Chapter 46
Zephyrine
Finished
I have been to the Lycan Kingdom a few times before, but never have I ridden in on the King’s own horse with the King himself behind me, holding me close.
I was still stunned from earlier at the memorial hall, his keen observance, the way his fingers lingered on mine, caressing my hands in a way Nyroth, my own mate never had. The way he asked no questions, only took me with him.
The horse galloped past the night guards, who bowed immediately as the King rode through. At last, we stopped at the Royal-
stable.
The stableman rushed forward to take the reins, while Lycannar dismounted and helped me down tenderly, almost reverently.
He knew I was a warrior, yet he still… pampered me?
I was lost in thought until his fingers laced with mine, firm and warm. Together, he pulled me through the Royal Hall.
It was my first time here, the towering stone walls swallowing us as we emerged into a massive hallway.
Two branching paths led in opposite directions. Lycannar veered right, then a maid appears, bowing his head to the King only to be ignored. I bowed politely in turn.
We stepped outside again, and for the first time, I stood at the foot of the Black Tower. The air around it was heavy, the shadows deeper than they should have been. The place was a living legend, rumored to be the prison of the Lycan Prince.
I barely noticed Lycannar slip from my side until his voice cut through the silence.
“Catch.”
I turned just in time to shatch the sword he tossed toward me. My pulse quickened as our eyes met.
He was serious. He wanted to spar.
Did he know who I was five years ago? If he did, he wouldn’t have handed me a blade and invited me to use it.
“Come,” he said, turning and leading me toward a large, soft–ground arena. The earth was worn, but the energy here was thick, like the ghosts of battles past still lingered. Goosebumps prickled my arms.
I glanced at the sword in my hand. My fingers itched to draw it but I didn’t want to hurt him.
When I looked back, he was standing in the center of the arena. No blade. Just him.
“If you strike me once, you win.”
I almost smirked. He was underestimating me. Without even unsheathing the blade, I lunged. My strike was swift and precise but a gust of wind swept past my face, and before I knew it, he was behind me.
A shove between my shoulders sent me sprawling into the dirt.
“You’ll die at this rate if you duel that rogue with these weak techniques. The Luna who trusts you her.”
will curse
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