The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 23: Past Vs Present

She dragged him beneath the table and covered him with herself.

She tried to pray for safety, but no words would come.

The only name she could utter was Yeren’s.

Why?

He had offered her help. She should have taken it. If she had, she would still be with her sister... and Arlan wouldn’t be dying.

Then, the table cloth lifted and the old lady peered at them.

"They’re gone now. You can come out."

The candles flickered, casting grim shadows over Arlan’s features. His skin had a sickly pallor that made her heart ache.

He probably had less than an hour to live, if not minutes.

He suddenly started convulsing as she moved him.

"Get me a pail!" The woman instructed, her voice as coarse as sand as she struggled to hold him down.

Claire’s gaze darted around the room in search of the required object.

Then, she spotted one with a splintered top.

She rushed for it and brought it to them.

The woman lifted him up, placing the pail beneath his face and patted his back.

Nothing came out.

"The poison has sunk deep." The woman murmured.

Claire fisted the garment of her filthy dress.

"Can you do anything for him?"

The old lady gazed into the distance, briefly lost in her own thoughts.

Then she muttered, "He needs wolfsbane, night shade and cinnamon."

Wolfsbane?

For a wolf?

Her mind raced. That would kill him faster than what he was already suffering from.

The woman rose to her feet and headed to her table scattered with sweet-smelling herbs.

The woman appeared human. And she didn’t have the scent of a wolf.

Could she be trusted?

"Don’t give him that. You will kill him if you do." She said without thinking.

The woman barely acknowledged her words.

She kept mixing her concoction as she hummed a little tune that was unfamiliar to Claire.

"Did you hear me?"

The old lady turned around, bottle in hand.

"He needs to drink this." Was all she said in response.

Just as she tipped the bottle near his lips, Claire blurted out, "He’s a wolf. He will die."

The older woman’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

"I know. Don’t worry, the wolfsbane would do more good than harm."

She was taken aback by the woman’s response.

How did she know he was a wolf? Only wolves can tell one another apart.

She stepped back as the woman administered the dark liquid to him. He gagged, spilling most of it along his cheeks and neck, but some of it managed to trickle down his swollen throat.

The convulsing slowed until it stopped. The sudden improvement made her hopes spike to the roof.

"The worst is yet to come." The woman said, instantly dissolving her joy.

"Worst? What could be worse than this?" She gestured at him.

"The fever. If the fever doesn’t kill him, then he will live."

Claire sagged against the wall behind her.

"I have some broth... very healthy. It would help him gain some strength."

The woman moved to the cauldron hanging over the fire and scooped a slurpy concoction into a bowl.

The smell was unfamiliar.

When the woman saw her scowl, she said, "I have only wild beans, wild roots and some lamb inside. I was not expecting visitors, you see."

After feeding the broth to Arlan, she settled beside him with a wet cloth, ready to help him conquer the fever.

Every few minutes, she would dab his head with the cool cloth.

His teeth chattered at odd intervals, startling her when they did.

"You have come a long way from the city, lass. What were you hoping to find this deep in the forest?"

Claire’s gaze flew to the woman’s and held it.

"Long story."

"You look like rich folk."

Brief silence.

"The boy must be a high-born."

The comment was a slap in the face - the woman hadn’t noted her as a highborn as well.

She had been reduced to scum, even in the eyes of the society’s lowliest.

But, she said nothing.

She looked at her charge. Sweat beaded on his forehead, some hanging like glittering pearls on his long lashes.

What if he dies in his sleep? She kept wondering.

"I have not been to the Capital in more than a decade."

Claire didn’t care about the woman’s history, she just wanted Arlan to recover.

"What do you think poisoned him?" Claire asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Honey berries. Comely to the eyes, deadly to the heart."

He must have eaten it when she wasn’t looking.

"You look familiar." The woman said after a while.

"Me? I... I do?" She touched her chest.

A nod confirmed it.

"How? I should think that I would remember a... unique woman like you."

"Are you Jarren Straught’s daughter?"

She blinked several times.

"No... Why do you ask?"

The woman lifted her shoulders in what seemed to be a shrug.

"How do you know Jarren Straught, if I may ask?"

"He is an important man. It is only natural that I would have heard of him."

Claire shook her head.

"When she spoke of him, you sounded like you knew him... personally." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"Who am I to be acquainted personally with a peer of the realm?"

She bit her lip as she could not answer the posed question.

"You have quick wits, just like your mother did."

Her brows arched.

Her mother? How in heaven did the old, scrawny woman know her mother?

"You mistake me for someone else, I trust."

A chuckle escaped the woman.

"Maybe. Mayhap not."

"Who are you?"

"Nobody."

The woman’s vague and parable-like answers irritated her beyond reason.

She decided to forget about the whole thing and focus on Arlan’s health.

Her movements were stiff, loaded with frustration as she dabbed at his forehead and neck.

"Allow me." The woman reached for the damp cloth.

Claire hesitated before giving it to her.

"You can eat while I attend to him."

The woman spoke well - too well for an uneducated woman.

She handed over the cloth and picked up the steaming bowl of broth the woman had laid on the table.

"I knew Jarren Straught when he was but a child."