The Lycan King's Puppet

Rory blabbered from then on, offering possible theories and explanations.

Claire didn’t want to think about it, but Rory never gave her a chance.

On their way back, Rory suggested that they visit the chapel.

The last thing Claire wanted to do was set foot inside it.

Everything in the building screamed the King’s wedding out loud. And she had helped organise some of the decorations because of Eliza’s persuasion.

And she had assisted with the cake the couple would share during the feast.

"Some other day, Aurora." Her tone was stern, the type that told her sister that there was no room for further argument.

It was nearing dusk as they entered the castle.

Music could be heard from the dining hall.

They were having a feast to celebrate the wedding... how could she have forgotten.

And he would be there.

"I hear music." Rory said beside her as they ascended the steps that led to their tower, swirling in rhythm to the melody as she giggled.

Her sister looked happy to be walking again, it seemed.

"I believe the King is having a feast."

Rory stopped walking.

"Are we invited?"

Claire stopped as well.

"Not expressly yet, but I believe you can attend if you wish to."

"And what about you?"

Claire shook her head.

"I have a headache, and," She held out her now-abnormal hand. "I can’t let anybody see this until it disappears."

Rory rolled her eyes.

"We both know you don’t have a headache."

Claire grinned slightly at her sister’s jab.

She imagined herself sitting at the table, watching everybody toast to the couple and felt herself go sick. She would’ve just reached across and plunged her knife into...

God.

What was she even thinking...

Her steps became hurried.

This was unlike her - wishing someone else would die just because of a conceited man.

A while after they parted to their individual rooms, there was a knock on her door.

"Miss Stenly."

She walked towards the door and opened it.

Andon stood there, dressed in an elegant evening attire.

She stood before him in her slightly muddied dress and matted, disheveled hair.

"Lord Andon."

"Why aren’t you dressed?"

"Is there a reason I should be?" She asked, her tone light and her brow raised in innocent enquiry.

He smirked.

"The King is having a feast to celebrate his wedding as you ’already’ know. Your presence... is very much appreciated."

She wanted to scoff but held it in.

"I’m afraid I have to decline, Lord Andon. I seem to have come down with a headache." Her hand was carefully placed behind her.

He narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"Very well."

He sketched a bow and left without another word.

She watched him leave before she closed the door.

Claire sank down by the bed and stared at her nail.

The claw gave her little hope... although it was too late.

Even if she magically became a wolf, it made no difference.

An hour later, Aurora knocked on her door.

Once she opened it, her little sister burst through the room.

"Everyone at the table noticed your absence, Claire. And I became the object of their subtle attention."

Claire froze, the hairbrush still tangled in her hair.

"Didn’t Andon relay my message?"

Rory shrugged.

"I don’t think so. The King and Lady Plumette kept glancing at your empty seat from time to time."

She continued brushing her hair, refusing to smirk.

"It doesn’t mean anything."

Her sister fell face down on the feather bed.

"It does. I had to leave immediately because I was uncomfortable."

Claire set the brush down on her vanity table and joined her fully dressed sister on the bed.

"I don’t want to talk about the dinner."

The next morning, the sun was out very early, as if offering its blessing for the matrimony that was about to take place.

The whole palace was abuzz with activity.

Even Lara’s girls were blabbing about how they planned to attend the wedding and drool over their handsome King.

Only Lara and the freckled one remained silent and untouched by the contagious excitement that had engulfed the others.

Once she was clean and dressed, the others left, but Lara stayed behind.

"You didn’t try hard enough." The words weren’t meant to be cruel, she knew that, but they touched something deep inside her.

"The battle was yours, but you fled from it. Now, you’ll remain a servant forever." The sadness in the older woman’s eyes drew her attention.

It was almost... motherly.

She met her sister in the hallway.

They were both wearing green dresses, though not matching ones.

They began the walk down the flower strewn path to the Chapel after having a bit of honeyed bread from the kitchen.

Along the path, his carriage rode by, decorated with frills and wedding ornaments that offered good luck and fertility and the rest.

She immediately returned her gaze to the road, mostly because she didn’t want to be caught looking.

He would arrive there before her.

When they arrived at the Chapel, his carriage had already been parked directly in front of the entrance in preparation to carry off the bride and groom as soon as the ceremony ended.

Many guests flocked around the entrance, exchanging loud pleasantries and embraces.

Perfume and laughter filled the air, suffocating no one but her.

Redmare stood beside his wife as he exchanged words with a peer of the Realm that she hadn’t seen before.

Their eyes met ever so briefly before she looked away and pulled her sister with her.

Even Arlan was there, but Rory pretended not to notice for some reason.

He was standing on the altar, regal in his long blue coat and white shirt which had a few buttons undone at the collar.

And the sight of his slightly exposed chest ’undid’ her.

He nodded at greetings from his council members and other faceless courtiers.

Part of her hoped he’d look at her, but he didn’t.

As they waited for the bride, Claire realized something she had tried to ignore for the longest time.

She wanted to be the one he was waiting for.

And it didn’t matter to her if that was love or not.

If life gave her a second chance with him, she won’t lose the battle to any other woman.