The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 13: Mate Dance

Dinner was a silent affair that evening. Uncle Jarren was in a better mood, munching away at his food with a smile on his face.

Claire, who was doomed to always sit by his right hand, stabbed at her chicken.

She hadn’t told her sister what happened between them - and she wasn’t planning to.

"So... tell me how the meeting with the King went."

She and Arlan exchanged glances over the table.

"He wasn’t displeased." Arlan said.

Her uncle glanced at her.

"Would he be coming?"

"No." Claire quickly said.

His gaze narrowed. "Interesting." He murmured.

Aurora ate quietly, her eyes planted solely at her food. No playful smiles directed at Arlan, no cheeky grins, nothing.

Tears stung Claire’s eyes.

"The tradition demands that the engagement be done beneath a full moon. That means, you both have to learn the mate dance."

Claire winced. The mate dance wasn’t something people learned. It came as naturally as breathing when bonded to your fated mate.

Except, Arlan wasn’t her fated mate.

She had rejected her actual fated mate.

"Lord and Lady Rodick’s eldest son will be having his mating ceremony on the night after tomorrow. I want you both to attend and observe the dance. We’ll be the laughingstock of the Kingdom if you fail to do the dance properly."

Claire twisted her knife in meat before her. She would be damned if she learnt the stupid dance.

"Uncle, I beg your leave to return to my room." She said at last.

Aurora finally looked up from her meal. Arlan coughed.

Uncle Jarren stopped eating, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

"You have not touched your food." His voice was calm, too calm.

Claire stiffened. "I am not hungry."

He dropped his knife. The sound of clattering cutlery filled the room.

"And why is that? Are you ill?"

"Yes."

His eyes darkened. "Go, then. I will have the pack doctor look at you in the morning."

Without wasting a second, Claire rushed up to her room. The deaf maid followed not long after.

The quiet woman carried on as usual, but she seemed more... present. More aware of Claire and her feelings.

Seraphine gave her some hot blueberry cakes from the kitchen.

"Thank you." Claire murmured, unable to contain her surprise.

The woman touched her shoulder lightly and nodded.

"I had a girl like you once."

Claire’s gaze flashed to hers.

"You can speak."

Seraphine looked away. Her eyes were glassy, like she was trapped in a memory that haunted her.

Claire placed her hand over the woman’s slender one.

The woman snatched her hand away and left the room.

Her eyes returned to the cakes in front of her.

The next morning, Claire woke up. The sun was bright outside - she had slept in.

She never slept in.

She rubbed her eyes and slipped off the bed, reaching for her robe.

The door jerked.

Claire stilled. "Who is there?" She called in a small voice.

"My lady, it is the doctor your uncle requested."

Heaving a deep breath, she went to the door and opened it.

An old man with a few wisps of hair on his head stood there. He wore a long black robe with a silver collar. Behind him was her uncle and Dana, one of the maids.

"May I come in?" The old man asked when she did not move.

"Yes." She found her voice, stepping aside for the trio to enter.

Dana carried a tray containing twisted metal bars and salves.

What did they want to do with her?

"Sit." Uncle Jarren said.

The maid quietly closed the door.

"Are you pregnant?" He asked.

Claire stared at him for a second, wondering where the accusation stemmed from.

"No."

"I don’t believe you, my dear."

Claire retreated further into the bed, folding her legs under herself.

"I’m not! I swear by the moon goddess!"

Her eyes were wide with fear and disbelief.

Uncle Jarren shook his head, a sly smile curving his lips.

"Check her."

The doctor advanced closer.

"It won’t hurt if you don’t wriggle."

Her eyes darted between them and the window.

"No, please don’t touch me! I will do anything to prove it, Uncle. Please!"

He held out a hand to stop the so-called doctor.

"Anything? Have you been touched before?"

She shook her head violently. Tears were streaming down her face.

"How do we know you are not lying, then?"

Claire averted her gaze.

"I’ll swear! Let the gods judge me if I am not a virgin, Uncle!"

His eyes danced.

"She’s telling the truth." He said at last.

The doctor moved away, his shoulders sagging with disappointment.

"You’re a good girl."

To the maid, he said, "Give her lime to eat. Nothing else."

Then, he left the room.

Claire threw her pillows against the door. Her bed linens followed.

The maid only stared. "Get out!"

Dana picked up her tray and rushed out as fast as her legs would carry her.

She stayed in her room for the rest of the day and most of the one after.

Aurora came to visit her the evening of the following day.

Her little sister was still haunted by what happened the night they tried to run away.

"Claire." She had said. "Would it have been better if the wolves had killed us?"

Claire hadn’t known what to say then.

And she doesn’t know now.

The mating ceremony was set to begin. She and Arlan were seated at the high table while his father sat among the other lords, feasting and laughing loudly.

A full moon graced the sky, illuminating the open ground where they sat.

Up until then, no one had seen the bride or groom. It was taboo for them to be seen.

The drums began. The rhythm stirred something deep within her. Something she could not name.

The crowd stirred as a large party arrived.

