A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 47 - 46

Chapter 47: Chapter 46

As the sunlight crept into my window, I sat upright, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands. Last night was one hell of a night, I thought, yawning deeply.

As I stretched out the lingering sleepiness, Namarie hopped up onto the bed, purring softly. I reached over, running my hand along her silky fur, and she nudged her head into my palm, as if sensing I needed a little comfort this morning.

"Morning, troublemaker," I murmured, scratching behind her ears. She responded with a louder purr, settling into my lap like she owned the place—which, let’s be honest, she probably thought she did.

There was a soft knock on my door and before I could respond, the door creaked open, and my maid slipped inside. Her hands were clasped nervously in front of her, and her eyes darted around the room, never quite meeting mine. I could practically feel the tension radiating from her, though she kept her expression carefully blank.

"Forgive for intruding, My lady," she said softly, finally daring to look at me, " but His Majesty summons you."

I blinked, caught off guard. The Lycan King wanted to see me? Again?

"Thank you," I replied, keeping my voice steady. She stepped closer, hands fluttering nervously as she prepared to help me dress. Her movements were careful, almost gentle, but I could see the faint tremor in her hands, the way she seemed eager to finish and leave the room as quickly as possible. Still, she went about her task efficiently, pulling out a gown and laying it across the bed before helping me to my feet.

"Let’s get you ready, my lady," she murmured, guiding me over to the washbasin. I could feel her unease even more sharply as she helped me bathe, her eyes never quite meeting mine, her movements quick and almost mechanical. I didn’t blame her, of course; it wasn’t like she was the only one avoiding me like a plague.

Once I was bathed and dried, she helped me slip into the gown she picked, a simple dress in dark blue, with a corset that cinched at the waist. The whole time, her fingers worked deftly but kept brushing against me as though she were afraid even to touch me.

As she fastened the last string at the back, I managed a small, awkward smile. "Thank you," I said, hoping maybe it would ease some of her tension.

She only nodded, clearly unwilling to linger any longer than necessary. "Of course, my lady," she said, dipping into a quick bow before stepping back. She gestured to the door, her eyes lowered. "If you’re ready, I’ll take you to His Majesty."

With a deep breath, I followed her out of the room, trying to ignore the knot of nerves coiling in my stomach. Something about this felt different, strange, but I couldn’t quite place why.

As we walked, I expected her to lead me to one of the usual places—the throne room, perhaps, or his private chambers. But instead, we turned down an unfamiliar corridor, one that led toward the back of the castle. I glanced at her in surprise, but her face was impassive, eyes fixed straight ahead, clearly focused on her task.

"Where are we heading to?" I asked, though I doubted she would tell me much.

She hesitated, casting a quick glance over her shoulder as if to make sure no one else was listening. "The training grounds, my lady," she replied quietly. "His Majesty is already there."

The training grounds? My surprise only deepened. I had never once been summoned outside, let alone to the place where the soldiers trained. The Lycan King didn’t exactly make a habit of bringing me into his... activities. But I kept quiet, letting her lead me through the winding corridors and out into the open air.

The training grounds stretched out before us, a vast expanse of dirt and grass, bordered by a low wall and scattered with wooden targets and practice weapons. Soldiers were sparring in pairs, their movements swift and precise as they exchanged blows, their faces set in grim concentration. I could see the sweat glistening on their brows, the strain in their muscles as they went through their drills.

And there, in the center of it all, was the Lycan King.

He sat on a throne-like chair, one that had been dragged outside just for him. His face rested on his hand, his expression one of complete and utter boredom as he watched his soldiers train. I almost didn’t recognize him. There was something oddly strange about the way he looked, almost vulnerable in his disdain.

But as soon as he saw me, his expression changed. His eyes lit up, a spark of amusement flashing in them, and a slow, taunting smirk spread across his lips. "Darling," he drawled, his voice carrying across the training grounds. "What took you so long?"

I felt my face flush, but I forced myself to keep my composure as I approached him, my head held high. I dipped into a small curtsey, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. "Good morning, Your Majesty," I replied formally. "May I ask the reason for my summons?"

His smirk widened, and I could see the amusement in his eyes. "You wound me, darling," he said, his tone laced with mock hurt. "Can’t a male simply desire the company of his mate?"

I gritted my teeth, biting back the retort that sprang to mind. He loved to play these games, loved to see me squirm. I had long since learned that reacting only gave him more fuel. So instead, I kept my expression calm, meeting his gaze with as much composure as I could muster.

His eyes flicked to the soldiers, and with a casual wave of his hand, he called out to them. "Enough. Take a break."

The soldiers stopped immediately, their movements halting as they turned to face him. One of them—a tall, broad-shouldered male with a scar across his cheek—stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said, his voice steady.

The Lycan King glanced at him, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Bring my bride a wooden sword," he commanded, his tone sharp.

The soldier looked surprised, but he didn’t dare question the order. He turned and hurried off toward a pile of practice weapons, leaving me standing there, utterly bewildered.

A wooden sword? I shot a quick, confused glance at the Lycan King, but he only watched me with that infuriating smirk, clearly enjoying my reaction. My heart was pounding, a mixture of confusion and dread curling in my stomach. What was he planning?

The soldier returned, holding out a wooden sword in both hands, and I took it hesitantly, feeling the rough weight of it in my grasp.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to ask what he intended, but he was already moving, rising from his throne and taking a few steps toward me. His eyes gleamed with something dark, something that made my skin prickle with unease.

"You’re going to spar with me, darling," he said, his voice low, almost a purr. It wasn’t a question; it was a command, one that left no room for argument.

I stared at him, the wooden sword feeling heavy in my hands, a million questions racing through my mind. But one thing was clear: I wasn’t getting out of this.