The Lycan King's Puppet

She had insisted on bathing herself that morning - mostly because she didn’t want to see the pity in Lara’s eyes, or hear the girls’ gossip on the events that had followed in the past day.

She wanted solitude.

But her thoughts seemed to mock her.

After soaking in the bath for nearly an hour, she stood in the center of the room with a fur towel wrapped around her naked body. It was barely dawn, she still had enough time to prepare.

What was she to wear?

Her mind had poured through his actions without pause all through the night.

Why had he summoned her in the first place?

He had claimed he hadn’t known, but kissed her all the same.

Was he trying to tell her that he still wanted her? He hadn’t asked her to serve wine, he had actually confided in her.

Sometime during her pacing, she had thrown Aldrich’s letter into the heaarth.

The decision had seemed irrational at the time, but now, it only confirmed one thing - she was in love with Yeren.

Her two options were to either leave before the chase of an impossible love broke her, or to stay and force him to fall fiercely in love with her.

Neither option seemed possible, but she knew she’d die a little everyday if she left without trying to win his heart for herself.

She swatted her head - it now felt like a contest.

But Lara’s words replayed in her head. The battle was hers... but was it still hers now?

Letting out a loud sigh, she trudged to the trunk and threw it open.

The same dresses she had worn for the past week stared back at her.

She couldn’t believe that there was a point in time when she rejected the dresses he usually sent to her.

Then, it dawned on her. The last time he had sent her a dress was in Glenwood, after he had left her bed coldly and her heart even moreso. She remembered blatantly rejecting it, nearly snapping at the maid that tried to defend his honour.

Was that why he stopped?

She had thought it was because of Garelle, but at the time, Garelle was barely in the picture.

Or was she wrong?

The shimmering fabric of the red dress caught her attention, but she brushed it aside, mentally deciding what event would suit it best.

Not today. It wasn’t the right time for her to appear glamorous - people might suspect her of trying to seduce the King. Even if that was her sole intention, she wanted to be shameless only before his very eyes, not before his council, or anyone else for that matter.

She picked up the peach-coloured dress he had gotten for her a few weeks back and slid it over herself after battling to wear her undergarments.

Her corset was tight, the boning sucking the air out of her lungs completely. The cusps and laces seemed to have been designed by the devil himself - her fingers were numb and swollen by the time she was done.

But the effect was...

As she stared at herself in the looking glass, her eyes caught on the creamy flesh of her breasts that was exposed to many and lecher alike.

It was clearly the work of the corset. She had never worn something so revealing before. Even a slight cleavage appeared scandalous to her.

But Garelle and other Ladies of her standing wore much worse - what was the exposed top of her breasts compared to what esteemed women wore?

Beads of perspiration dropped from her forehead as she stood there.

Claire covered her face with her hands.

What was she even doing? She looked like a wanton woman.

But... her waist looked smaller than usual. And it brought out her curves more explicitly.

What more did she have to lose, a wicked voice in her head whispered.

After spending a good amount of time brushing and pinning her messy hair into order, she strode out of the room.

She stopped at her sister’s room briefly.

Aurora was still asleep, bidding her to leave the room quietly.

Part of her was disappointed, mostly because she expected Aurora to call her conscience and sense of modesty back to order.

A few servants moved about at the bottom of the stairs. The hallways were brighter than usual, the rays of the sun gleaming on the chiseled stone walls that lined the path.

Neighing horses could be heard from without as more esteemed guests began arriving for the court proceedings.

Andon.

Andon was going to suffer in their hands for ruining a union made in ’heaven’.

Claire scoffed.

The poor man had no idea what was going on, he probably blamed himself for taking Garelle’s virtue.

If only she could tell him - but it wasn’t her place.

The walk down to the court chambers was longer than she expected.

She stopped at a corner and adjusted her dress, hiding a portion of the exposed skin beneath the fabric of the dress.

When she glanced up, the sight before her stole the breath from her over-worked lungs.

Yeren.

And Garelle.

His arm was draped around her shoulders, guiding her to lean against him as they walked.

There were tear tracks on Garelle’s face from what she could see.

It was unlike him to be holding a woman so tenderly.

She wanted to run. To hide somewhere she could no longer see them. But that was a lost dream as they had already seen her.

"Your Grace. Lady Plumette." She schooled her expression back to one of masked indifference, although the slight tremor of her lower lip betrayed her.

"Claire." A hand rested at the small of her back.

She glanced around slowly, too weak to be startled by the gesture.

Aldrich stood there, his handsome face brightened by a charming smile.

"How lucky am I to see you here?"

Then, he glanced up and saw them.

"Your Grace." He sketched a gracious bow. "Lady Plumette." He nodded at her.

They returned his greetings in their own disparate manners, their gazes still fixed on Claire.

"The meeting has been adjourned, Lord Bronan." The King said, his deep voice carrying easily across the distance.

Aldrich nodded, turning his attention back to Claire.

"How convenient. I planned to take you somewhere today."

With that, he laced his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers.

Claire let him lead her away. The fight in her was gone.

But not before she saw something flash in Yeren’s eyes.