The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 111: An Excited King

Zane~

A charged silence clung to the air like static, the mist curling through the dim chamber, thick and unnatural. The entire place was swallowed by the overwhelming presence that was Jacob Bartholomew—Mist, the Wolf Spirit.

My father—King Anderson Moor—stood frozen, his once-imposing figure seemingly dwarfed by the ancient power crackling in the room. His regal composure wavered, the weight of Jacob’s transformation pressing down on him like a storm. His fingers twitched slightly, betraying the battle between awe and authority raging inside him.

Then, suddenly, my father took a sharp breath and straightened his shoulders, forcing his expression into something resembling composure. But it was failing—miserably.

His mouth opened, but for once, words didn’t come. He looked between Jacob and me, as if expecting one of us to break the silence, but neither of us did. We let him sit in the reality of what he had just witnessed.

Then, in a voice that completely betrayed the composure he was trying to maintain, my father let out a breathless chuckle. Not a laugh of amusement—no, this was the kind of laugh that came when the mind struggled to grasp something unfathomable.

He took a cautious step forward, his eyes wide with reverence.

"I... I am honored," he breathed, bowing his head ever so slightly. Bowing. My father—the king—was bowing his damn head.

Jacob tilted his own head, his golden eyes gleaming with quiet amusement as the mist began to retreat.

"I had no idea," my father continued, his voice hushed, as though speaking too loudly would shatter the moment. "I had no idea I was in the presence of Mist himself."

Jacob’s form shimmered, the massive, glowing-eyed wolf melting away into something more human—tall, sharp-featured, his dark hair tousled as if he had just stepped out of a storm. He smoothed out the sleeves of his shirt as if he hadn’t just shifted into an ancient entity in the middle of the royal chamber.

"No harm done," Jacob said, waving a hand dismissively. "You didn’t know."

My father exhaled sharply, pressing a hand against his chest as if steadying his own heartbeat. "Still, I apologize for my rudeness earlier. It was foolish of me."

Jacob’s lips twitched, his amusement barely concealed. "It was," he agreed, his tone light, yet the sharp edge of his humor was unmistakable.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, biting back a smirk. Of course, Jacob couldn’t resist the temptation to prod at the king, even if only a little.

Yet my father didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he was too enthralled by the situation, his excitement radiating from him like a man who had just uncovered a long-lost treasure.

"You must forgive me," he said, stepping forward with renewed eagerness. "But I have so many questions!"

Jacob folded his arms across his chest, his smirk deepening. "I figured."

"The Celestial Princess," my father blurted without hesitation, his eyes shining with raw anticipation. "Who is she? Where is she now?"

At that, a quiet chuckle slipped past Jacob’s lips as he shook his head. "Straight to the point, huh?" He exhaled, flicking his gaze toward me before returning it to my father. "She’s doing just fine."

My father’s expression tensed ever so slightly, suspicion creeping into his sharp gaze. "And where is she?"

Jacob hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin, as if weighing how much to reveal. "That," he said smoothly, "is something you’ll learn in due time."

The flicker of eagerness in my father’s eyes dimmed slightly, but he recovered quickly. "I see," he said carefully, though the twitch of his fingers at his side betrayed his barely contained impatience.

Jacob’s eyes gleamed with quiet amusement. "But if you truly wish for the Celestial Princess to reside under your roof, then I suggest you focus on protecting the home she’s coming to." His tone darkened, a subtle but undeniable warning laced beneath his words. "And, of course, you need to be alive to do so."

The words sent a visible jolt through my father. His mouth parted slightly, his throat bobbing as he processed the weight behind them.

I studied his face—shock, intrigue, and something else lurking beneath. Something that looked disturbingly close to desperation.

"So," my father began slowly, his voice laced with cautious excitement, "you mean to say that my family will truly be honored by meeting the Celestial Princess?"

Jacob held his gaze, then nodded. "Yes."

A breath of pure relief escaped my father’s lips, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

Then, before I could even brace myself, his voice burst into my head through the mind link.

"Zane! Do you realize what this means?!"

I clenched my jaw, already dreading whatever came next.

"This is it! This is our opportunity to keep the throne without contest! No one will dare challenge us once we have the Celestial Princess in our household!"

His excitement was deafening. Loud. Eager. Relentless.

"After all these years of searching! You’ve done well, Zane. Bringing Mist to me—this is the greatest thing you’ve ever done in your life."

I exhaled slowly, my fingers curling into my palms. I already knew where this was going.

And sure enough—

"That girl." His voice dipped into something colder. "Natalie."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I hope it has ended?"

Lifting my head, I met my father’s gaze across the room. His expression was sharp, yet the weight behind his words was anything but subtle.

"Whatever you have with her, cut it off. She’s going to be a stain on your reputation. We can’t let Mist know about her existence."

My jaw locked.

"This is our path to absolute power, Zane. Don’t let foolish attachments get in the way."

Inside me, Red bristled.

Across the room, my father was still grinning, practically glowing with approval as he looked at me.

Approval.

Something he rarely ever gave.

And yet... it felt wrong.

Like a cold knife being pressed against my spine.

Jacob, still standing at ease, flicked his gaze toward me then, as if sensing the shift in my energy. His eyes flickered—just for a second—with something knowing.

I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to stay composed.

Because as much as I wanted to throw my father’s words back at him—as much as I wanted to tear through the mind link, to snarl my defiance and tell him that Natalie was the very Celestial Princess he was searching for—

I didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, I gave him the answer he wanted.

"Understood, Father."