly. If was upset with her, would he bother sending her a dress?

"Thank you." She whispered under her breath.

In a few minutes, her maids arrived to attend to her. If she had been a proper Lady, she would have been assigned a lady-in-waiting, but somehow the company of the four chatty women suited her better than any well-trained help.

"You have to stop wearing your hair the same way all the time. The King will grow tired of it."

Her mouth formed a perfect circle.

"He wouldn’t pay much attention to my hair. Besides, wearing my hair down suits me, doesn’t it?"

All the women exchanged glances like she’d just volunteered to wear a powdered wig.

When they were done with her, she couldn’t recognise herself.

But, she was just the Cupbearer. Why was she dressed like... the Queen?

Claire couldn’t help the colour that flooded her cheeks.

Everything felt too much. The boning of the dress made her waist look smaller than it actually was.

Breathing was a chore - a very tedious one for that matter.

All four of them escorted her to the stairs.

But, her heart stopped when she saw the same familiar frame standing at the bottom of the stairs.

The King? Why was he waiting for her?

Her lungs took a break.

The maids whispered among themselves and abandoned her.

Why won’t the servants gossip when their King was escorting his Cupbearer to a family event?

And, their eyes met.

His eyes were... golden?