She sensed him before she saw him.

Yeren.

What was he doing here?

His men escorted him to the grand high-backed chair reserved for him. She followed his movements. His long black cloak brushed the ground as he passed.

A servant helped him remove it just before he took his seat.

With a wave of his hand, it began.

The drummers changed the rhythm. A band of dancing women circled the edge of the floor.

The groom arrived first. He was wearing only a robe.

Everyone cheered for him. Except Claire.

She felt like she didn’t belong in such a place.

Then, the girl graced the floor. She was equally wearing a robe.

Her long brown hair fell down her back in shimmering waves.

The two of them started circling themselves in a movement so primal - so devoid of rules and civility.

The boy would reach for her and she’d jerk away.

Claire reached for her goblet and downed the content. Arlan stared at her, shocked that she could drink so much wine at once.

And she felt it.

Her gaze flicked to where Yeren sat before she could think.

He was staring back at her, a sly grin on his features.

Her throat tightened.

Clearing her throat, she returned her gaze to the spectacle in front.

Her uncle was watching her, but she avoided his gaze.

The boy grabbed the girl by the neck and brought her to him.

The girl struggled against his strength as he tried to bite her neck.

Then, she wolfed out. A gasp tore through the crowd. Her fur was a rich brown, although it looked black in the moonlight.

The boy laughed.

The pretty girl was a beta.

Her growl filled the air.

Claire poured herself more wine and downed it faster than the first.

"Do you want to get yourself drunk?" Arlan asked.

She only burped, covering her mouth a minute too late and colouring the shade of a cherry.

Then, young Lord Rodick shifted to his wolf. His wolf was the colour of wilted ash - gray with streaks of black.

He dove for her, tumbling her into the ground. The female dancers that encircled the ring drew back. It was getting violent. The ground shook with the weight of their fight.

Until, he finally marked her on her neck. Claire’s eyes snapped to the King’s at that moment.

He wasn’t looking at her, but as if by a pull, he turned to meet her gaze.

The female wolf whimpered as she was conquered. The male howled into the air.

The crowd cheered again.

But, the female had to mark him. The fight wasn’t over - but the superiority had been established.

Kicking her chair backward, Claire stood up and left the table. Her maid, Seraphina followed her as she left. Uncle Jarren now insisted that she should never be left alone - except in her room.

They walked down the aisle to the Rodick’s keep.

But, instead of heading to the house, she turned into the forest. The woman held her back.

"I am not running away." Then quietly, she said, "Not without my sister."

The woman’s eyes softened.

Someone emerged from the Keep. He was dressed in similar attire to the King.

The man started walking towards her.

"Miss Stenly." He sketched a graceful bow.

"My Lord." She curtsied.

His eyes darted to her silent companion with lowered eyes.

"Might I have a word."

She nodded.

"Alone."

A nod from her sent the maid to the Keep - not where the ceremony was being held.

"Please, my name is Andon."

"What do you want, Andon?"

"Straight to business? Follow me, then."

"To where?"

"The King wants to speak with you."

She stiffened. "Forgive me, but I cannot-"

"It was not a request."

She stopped walking.

"I can’t speak to him." She started trembling.

"No one will know."

Her gaze narrowed at him. His voice was soothing - like he knew the exact reason she didn’t want to see the King.

"Very well."

He led her down to the rose garden. There was a bench there. And he was seated there.

"You do me a great honour, Miss Stenly." His deep voice reverberated through her.

"I wish I could say the same."

Andon turned to leave but she gripped his arm. He stared down at her.

"I won’t be far." He pointed at a hedge, grinning.

Her hand fell away stiffly. She turned back to Yeren.

His jaw flexed, she noticed.

"Why do you want to see me?"

"I had a dream about you."

"I don’t care about your stupid dream! If my uncle sees me talking to..."

Claire ran her hands through her hair. She had said too much.

"What would he do?"

His voice was daring - almost as if he knew how vile her uncle could be.

She squared her shoulders.

"My dignity is in jeopardy. If we are constantly alone... rumours would begin to spread."

"Rumours I can protect you from."

"What about rumours of pregnancy? Of my ruined virtue?"

He patted the space beside her.

"I haven’t touched you, have I?"

"But no one cares what really happened. They will always jump to their own conclusions."

"People?"

She covered her face. "I don’t have any proof, Your Grace. No one will believe me."

Her body shook as she spoke, trying to stifle a sob.

Slowly, she sat down beside him. A slight drizzle started.

"My own mate dance will be coming soon. Will you promise to not be there? I told my uncle that you won’t come."

"I like to remain unpredictable, Claire."

"But you are, Your Grace."

His eyes widened.

"Am I?"

"You won’t stop until I lose everything else. Even my life."

He grinned.

"Is that what you think? I would never hurt my mate."

She pounded her fist into the seat.

"I am not your mate!"

"Keep your voice down."

He glanced around to see if anyone was watching them.

"I don’t believe you, Your Grace."

His eyes darkened at her words.

"I expected that. But believe this." He leaned in and kissed her.