Deal with the Lycan King's heir

Blue Eyes

POV: Lillian

Only my uncle and the village elder are aware of my training and the plan for tonight.

And, the truth is, none of us truly know if I will live to see another day. No villager that has tried to flee the village or hurt a werewolf before has escaped with their life, no less attempt to assassinate their Alpha. The werewolves would most often bring the fallen villager’s body for us to mourn, regardless of how mauled it was, so as to refrain us from attempting such foolish things again.

But, to their spite, all that managed to do was to fuel within us the hatred we held for them. Everybody left to rot on a pole in front of the village only made us stronger, more cunning, and smarter at living life against them. Over the years, we learned more about their abilities, their weaknesses, and their fears. We studied their training while washing their laundry, and we stole a dagger or a knife here and there whenever we cleaned their rooms or tended to the kitchen.

However, no amount of research could have prepared me for what came next.

We were all kneeling, humans and monsters alike, before the group of werewolves walking along the path before us. It wasn’t long before I could finally make out what they were saying. My ears instantly recognized a much too familiar voice getting closer, and my blood went cold.

Brandon.

“Our pack is a modest one, but we make our living through honest work. Rebekah, despite being my daughter, has been taught to fight just like any other pack member. I’m sure that you will find her skills acceptable, Your Majesty.”

It had seemed that our escort’s words were correct, in the end. There was no way that Brandon would speak so politely to anyone weaker than him.

“We shall see about that, Brandon,” A deep, resonant voice replied, “Your daughter will have ample opportunities to prove her worth as a chosen mate for my son. Have you met her yet, Michael?”

Every word felt calm and measured, but there was an underlying menace that reeked of power. My bones trembled with every step they approached.

“Yes, Father,” another voice with the same unwavering nature piqued, “I’ve already met Rebekah this morning, when we arrived. She seems like a fine lady, and I cannot wait to spend more time with her and get to know her better.”

The compliments regarding Brandon’s daughter unsettle my stomach slightly, but I cannot afford to empty my breakfast now. Rebekah is just a few years older than me, yet she is the spitting image of her father. Growing up in her father’s footsteps, Rebekah is the furthest thing from a fine lady, indulging in bullying the weak and mocking the villagers.

My gaze was still steadfast on the ground as the steps were just a few feet away from me, and for some reason, my heart began racing like a hummingbird’s wings.

One.

Two.

Three.

…

Four?

Four pairs of steps are approaching.

Brandon spoke again, his voice betraying a tinge of how uncomfortable he felt, “Of course, Prince Michael, my daughter will join us at the banquet and you two shall be seated next to each other. Meanwhile, I took the liberty of seating Prince Christian next to King Caleb.”

A grunt of approval left someone’s throat.

“Actually,” the voice I linked to Prince Michael intervened quickly, “I believe it would be a good idea for my younger brother to sit with the other pack members. He is, after all, also looking for a mate, and this… environment could speed up the process. Wouldn’t you agree, Father?”

Michael seemed rather excited about the idea, his voice laced with mischief.

“That is up to Christian,” the King said with finality as if his son’s seating was of no concern to him. A deafening silence followed, broken only by the clacking of their boots on the pavement.

I don’t know if it was due to the fact that all werewolves were kneeling, or because some morbid curiosity got the best of me, but suddenly, the back of my head burned as if a thousand suns decided it was the best spot to lay their rays on, and I felt the compelling need to raise my gaze. My entire body screamed for me to set my eyes on the Lycan King and his family.

"I need to know whom I’m dealing with," I thought, convincing myself that the benefit of recognizing the werewolves Brandon feared was worth the risk of meeting a werewolf’s eyes. "After all, they will be important at the banquet."

Slowly, I lifted my eyelashes and raised my head.

And my worst nightmare came true.

A pair of the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen locked onto mine, and my body froze. Suddenly, all I could hear was a ringing in my ears as we stared at each other for mere milliseconds, unnoticed by the rest of the group as they moved ahead.

It felt like the whole world stopped, only resuming when those blue eyes narrowed and darkened.

My head instantly dropped, my gaze fixed on the ground, my heart in my throat. My right hand touched the hilt of the knife at my hip, waiting for the wolf to pounce. Surely, the wolf would interpret my lack of self-preservation as a direct challenge.

Yet seconds passed, and no pouncing came.

“Prince Christian?” Brandon halted and asked as if suddenly remembering that they were still expecting an answer from him, “Where should I arrange your seating?”

A deep, steady voice replied, “Who are they?” ignoring Brandon’s question. The sound came from somewhere close to me, and a chill passed over my spine as I could only assume it was the same werewolf I had just made eye contact with.

“Oh,” Brandon approached, “They are a group of human workers that we hired especially for this event. They are employed by an approved agency that is aware of the circumstances. Please be assured that they are vetted properly before being allowed to work here.”

A part of me was almost grateful that my body was too preoccupied with the threat posed by the blue-eyed werewolf; otherwise, I would have struggled to suppress a chuckle at Brandon’s lies. Despite the tension in the air, I was surprised to see Prince Christian turn on his heels and continue walking behind his father and brother, with Brandon following closely. I breathed a sigh of relief, though confusion gnawed at me. If our research was wrong about eye contact being a challenge for their wolf, what else could it be wrong about? Perhaps the plan to assassinate Brandon was already compromised due to our lack of knowledge.

Images of burning cots and my parents’ fresh blood on my small palms flashed before my eyes.

No.

I must go ahead.

He must die.

My heart only began to relax when the clacking of their boots faded away, and our escort ordered us to rise. The werewolves around us also stood up and quickly returned to their tasks. A peculiar detail I hadn’t noticed before was that every member of the Jawbreaker pack had hair in various shades of brown, ranging from honey blonde to deep chestnut.

In stark contrast, the blue-eyed werewolf’s hair was black, as dark as the deepest night.