Mated to Two Lycan Heirs

Chapter 3: Infidel

Arthur's POV

I HAD BEEN grounded too many times that I lost count. But, I haven't been grounded for mixing with villagers. I kept my stare on Oman while he was stationed close to the door, his eyes in the direction of my father's in-house throne.

We never liked each other. He knew it. I could perceive the fakeness of his loyalty from a mile ago like an adult Lycan could perceive the scent of his mate. He bowed for me for my father and I cared less about that. All I wanted was to have him stop seeing himself like he owned Crimlot when out there to represent the Lycan throne.

I recalled how badly I craved to tell my father how he treats villagers like dirt and weaponise fear against them while raiding their huts and cottages in search of spies whom we all know do not exist. I longed to tell my father how haggardly he treats women who dare to stand up for their rights.

But…

Father wouldn't listen. He was too mad to ever let my words land. Perhaps, he felt I had pushed him to the wall and mightn't want to let it slide in a hurry.

With just a nod, father sent Oman off. I felt a heavy silence dangle over the chamber while Oman's footsteps kept fading at the distance.

“How long have you been flirting with a beggar, Arthur?” his thunderous voice echoed, reverberating on the walls of the stone walls.

I kept mute, letting his question land but he wrote it off as negligence.

“How long have you been flirting with that beggar?”

Not looking in his direction.

“She’s not a beggar, father.”

“That’s what you say ’cause you've slipped away from learning the ways of royalty like every heir should.”

“I know I'm an heir but I-I…”

“You’ve abandoned your roots.”

Angered. “I know my roots, father. I'm embracing it.”

“Same old boring crap. Tell that to your defensive mother,” he squalled.

“I try my best, father.”

Stomping his feet. “Then you have to try harder,” he roared.

Thoughts barraged my head while his roar droned the chamber. Petra is no beggar. She can't be. She has something special. It's all over her but most importantly, it's stuck in her eyes. She carries them with a glory that makes them glimmer even in the face of pain.

From royalties to royalties, I've seen what my people term the best of women but not for once did I find myself caught up in their puddle no matter how hard I tried. They were like traps too weak and unfit for staunch games like myself.

When Petra’s smiling face flooded my mind, I wondered if it'd be possible to let go. Father said true lycans recognize their type of game when they see it but when I did, he called it a mediocre game. I had no idea who flipped the scripts when it was my turn to roleplay.

I was still lost in a reverie when his voice came again. “For centuries, we've serviced the loyalties of our allies because of the nature of commitments we make. Our walls have grown taller and our armies are stronger because of who we are known to identify with.”

I knew where he was headed but just had to let him land.

“Our history does not know mediocrity. It's royalty or nothing,” he roared.

“What more level of royalty do we need? Petra's the daughter of an Alpha.”

“One who can't protect his people? Brent couldn't protect his people in an invasion from a weak nomad pack. We are yet to get over that display of weakness and then you call him royalty?”

“That’s history, father.”

“And you know what they say about a history that left a scar? It always comes back.”

Tension still hung in the air when mother walked in. She stared in my direction but I avoided her

eyes like a plague. It was one of those nights she'd show up to tell tales about why I should be scolded but not traumatized. Like father, I wasn't ready to hear it. My lips were already itching to tell him it'd be Petra or nothing else but the timing seemed awful. I could still feel him boiling like he was a jump away from pouncing on a prey.

The timing was perfect. Mother's words didn't find a breathing space when father shut her in. He turned to me after wambling down the stairs.

“You boycotted the heir ritual,” he began. “The council had me see reasons to consider more chances. I was so wrong to think that was all you've got. You floored the chamber's laws by impersonation and then for a beggar, you attacked a Yakai Chief…”

“Oman wouldn't tell you how exactly it happened. I-I…”

“Keep my general out of this…” he thundered.

“Listen. I was only protecting her from his aggression, father. You have to believe me.”

He adjusted the hem of his flowing robe and grabbed his orb. Nothing else announces the end of his summon better than that. One thing else. The presence of Oman. As if timed, Oman walked in, his eyes completely evading my direction.

His orb trained towards the entrance. “You might want to get yourself prepared. We have a mating ritual to plan.”

“A what?” I grumbled, shooting my mother a quizzical stare but she splayed her hands in surrender. “What mating ritual? I mean, for who?”

“You’re mating Dinah on the next moon feast,” he bloated, fluttering his eyes as he made for the exit.

“Y-y-you can't be serious, father. W-w-what are you…”

He'd halt on his tracks and toss his orb into the air without looking in my direction. “You’ve lost the right to debate that.”

“But I-I…”

“That’s an order, Arthur.”