The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 25: Wolfless

What did she mean by that? Claire wondered.

She knew Uncle Jarren? Who was she then? A former household servant?

"If I may ask, who are you?"

The woman averted her gaze, occupying herself by checking Arlan’s temperature.

"The fever is worsening."

Claire hated it when people changed the subject. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

"Who are..."

There was a knock on the cottage door just then.

Both of them stilled.

The woman placed a hand on her lips, signalling for Claire to remain silent.

She slowly stood up and headed to the small, uneven windows to peer out.

Claire could hear the growls from outside. Were they still searching till now?

If they found Arlan, would they forget about finding her?

She considered handing Arlan over to them, but his situation was delicate.

The door creaked open and a cool night wind gushed into the rooms. One of the candles was extinguished by the breeze.

"How do you fare?" She heard the old woman ask.

"Have you seen a young boy and girl pass by here by any chance?"

There was a brief silence.

"Can you perceive their scent here?"

"No, but we would like to look around."

"Pardon, but this is a human cottage. Your likes are not permitted here."

Claire heard the man growl. His voice was deep and clear, making her curious as to what he looked like.

Arlan hiccupped at that moment.

She froze.

"What was that?"

The woman glanced at the interior of the house behind her.

"Must be my cat."

"Very well. If you do see them, howl."

His footsteps receded down the creaking floorboards and disappeared into the forest.

She heaved a sigh of relief.

The woman rushed to where they were huddled on the floor.

"You must leave by dawn. I can no longer accommodate you."

Her shoulders sagged.

She couldn’t blame the woman - if she was found to have hidden them, those wolves would have torn her apart.

Arlan hiccupped again.

The woman fetched a cup of water and brought it to him.

Claire watched her every action.

"Were you a maid in his household?"

The woman’s hand began to tremble. She pulled the cup away from the boy’s lips and wiped his mouth with the pad of her thumb.

"I was more than a servant."

Claire crossed her legs under herself.

"A housekeeper?"

"His wet nurse."

Wet nurse? If she was just a wet nurse, why did she seem so ashamed to admit it?

"After his mother died?"

"Yes. It was all a long time ago."

She found it hard to imagine the scrawny old woman as a young and vibrant wet nurse.

"So... what happened?"

The woman glanced at the untouched bowl of soup beside her.

"Have you no appetite?"

It was Claire’s turn to avert her gaze. The soup looked like a disgusting concoction - she couldn’t imagine herself eating such.

"No."

The woman sighed.

"The poor folk in the outskirts have no meat. We survive on the things we grow on our farms."

Claire pondered the woman’s words.

Did Yeren know about it? Did he care about the poor folk?

Like her, her inner voice added.

She shook her head. How would a man that murdered her father care about justice for the less privileged?

"Are you alright, dear?"

Claire roused from her reverie.

"Yes. I was just wondering how it must have been for you to have nursed such a man."

The woman gulped.

"He was a sweet boy when he was young..."

It instantly reminded her of Arlan.

"He was kind and respectful. The only time he became sour was when his half-brother visited Penbrook. He would throw books for days, instead of reading. His brother was so perfect, he always claimed."

"Until your father, Harrick was due for marriage. He was betrothed to the same girl Jarren had affection for. After they married, Jarren became violent and uncontrollable. When he was eighteen, his father had a stroke and died. Servants began to flee because his father was the only person who could restrain him when he had his fits. I was afraid to leave - because he had always been kind to me.

One day, he provoked a stable boy of an age close to his into a heated brawl. And, he killed the boy."

The woman sniffled.

Claire could see the pain in the woman’s distant eyes. The old woman grabbed the quilt she had been knitting in order to busy herself.

"That boy... was my son."

The woman’s eyes shone with unshed tears. Her voice reverberated with undisguised hatred and malice.

She wanted to tell the woman to stop, but she kept going.

"I packed my bags to leave the next day, together with my daughter, Seraphine. She had been thirteen at the time. When he heard about my plan to leave him, he begged me to stay, promising to behave. I remained there, comforted by the shelter I enjoyed."

She sniffled again.

"Until he raped my little Seraphine. I was outraged. I planned to leave with her that night, but she refused to follow me. When he saw her packed clothes, he lost himself and pressed each side of her head against a steaming cauldron. Even then, Seraphine still refused to leave. She thought he would marry her - especially when she found out she was carrying his child."

The woman held Arlan’s hand and squeezed it.

"Where were you when all this was happening to your daughter?"

"I was locked up in a little room and served neither food or water. I finally decided to take my life into my hands and jump out of the window. It was the hardest decision I ever made - leaving my child behind.

My bones were broken, my skin badly bruised with cuts and gashes. My wolf healed me, but that was the last time it ever did so."

Claire ran a hand through her hair.

Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. Was it the same Seraphine who had been so kind to her? The same one who helped her escape?

The thought that Seraphine suffered worse than she did made her want to rip Uncle Jarren’s stony heart out of his chest. She remembered when Seraphine said she’d lost a daughter. Was that her child with Uncle Jarren? If all the woman said was true, why did she still choose to remain at Penbrook? Was it because he would not let her leave?

"You are a werewolf?" She couldn’t help asking.

Then, why didn’t she have a scent?

"I was a werewolf."

"What do you mean?" She rubbed her brow.

Did Seraphine also have a wolf?

"My wolf died that day."

Claire thought about her own situation.

Was her own wolf dead?