The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 52: Whispers

Claire didn’t stop running until she was far away from his room. She paused to catch her breath.

In her haste, she hadn’t cared if she’d been seen, but now her senses had returned somewhat, the possibility was devastating.

Female voices were approaching behind her.

"Why was she running like that?" She heard one of the women ask.

"No, Nancy. You should be asking why her dress was torn like that!"

"Where did she come from?"

The second one lowered her voice when she said, "Isn’t it obvious, Nancy. She’s the King’s Cupbearer and the King is the only one with a bedchamber in this tower."

Claire sucked in a breath and rushed away. She couldn’t listen any further.

People had seen her.

Gods! People had seen her!

Aurora.

Her sister was the first thing that came to her mind. Maids often gossiped around her little sister. What if she heard tales of her sister’s madness?

What would Rory think of me? She asked herself.

The journey back to her chamber was endless. Torches had already been lit in the sconces on either side of the walls to light the dark hallways she passed.

Her and Rory’s chambers were at the east tower while his was at the west.

And the endless flight of stairs...

By the time she reached the landing, she was a sweaty mess.

A servant was just leaving her sister’s chambers.

The blonde woman lowered her head in acknowledgement, but not before Claire saw the shimmer of curiosity in her eyes.

"My lady." The woman skirted a curtsey and walked away.

Claire glanced over her shoulder. And as expected, the woman was looking at her - but she averted her gaze once she saw she had been seen.

Claire saw no need to explain herself. It was clear for everybody to see.

She thought of stopping by Aurora’s room, but her sister was probably still angry with her.

"I’ll talk to her in the morning." She muttered to herself.

A few more steps and she was finally alone with her thoughts.

Her plan to resign from the position had failed woefully.

What in the world had possessed her to mention the dungeons? And there was no doubt in her mind as to whether he would’ve had her locked up.

"Heartless man!" She squealed through gritted teeth.

She knew she’d never be able to bring up the subject again.

And why had she said he wanted her? What had she been thinking?

She swatted her forehead.

A knock on the door disrupted her turbulent reverie.

"Yes."

Lara and her girls came in bearing a steaming tub and clean towels.

Claire ran into the dresser and tugged it off her body before they could see her.

"My lady?" One of the girls’ soft voice called out.

Flushing, she emerged in her chemise.

And she realized that the left arm was loose. One of the straps must have fallen off.

Had it fallen off while she was in his room or outside it?

"You look pale, my lady." Lara commented as she poured a generous amount of the bath oil into the water.

The scent of the oil filled the room.

"What oil is that?" She asked.

"Lavender and jasmine oils, my lady. I make them myself." The one with light freckles said.

Claire nodded.

One of the girls moved around the room quietly, picking items and putting them back in place. Then, she started collecting clothes into the laundry basket for washing.

Claire’s wet gown and undergarments that she had left on the top of her cloth chest was mercilessly tucked into the basket.

Her eyes followed the girl around, wide with terror.

And then, she entered the dresser.

She heard the girl’s gasp.

Everyone heard it.

That was her second torn dress. But the tear was different - more manual.

"What is it, Cora?"

Claire stilled, remaining exactly where she was.

"Nothing!" The girl quickly said.

But Lara and the others were not convinced. They abandoned her for the dresser.

The second wave of gasps forced her to sit down on the vanity stool.

Her business was now everyone’s business.

She could hear murmurs coming from the women.

Claire didn’t want them to look at her differently.

"There’s no stain." One of them said.

Her stomach folded inwards.

She should have been grateful that Andon stepped in when he did - but she wasn’t. Maybe, she was, she didn’t know.

One by one, they trooped out of the little cubicle, Cora clutching the dress - which she had neatly folded - in her arms.

All of them bore serious expressions - except the freckled one.

Claire noticed she was struggling not to grin.

When their eyes met, the girl burst into laughter. Then the others joined her.

What was so funny?

Her face heated up further.

"You should be proud, my lady."

Proud?

"Proud of what?" Her brow arched as she spoke.

"We know what happend between you and the King." Lara said, her voice carefully low.

She flushed beet red.

"You’re the first woman to have caught the King’s fancy in all my years of serving in this castle. I’m honoured to serve you."

What? Where’s the judgement? The contempt? The class distinction lecture?

"Excuse me?"

The women exchanged glances.

Yeren had never had interest in a woman before her? Why did the little knowledge seem to get in her head?

"Come now, dear. Your bath is waiting. You won’t like it cold... especially after..." The freckled one trailed off.

The other women giggled.

A deeper wave of colour flooded her cheeks.

How long would she endure this scrutiny? She asked herself.

And how long before her sister found out?

Her father always said that rumours spread faster than wildfire. If that was the case, which she was certain it was since she was seen, everyone in the castle would know before noon the next day.

And she’d be the one to bear the brunt of it, not the blasted King.

Everyone would think she seduced him.

But a wicked voice murmured, "Didn’t you?"