A Maid for the Lycan King

CHAPTER 2

His POV.

The darkness has been the refuge of my enemy. But it meant nothing to me. I held my sword firmly and waited for them to attack again—they always attack first. An enemy in the dark is one thing.

An enemy who moves like a wind in the shadow is another.

Suddenly, a swoosh sounded behind me. I moved in the direction in a single movement. I parried with my sword, kicking the enemy in the belly, and he was lost to the dark again.

I waited patiently. The only thing I could hear were my slow and steady breaths. I have trained for such moments all my life. I’ve known it was inevitable.

Lifting my sword in the air, I waited for the next attack, and it came sooner than expected, but there were four of them.

My blade met the first opponent’s with a resounding clang that echoed across the dark room, our weapons locked in a test of strength. A flick of my wrist sent him stumbling. A sharp kick to his groin, and he collapsed onto the cold floor.

The second lunged from my left, aiming for my torso. I pivoted, easily parrying the strike before sweeping his legs out from under him. A groan slipped from his lips before he also hit the floor.

The third masked man came from behind me, his breath hot against my back. I didn’t need to see him—I felt him. I ducked, spun, and drove my elbow into his gut, destabilizing him. He staggered, gasping for air just as I turned to the tilt of my sword and connected it with his face. His blood splattered about the place, before he dropped on the floor like the rest.

Smarter than the rest, the fourth enemy disappeared and melted into the darkness. I resisted the urge to use my lycanthropic sight to pierce the darkness. If I did, his would be over.

Taking a steadying breath, I held my sword tighter and listened closely. Something always gave them away—their footsteps, their breaths, the swoosh of their swords in the air or something else. I just had to listen closely.

The room was as silent as a grave. And then I heard it, a single drop of sweat on the floor.

I moved in one swift motion just as he emerged from the shadows. My blade whistled through the air, knocking his weapon aside. He barely had time to react before my fist slammed into his jaw. He staggered, disoriented, and I pressed forward, twisting his arm and forcing him to his knees.

The lights came on and applause rang through the air. “Way to go, Your Majesty! Once again, you’ve proved how formidable you’re in battle,” the voice of my valet echoed across the theater. I glanced around and saw him descending the grand stairs of the auditorium, before dragging my gaze to the men sprawled on the floor.

Effortlessly, I sheathed my sword and straightened my stance. “Hello, Joshua,” I muttered to my valet before turning to the men with me. I watched as their wounds knitted together. The one whose jaw I had shattered moments ago gritted his teeth as the bone cracked back into place with a sickening pop. Another wiped at his face, where my blade had sliced across his cheek, only to find smooth skin beneath his fingers.

They were strong. But not strong enough.

“You have to do better next time. All of you,” I said, and the men lowered their heads in acknowledgment.

“You hesitate when you should strike. You overextend when you should hold your ground.” I let my gaze sweep over them, taking in their exhaustion, the flickers of frustration behind their eyes. “Your strength is undeniable, but strength alone will not win you battles. If I had been your true enemy tonight, you would all be dead.”

Silence settled in the room. They knew I was right.

I heaved a sigh and squared my shoulders. “You will fight me again tomorrow. And the day after. Until you learn not just to attack—but to survive.”

The men exchanged brief glances. They lurched to their feet and bowed as Joshua draped a tunic on my shoulders.

“Your Majesty, dinner is ready,” my valet announced.

I stepped away from the stage and alighted its small flight of stairs. “Has it been long since we had lunch?”

“Yes, My Lord. As a matter of fact, you’ve been training for hours. It is almost nighttime.”

He was right. The sky outside was no longer blue with white fluffy clouds drifting as I stepped out of the royal theatre. The evening sun was dipping over the horizon and a blanket of stars twinkling their way into the darkening sky. “Oh, I see..” I sighed.

“This way to your carriage, Your Grace.” My valet led the way around the yard, and in a moment we arrived at my convoy waiting before the water fountain.

With one last glance at the theater, a white fortress built by my great-grandfather for the trainings of royals and high lords, I turned and climbed into the carriage.

Joshua joined me, settling opposite me, and the footman shut the door.

Our heads wobbled slightly as the convoy steered for the gates of the house. I exhaled, resting my head back against the cushioned seat, before turning my gaze to Joshua. “Any other news from the castle?” I asked and tended to the buttons of my tunic.

Joshua folded his hands neatly in his lap, his expression composed. “Everything is ready for your coronation, Your Majesty. The council has finalized the guest list, the lords have pledged their attendance, and the ceremonial garb has been tailored to perfection.”

I glanced at him before dragging my gaze to the window, watching as the world outside blurred past. The lanterns lining the streets flickered in the growing darkness, illuminating the city’s grandeur—the same grandeur that now belonged to me.

