The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 27: Caught in a Net

The silence from then on became tense. They sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts until feeble rays of dawn poked through the cracked windows.

When Claire looked up, she realized the woman had been dozing off.

A feeble sound broke through the haze of silence. Both of them jerked.

It was Arlan. He had coughed.

"Get him a pail." The woman quickly instructed. Claire fetched the same pail and brought it to him.

He retched everything he had in him into the pail.

The odour was gut-twisting.

But instead of grimacing, the woman had a smile of satisfaction on her face.

"The boy will live." She murmured.

Claire pulled him close and nearly squeezed the remaining life out of him.

He survived the worst already - the fever.

"Wa...wa..ter." He struggled to say.

Claire dashed for the jug faster than she could breathe.

He down the contents of the full jug without stopping. Water splattered on his neck and clothing in his haste.

Then, he set it aside with a loud thud.

Claire was completely amazed. Wolfbane had helped? His skin was beginning to lose the deathly pallor that had clung to it for the past day.

"Perhaps, I should prepare breakfast so that you can be on your way."

She blinked. So soon? Arlan was still recovering.

"He still needs time to..."

"The poison is out of his system." The woman cut her off briskly. "All he needs is some food to regain his strength and he is as fine as he once was."

She didn’t argue. The howls and wolf growls had stopped at the approach of dawn.

How could she be afraid of her own kin? She often wondered. Was it because she felt she had nothing in common with them, or because they had different values?

Her father had always said that wolves were never meant to hurt anyone unreasonably. And he lived his entire life by that rule. So did she.

But if she received the gift to shift at that point in her life, she feared what she might do with the gift.

People often said it was so easy to kill a man with such strength. Because restraint was underrated.

She never knew a man who exercised restraint in everything.

Not even Zachary.

"Come here, dear. Help me with these parsnips."

She climbed to her feet and headed into the little kitchen.

Arlan was still seated, rubbing his thin arms.

"It’s called a honey berry." Claire said, trying to enlighten rather than scold him.

He didn’t seem affected by her information.

"I knew that." He murmured softly.

She stepped back slowly.

He knew? Did he take it on purpose?

Deciding not to bother him with the string of questions piling up in her head, she went to the kitchen.

The woman was grinding fresh spices in a little mortar.

"Do you know how to cook?" The woman asked, not looking at her.

She was slightly taken aback by the question.

"Fairly. But I can hunt. I enjoy a good hunt."

"That’s odd in a noble woman."

Claire lowered her eyes.

"I am not a noblewoman. Not since my father died."

The woman stopped grinding. She parted her lips to say something but remained silent.

Then, she scraped the content of the mortar into the water boiling in the cauldron. She picked up the peeled parsnips and dumped them in after a light rinse.

Claire watched wide-eyed as the woman removed the cauldron over the hearth and set it on the ground.

It had barely even cooked.

Then she put out the fire in the hearth and served them.

Arlan ate heartily. Claire could only manage a few mouthfuls of the raw meal.

Once they had finished eating, they moved to the door.

"Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. Your kindness will never be forgotten as long as we both live."

The woman nodded briefly, bearing the expression of one who had heard the same words of appreciation a thousand times before. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

And without thinking, Claire pulled her into an embrace. The woman stilled. She smelled like spices, specifically cinnamon.

Then she patted Claire’s back.

"Be careful." She whispered into Claire’s hair.

They walked through the dense wood quietly. At every stir, they would stop moving.

"Do you think our scents are still concealed?" Arlan asked, speaking for the first time since they embarked on their tumultuous journey.

She looked down at him.

"At this point, I don’t care. After all, we are heading back to Penbrook."

He stopped walking.

"I thought we were going South?"

She held his shoulder.

"Not anymore. You belong in Penbrook. I should have never taken you with me."

"Is it because I nearly died? You can’t go back! I won’t let you go back! I have to protect you!"

"Lower your voice!" She whispered fiercely.

He was beginning to vibrate with suppressed sobs.

A twig snapped in the distance.

There was someone there.

But who?

Had the person heard them?

Without wasting a second, she grabbed Arlna’s hand and tried pulling him forward.

He refused to move.

"You’re not going to Penbrook." He said, folding his arms across his chest.

She stopped as well.

"What do you suggest we do then? Live in the forest?"

"I can go back without you."

She rubbed her eyes.

"I started this... and I have to end it-"

"No. My father started this."

What was she to do?

"Here’s what we should do - you walk ten metres ahead and I watch you from behind. When you encounter your father’s men, you let them take you-".

"What happens to you?"

"I go in search of Zachary - he’ll know what to do."

"And if you can’t find him?"

"I go back to my ruined house in Loodswood."

"What about Aurora?"

She pushed her hair behind her ears.

"Stop asking so many questions, Arlan. I don’t know."

His lips thinned.

"Let’s go then."

The path was less dense than what they had previously encountered.

The soil was not as damp as it had been.

Then, she saw the claw marks on the tree again.

And, she realized it too late.

She was standing in a trap.

The rope with a rock attached to its end descended as she ascended, enclosed in a net.

"Run, Arlan!"

He kept looking around for something sharp to cut her loose with.

Until they came.

There was no crest with a red wolf. None of them bore crests at all. She recognized none of them.

"And who might you be, boy?" A familiar voice chipped in.

Claire knew that voice.

But from where?

Then she saw the face.

The King’s first man.

Was this good news or bad news?