REJECTED BY THE ROGUE PRINCE

The Lycan King's Burden

ADRIAN

I stood in the council chamber of the Northern Court, surrounded by aging advisors who looked at me like I was a troublesome child rather than their king.

"Your Majesty," Lord Brennan said for the third time. "You must marry. The crown requires an heir. The kingdom requires stability."

I resisted the urge to shift and tear his throat out. Barely.

"I can refuse," I said coldly. "And I will continue to refuse until you present someone who is not a simpering fool interested only in my crown."

Brennan's face turned red. "The ladies we have suggested come from the finest bloodlines!"

"Each one bores me to tears within five minutes." I stood from my throne, done with this meeting. "Find me someone with a mind of her own, and perhaps I will consider it."

I walked out before any of them could protest. My personal guard, Marcus, fell into step beside me.

"You know they will not give up," Marcus said.

"Let them try." I stalked through the corridors, servants pressing themselves against the walls. "I will not be forced into a political marriage like some prize bull."

Marcus was quiet for a moment. "Your father married for love."

"And look where that got him." The words came out harsher than I intended. "Dead at fifty, his heart broken when my mother was killed. Love makes you weak, Marcus. I will not repeat his mistakes."

We reached my private chambers. I dismissed Marcus and collapsed into the chair by the fire. Being king of the Northern Lycan Court was supposed to be an honor. In reality, it was a burden that grew heavier each year.

I was the most powerful Lycan in three generations. My wolf was larger, stronger, faster than any other. I had claimed my throne at twenty through combat. I had expanded our territory, negotiated treaties, and brought prosperity to my people.

But none of it was ever enough.

They wanted me to be married. They wanted heirs. As if I were nothing more than a means to an end.

A knock at the door interrupted my brooding. "Enter," I called.

It was Eliza, my younger sister. She swept into the room with her usual energy, her long dark hair swinging behind her.

"The council is furious with you," she announced, settling herself on the couch. "I could hear Lord Brennan shouting from three corridors away."

"Good. Perhaps his heart will give out and save me the trouble of dealing with him."

Eliza laughed. "You are terrible. He is only trying to help, you know."

"Help?" I turned to glare at her. "He parades simpering girls through my court like cattle at market. That is not help. That is insult."

"So find your own match." Eliza shrugged. "You are the king. You can marry whomever you want."

"Can I?" I stood and paced to the window. Beyond lay the vast forests of the Northern Reaches. "Every eligible woman in the realm wants to be queen. They look at me and see only the crown."

"Then look outside the realm."

I turned to stare at her. "What?"

"You heard me." Eliza's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Find someone from another territory. Someone who does not know you are king. Someone who will see you, Adrian, not just the Lycan crown."

"That is ridiculous."

"Is it? You have a month before the Harvest Moon Festival. You could travel in disguise, see the world beyond these walls. Maybe you will find someone interesting."

I wanted to dismiss her suggestion outright. But something about it sparked interest. When was the last time I had truly been free?

"The council would never allow it," I said.

"The council does not control you." Eliza stood and walked to me, placing her hand on my arm. "You are the most powerful Lycan alive, Adrian. You can do whatever you want. The question is, do you have the courage to actually do it?"

She left after that, her words hanging in the air like a challenge.

I stood at the window long into the night, watching the moon rise over the forest. Somewhere out there, people were living their lives without the weight of a kingdom on their shoulders.

What would it be like to be one of them, even for just a little while?

By the time the sun rose, I had made my decision.

I found Marcus in the training yard, overseeing the morning drills. He took one look at my face and dismissed the guards.

"What have you done?" he asked warily.

"Nothing yet." I grinned, feeling more alive than I had in months. "But I am about to. I need you to help me disappear for a month."

Marcus closed his eyes. "Your Majesty, please tell me you are joking."

"I am not. I want to travel south, into the wolf territories. In disguise. No guards, no crown, no advisors. Just me."

"There is nothing normal about you," Marcus said flatly. "You are a Lycan king. Your power radiates from you. Anyone with sense will know you are dangerous."

"Then I will say I am a rogue. A wanderer." I was warming to the idea now. "It will be fine."

"It will be a disaster," Marcus corrected. "But I can see you have already decided. Fine. I will help you. But on one condition."

"Name it."

"Take me with you. Someone needs to keep you from getting killed by your own stupidity."

I clasped his shoulder. "Deal."

Two days later, we left the Northern Court in secret. I wore simple traveling clothes and carried only a basic pack. My hair, usually kept neat for court functions, hung loose around my face. I looked like a common rogue.

The freedom was intoxicating.

We traveled south through territories I had only ever seen on maps. Small villages where children played in the streets. Market towns bustling with trade. Pack lands where wolves ran free under the open sky.

No one recognized me. No one bowed or called me Your Majesty. They just saw another wolf passing through. Some were friendly. Others were suspicious. But they treated me like a person, not a symbol.

It was wonderful.

We had been traveling for two weeks when we reached Silvercrest territory. It was one of the more prosperous regions, ruled by Alpha Marcus Silvercrest. I had exchanged letters with him regarding border treaties, but we had never met in person.

"We should avoid the main settlement," Marcus warned as we made camp one evening. "Someone might recognize you there."

"Agreed. We will stick to the smaller villages."

But fate had other plans.

The next morning, we stopped at a village market to buy supplies. It was a modest place, with vendors selling everything from fresh bread to hand-woven baskets. I was examining some dried meat when I heard raised voices nearby.

"I do not care if he is your brother, girl. You cannot have credit here. The Blackwater name means nothing to me anymore."

I turned to see a young woman arguing with a butcher. She was small, with dark hair pulled back in a simple braid. Her clothes marked her as minor nobility, but they were travel-worn and dusty.

"I will pay you back," she said firmly. "I give you my word."

"Your word?" The butcher laughed cruelly. "The word of a wolfless Blackwater? That is worth less than nothing. Now get out of my stall before I call the guards."

Wolfless. The word struck me oddly. I had heard of such things. Children born to wolf families who never shifted. But they were rare, and usually hidden away in shame.

This girl did not look ashamed. She looked angry.

"Fine," she said coldly. "Keep your overpriced meat. I hope it rots."

She turned and nearly walked straight into me. Our eyes met, and something strange happened.

The world seemed to stop.

She had green eyes, bright as spring leaves and just as alive. Power radiated from her, but it was not wolf power. It was something else. Something ancient and wild that called to my Lycan blood in a way I had never experienced before.

She felt it too. I could tell by the way her eyes widened, by the sharp intake of breath.

Then she shook her head, as if clearing it, and stepped around me without a word.

I stood frozen, watching her walk away through the market crowd. Every instinct I had screamed at me to follow her. To find out who she was. To understand why one look from a wolfless girl had affected me more than years of carefully selected potential brides.

"Adrian," Marcus said quietly beside me. "We should go."

"Who is she?" I asked, still staring after her.

"Trouble, by the looks of it." Marcus pulled on my arm. "Come on. We do not need to get involved in local dramas."

But I was already involved. Something about that girl had reached into my chest and grabbed hold. I did not understand it. I did not like it.

But I could not ignore it.

"Find out everything you can about the Blackwater family," I told Marcus as we left the market. "Especially about a wolfless daughter."

Marcus sighed. "This is going to end badly. You know that, right?"

I grinned. "Probably. But it will be interesting."

That night, as I lay in my bedroll staring up at the stars, I thought about green eyes and ancient power. About a girl who argued with butchers and held her head high despite being called wolfless.

Something told me my life was about to become much more complicated, and for the first time in years, I found myself looking forward to it.