“Why am I not excited about the coronation?” The words left me before I could stop them.

Joshua didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me with quiet patience before offering a measured reply. “Perhaps because you are already His Majesty, King Henry II of Britanor, by the Grace of the Gods, Sovereign of the Realm, Defender of the Crown, Protector of the Faith, and Lord of the Seven Provinces. The coronation is merely a spectacle for the people—a formality. If you wished, you could cancel it.”

A faint smile tugged my lips as I brought back my gaze to my valet. “You have a way around words, don’t you, Joshua? You always know what to say.”

He arched forward in a slight bow, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“It is my duty to anticipate Your Majesty’s thoughts before you voice them,” he said, and I huffed a quiet laugh.

“Then tell me, Joshua, if I were to cancel the coronation, would that make me a reckless king or a practical one?”

“That depends, My Lord. Are you avoiding unnecessary pomp, or are you avoiding something else entirely?” he asked.

Again, I glanced away.

The truth was, I had never longed for the weight of royalty. As a child, I’d always wished to be like every other boy out there in the world, not a prince, not a future king—just Henry. But six months ago, on the eve of my twenty-eighth birthday, my world tilted on its axis after my father, King Benedict III passed on after a brief illness.

Memories of that morning were still vivid in my head. I was in the Moonlit Temple, offering prayers to the Gods, hoping for the recovery of my father, when suddenly, the footsteps of the people echoed into the grand hall.

“The king is dead. Long live the King!” And thus, turning away from the altar, I learned about the death of my father and the responsibility of the kingdom which now rested on my shoulders, until now.

I exhaled slowly and resumed buttoning my tunic. “You won't understand, Joshua...you won’t.”

The carriage slowed down as we arrived at the gates of the castle. Seconds later, we pulled up before the grand terrace and a familiar voice came hollering my name.

“Henry!!” that was my sister, Rosalind.

Smiling, she alighted the grand stairs and ran into my arms just as I climbed down the carriage. “Hello, Rosalind.”

“Are you sure you’ve been training, brother? You look so composed for someone who has been training for hours!” she rasped, prompting a chuckle from me.

“How are you, Rosalind?”

She stepped back and curtsied. “I’m good. Did I tell you? Tonight, we’re having roasted duck with honey glaze and spiced potatoes!”

Faking a groan, I rubbed my temple. “That’s your favorite meal, not mine.”

“Exactly.” She grinned. “But since you barely eat these days, I took it upon myself to choose something worth sitting down for.”

“How thoughtful of you,” I mused dryly, but she was already linking her arm with mine, practically dragging me up the stairs.

“Speaking of wonderful things, have you seen the Great Hall yet? It’s ready for the coronation! The banners have arrived from the weavers, the chandeliers have been polished until they sparkle like diamonds, and the musicians have been practicing all day. It’s going to be magnificent, Henry.”

Her excitement was almost infectious. Almost.

“And wait until you see your ceremonial garb,” she continued, oblivious to my lack of enthusiasm. “I took a peek at it earlier—don’t scold me!—but truly, it’s fit for a king. The embroidery alone must have taken weeks. Gold-threaded patterns, sapphire embellishments, and a velvet cape so fine I nearly wanted one for myself.”

I hummed in response, keeping my gaze ahead as we crossed the entrance hall. She didn't notice my silence, too caught up in her own delight.

“I think Father would have been so proud. Everything is just perfect.”

We arrived at the end of the hall, coming face-to-face with the dining hall. “Henry!” a familiar voice called.

“Hello, Mother.”

She stepped out of the room, grinning, she pulled me into her arms. “You must be hungry. Come, dinner is ready.”

We stepped into the room. While I took my place at the head of the table, my mother, Dowager Queen Eleanor, sat at the end, and my sister to my left. Servants poured wine, the scent of roasted meat filling the space. “How was training today?” she asked.

“It was fine, Mother.”

“That’s good. A strong king commands respect. But strength is not the only thing you need, Henry.”

I exhaled slowly, already sensing where this was going. “You’re right, Mother. He needs wisdom, diplomacy, and a good council—”

“And a queen,” she interjected smoothly, taking a sip of her wine.

I set my cutlery down. “We’ve discussed this.”

“Not enough, Henry. The coronation is in a fortnight. It would be wise to ascend the throne with a wife by your side. A king without a queen invites speculation. Your father and I were married before his coronation. It brought unity to the realm.”

“Is it my fault I'm yet to find my mate?”

“You are twenty-eight. You cannot keep waiting for your fated mate. What if you never find her? That’s why the Gods give us the chance to choose. I have a list of candidates for you, Henry, ladies of noble standing, women who would bring strength to your reign.”

“I’m not interested, Mother.”

“You don't need to be interested to do the right thing,” she countered. Silence stretched between us.

