The broken Lycan prince - Healed by innocence

Her worries

*Lydia*

Upon reaching the landing, I deftly maneuver to shield my younger siblings from potential harm, yet remain close enough to observe and hear the unfolding events involving the heir to the Lycan prince position. It astounds me that the Princess remains oblivious to his approach, given that his potent presence governs the entire hallway.

"Mother," Grayson's resonant voice reverberates around us, brimming with subtle warning and a commanding invitation for attention.

Startled, the Princess whirls around. "You! You invited him here."

"Yes," his reply is unapologetic, unaffected by her clearly perceived treachery.

"You are a pitiful excuse for a son. Your title is insignificant while your father lives. You will make a pitiful prince too," she retorts with venom.

I admire his stoicism. "As long as father is alive, I intend to fulfill his desires. He yearns to see his beloved son, and you will not deny him."

Defiantly, she thrusts her chin upward, her layers of plumpness accentuating her contempt. "I won't comply."

"You will," he asserts, signaling the two young men who accompanied him. "Please escort the Princess to her quarters."

She resists, her fist shaking in the air. "I won't go!"

"You can choose to leave with dignity intact, or be carried away over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Either way, my Princess, you will depart so that my father can enjoy his son's company in peace. Choose quickly; you have but two seconds."

Rage distorts her features. "I wish it had been you who drowned."

A flicker of sadness paints his hazel eyes as he responds, his voice filled with empathy, "I know."

At his subtle nod, the two servants advance towards his mother. She directs one final, scornful look at my stepfather and her son before gathering her skirts and marching down the stairs.

The future prince then addresses my stepfather. "My apologies for the Princess's discourteous behavior. Recent months have been challenging for her, causing undue stress."

On the stairs, he had struck me as a man of conviction and passion. Now, his cold greeting towards my stepfather is a stark contrast. Nearly fifteen years have passed since Harrison left for Texas. His homecoming is not met with warmth or welcome, but cold indifference.

Yet my stepfather, in true form, compensates for the lack of hospitality with his wide, warm smile. "Good to see you, Kid."

The younger man appears taken aback. "Those days are long gone... Grayson will do."

"Of course, no offense intended. I was saddened to hear about Quentin," my stepfather quickly amends.

The future Prince acknowledges with a slight nod. "We all were. I trust your journey was pleasant, at least until your arrival."

My stepfather rarely spoke of his English family, least of all his youngest half-brother, Grayson. After witnessing the confrontations and listening to their awkward exchanges, I see why he avoided the subject.

Unfazed by the hostility, my stepfather's twinkling blue eyes betray his amusement. "Unfortunately, I'm prone to motion sickness on planes."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Your willingness to undertake the journey will mean a lot to Father. He awaits you," Grayson says, preparing to depart.

"How is he?" my stepfather inquires, halting Grayson in his tracks.

After a moment's hesitation, Grayson confesses, "He's very ill, I'm afraid. He likely won't last much longer. I believe he's been holding on, desperate to see you one last time."

"I had hoped for a brighter prognosis," Harrison admits, his sigh heavy with concern.

"Maybe your presence will bring about a positive change. To clarify, before Mother's outburst, your family has been assigned the rooms in this hallway during your stay. My personal servants are on duty in this wing, and they have been instructed to attend to your every need. They will be honored to serve you," Grayson offers.

"That's very generous of you," my stepfather remarks, his tone grave as if suddenly aware of the roles we are all expected to play. "May I introduce my family to you?"

"Certainly," Grayson assents.

As my stepfather introduces my mother and their two children, the atmosphere is formal, rigid, and rather solemn.

I can hear a constant roar in my ears, as if I'm holding seashells against them, while awaiting my turn. I desperately need to breathe, yet my chest feels so tight that I can barely draw in air. Time stretches endlessly before my stepfather finally introduces me, "This is Lydia, our other daughter."

"Your daughter?" Grayson queries immediately.

His gaze holds something I can't quite decipher, a mix of admiration or repulsion maybe. His initial impression of me seems to undergo a shift as he takes in my appearance anew.

"My stepdaughter, Lydia, to be precise," my stepfather clarifies.

"Precision is indeed valuable," Grayson murmurs.

His scrutiny makes me fear that I might fall short in some respect. However, with his attention now focused on me, I feel a surge of determination to conform to this pack and its regulations. I extend my hand.

For a moment, he looks slightly taken aback before taking my hand. His fingers are unmarred by calluses, abrasions, or scars from hard labor, yet they exude strength despite their apparent ease. He bows slightly, his warm breath ghosting over my wrist, making my knees wobble. He leaves behind nothing more than a fleeting kiss against my skin.

"A pleasure, Miss Lydia," he murmurs.

"The pleasure is all mine, my Prince," I quickly respond, my voice as shaky as my legs.

He lets go of my hand and straightens up. "Future Prince. You shouldn't address me as 'my Prince until my father has passed. For now it would be ‘my Alpha’"

"Oh, yes, of course. I knew that. I apologize for the oversight," I stammer, my face flushing.

"No need to apologize. We often learn more from our mistakes than our successes, don't we?" A small smile graces his face.

Suddenly, I feel a sting of tears welling up, threatening to embarrass me further. I had anticipated so much from my first encounter with the English high packs. I had wanted to impress him, wanted them all to see how well my stepfather had done and how his family is no less than theirs.

Grayson turns to my stepfather, his dismissal stinging more than I care to admit.

"I will be in the library," the future prince informs us. "Once you are done visiting with Father, you are welcome to join me. Do you remember the way?"

"I have forgotten little about this place," my stepfather replies.

"Hell does leave a lasting impression on our souls, doesn't it?" With a brief bow, Grayson leaves us to our visit.

"Lydia," my mother calls softly. "Could you please tend to our luggage while your father and I meet the Prince alone?"

I tear my gaze away from the stairs that Grayson just ascended. I nod, trying not to let the disappointment overshadow my first interaction with the high packs. It hadn't gone as well as I had hoped.