The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 96: Sword and Sheath

It took a while for Claire to register where he placed her hands.

Was that supposed to be human flesh? It felt as hard as a rock. And very warm.

He released his grip on her wrist and her hand fell limply to her side.

What was that?

"I need you to go. The rain suits me just fine."

But she didn’t move. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate with her.

"Is that a bad thing?" She asked.

He let out a low chuckle.

"Bad? It’s bad for you and good for me in a normal sense. But since there’s nothing normal about our situation, it’s bad for both of us, but worse for me since I have to deal with it."

She remained rooted to the spot.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to put you in any discomfort."

"Discomfort?" He repeated the word. "You should leave."

She pulled her matted hair away from her eyes and looked up at the barely visible silhouette of the man standing before her.

"Can I do anything to help?"

"You would help immensely by leaving."

Claire spun on her heels and turned to leave.

"Forgive me." She muttered again and left.

She listened for any movement behind her, or for him to ask her to stay. But she heard nothing.

The rain-kissed path was steep and slippery. And to make matters worse, she couldn’t really see no matter how hard she squinted her eyes.

She just had to make it through the night and she’d be far away from him once they arrived at Glenwood. If all things would be equal, that is.

Andon was downing a goblet of wine when she entered the carriage.

She coloured as the cloak dripped water on the wooden panel that formed the floor of the carriage.

And the cushions were soaked.

"Did you see him?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the water that was dripping from her cloak.

"Yes. Like you said, he’s fine."

Andon set the goblet he was drinking from down on the seat beside him and folded his hands.

"You look like you just saw a ghost."

"Perhaps I did."

Why did he go through such lengths just to avoid her?

He wasn’t like the normal men she knew.

"Can I ask you something, Lord Andon?"

He nodded hesitantly, his gaze narrowing.

"I’ll answer to the best of my knowledge, dear."

"What does it mean when your..." she pointed at his crotch, "is as hard as a rock?"

He blinked at first, his mouth falling open slightly before he closed it.

"And what inspired your question, if I may ask?"

Hot colour flooded her cheeks.

Lying would be of no use to her at this point, would it?

"The King... he said it was because of me."

"Because of you?" He repeated, sounding more like a question than a statement.

She nodded in concurrence.

"How well do I put this? Wait, are you telling me that you’ve never discussed about such devious things with your female friends and gossip partners?"

She shook her head slowly.

"I don’t have any friends... except Zach. And he’s very modest - he wouldn’t want me to know such things."

Andon leaned forward, picking up his goblet once again.

"He’s doing you more harm than good, in my opinion. Although, inexperienced boys with little or no self-esteem are hardly the right people to inform you on such things." Grinning, he added, "You have come to the right person, Miss Stenly."

She gulped, unsure if she wanted to hear what he was going to say next.

"It means..." He trailed off, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. Why was he not saying it outright?

"It means that he wants you in the way a man wants a woman."

Her brows drew together.

"I don’t think that’s what it means."

He beckoned for her to come even closer.

"I’m about to cross the line of modesty, Miss Stenly. Do you still want me to proceed?"

Did she want him to proceed? He seemed to know exactly what was going on, but she hated the fact that she was having such an improper conversation with him.

"Proceed. But tell me only what I need to know."

"I believe you’ve seen a sword and its sheath before." He waited for her response.

"I have."

"Now, imagine that what you felt is a sword. Wouldn’t it need a sheath?"

She nodded, her mouth twisted in confusion.

"And swords don’t fit perfectly in just any sheath, right? They might fit into other sheaths of similar size, but they always have a particular one."

What exactly was he driving at?

"Now, imagine that the place between your legs is the sheath."

Her mouth rounded into a perfect circle and her face heated up.

It was all beginning to make sense to her.

"I think I understand your meaning now."

He held up a hand to silence her. "I haven’t gotten to the peak of my explanation, Miss Stenly."

What more did he possibly want to say? Her ears were already folding inward.

"Like I said before, some swords have specific sheaths. They need to be buried in that sheath after a long day of beheading people and ridding the world of scum. If the sheath is not available, the sword stays homeless and helpless."

Homeless and helpless. Is that what Yeren was going through?

"Now, you can go ahead and ask me any question you like." He leaned back against the chair with a sigh and downed the remaining content of his goblet.

"You’re saying I’m his sheath."

"Correction, you’re the sheath his sword wants... not needs - there’s a difference, Miss Stenly."

"So there could be other sheaths - other women?"

He nodded, struggling to suppress his usual smug grin.

She turned and stared out the window at the darkness beyond.

A sword and a sheath? No one had ever explained the concept to her in such a basic manner.

"And you should also know that-"

"She should know what?"

She and Andon glanced at the door at the same time.

Yeren wasn’t smiling.

Had he heard?