The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter

Zane~

Three minutes. That’s how long it took Sebastian to get from the palace gates to my private chambers. And yet, those three minutes felt like eternity. I paced the living room like a madman—well, a well-dressed madman in ceremonial silk and finely polished boots, but a madman all the same. The air smelled of waxed wood, cold stone, and a trace of lavender—Natalie’s doing, no doubt. She always said I needed something calming in my space. I should’ve listened sooner.

Then the door flew open.

"Whoa." Sebastian’s voice rang in the air, low and amused. "You look like you’re about to pass out."

I spun around, glaring. "Do I?"

He leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, dressed like he stepped out of a vampire fashion magazine. Sharp black suit, blood-red pocket square, and a smirk that screamed trouble. His jet-black hair was slicked back as always, every strand defying gravity like it owed him money.

"You look like someone shoved a crown down your throat and told you to smile for the cameras," he continued, strolling in with the confidence of a man who feared nothing, not even royal politics. "Which, I guess, isn’t far off."

I collapsed onto the velvet settee, elbows on knees, fingers clutching my temples. "I’m not ready, Seb. I thought I was, but I’m not."

He blinked. Then blinked again. "Zane... you’re Zane. Mr. ’I-crack-boardrooms-before-breakfast’. Mr. ’I stare down billionaires for fun.’ And you’re scared of a bunch of nobles in capes?"

I laughed, a bitter edge clinging to the sound. "It’s not them. It’s the crown. The kingdom. I’m scared I won’t do it right. That I’ll mess up. That I’ll get so swallowed by duties and diplomacy and decisions that I’ll forget to live." My voice dropped to a whisper. "I’m scared I’ll lose time with her."

Sebastian’s expression softened, the sarcasm melting away. He lowered himself beside me, all jokes gone. "Natalie."