Rosalind, sensing the tension, cleared her throat. “Well, if Henry’s going to choose a wife, I suggest someone who can tolerate his brooding.”

I sent her a dry look, but she merely grinned and sipped her drink. “I know you wish for freedom, my son. But a crown is not a light burden, nor is it meant to be carried alone.”

Footsteps echoed into the room. A guard walked to my mother, whispered something to her, and she left with him without saying a word.

Rosalind and I ate in silence. But curiosity gnawed at my fingers. What could make my mother leave in such a hurry?

“Excuse me,” I muttered to Rosalind and she nodded. Rising to my feet, I strode to the hallway but there was no sign of my mother. However, I heard faint voices, traced the sound and saw them conversing on the grand terrace—not my mother and the guard. She stood with one of Britanor’s naval captains.

“What of their king? Did you carry out my orders?” Dowager Queen Eleanor asked.

“The kingdom of Umudike stands desolate. As we speak, their king Ikechukwu, was murdered in cold blood and his people captured as slaves—men, women, children.”

“Good,” she muttered, overtly pleased. “The wealth and labor of these people will fuel Britanor’s strength. King Henry must never learn of these raids. He believes our kingdom thrives on diplomacy.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the captain bowed. “The official report will only mention the acquisition of new trade routes, nothing else.”

“Very good. You’re dismissed.”

A wave of fury crashed through me. How long has this been going on at my back? Men, women, CHILDREN, captured as slaves?

A growl left my lips before I could stop it, and I stepped away from the shadows. My mother's face was of pure mortification as she saw me.

“Henry?”

“How long has this been going on?”

“It’s not what you think. I-I can explain—” Before she could finish her sentence, I grabbed the naval captain and hauled him across the courtyard before turning to her again. My limbs elongated, my head reshaping and adjusting. The cracking sounds of bones filled the air even as my spine stretched, my clothes shredding into pieces as my ribcage expanded.

A deep guttural sound tore through my throat. I glanced at a window pane and my reflection was of my massive lycanthrope staring back at me.

My mother’s breath hitched. She grabbed her gown and staggered backward. “Henry, listen to me. This is not the way. You are king. A king does not let his emotions rule him—he rules them. Stand down, now!”

I approached her regardless. My nails elongated, sharp, long claws that glistened in the dark.

“You think I wanted this? That I enjoyed making these choices? You are naive if you believe diplomacy alone can keep Britanor strong! Do you know how many enemies would see this kingdom fall? You sit on a throne built on sacrifice, and sometimes, sacrifices must be made!”

“Henry?” Rosalind’s voice broke through the chaos. I flung around and saw her standing at the entrance of the terrace, gripping her gown tightly as she gazed at me with petrified eyes.

My gaze darted to the mirror before me. I was every bit the monster my mother and the captain were. The fact that I was the king of the army that raided the village.

Effortlessly, I bolted toward the fence. My limbs connected with the stone walls and I landed in the forest beyond.

I howled to the moon and bolted. The ground vibrated as I approached. A fallen log appeared in my path, but I cleared it with my hands and zipped forward.

The forest opened up to me in its cool ambiance and I welcomed it. The trees formed a dark haze, their branches swaying in the midnight breeze, but none could ease the pain tugging at my heart.

Whether I liked it or not, a village was raided, innocent people slain and captured under my reign.

I howled to the moon again and leaped over a gigantic rock. Arriving at a narrow stream, I slowed down and watched tiny fishes dart to the surface, their silvery bodies gliding through the moonlit water.

Just when I was about to settle down by the bank, I picked up the distant cry of a maiden. My head snapped in the direction. I don’t know why—but a wave of anxiety swept through me.

Snarling, I bolted toward the city. Within minutes, I emerged from the forest and landed on the rooftop of the first building. Howling to the moon, I sprinted forward, darting across roofs and then saw them—a group of men kicking a maiden sprawled on the floor. It wasn’t until I howled again and stepped into light, that they saw me.

Lightning streaked across the dark sky.

The lowlifes began to whimper in fear at recognizing me. Without hesitation, they turned around and scurried away. Two effortless leaps and I would be on them, but my attention darted back to the maiden. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen—her skin was deep brown of polished mahogany. She had large almond eyes, a delicate nose, and plump lips, though slightly bruised from the brutality she had endured. Her hair, a crown of thick, raven-black coils, was adorned with scattered coral beads, and she was dressed not in a flowing gown as most maidens from around here, but in a fine akwaete wrapper that stopped at her knees, revealing a pair of beautiful long legs.

The beads around her waist chimed softly as she scrambled to her feet. She stood unshaken, even as blood trickled from her nose. She gazed back at me with a defiant stare.

Suddenly, she swayed and was about crashing on the floor when I moved with the speed of lightning and caught her.