The Lycan King's Defiant Surrogate

Caleb and I, as well as most of the soldiers sit in the back of the thick, while Tristan and one soldier sit up front. The ride to the capital is long, especially without a seat cushion, but not a ofe of us complains.

Without any light from outside, we are left in total darkness. As the trip progresses, Caleb slips his arm around my waist and tugs me closer against his side, farther from the others.

"She is a member of my harem, soldier," Caleb growls. "I don't care how loyal you are, I will protect what's mine."

"I didn't mean offense, King Caleb. I apologize," says one of the soldiers.

"Apologize by controlling yourself," Caleb adds.

I don't understand what's happening. In the dark, I can only make out shadowing figures. Still I get the distinct impression Caleb just saved me from something, so after inching even closer to him, I put myself on guard to the rest of the people around me. Another hour passes in uncomfortable silence. Then Caleb says, "We're almost to the gates."

"How can you tell?" I ask, as the other soldiers shuffle, preparing their weaponry.

"I'm king," he says, like that solves everything.

I continue to stare at where I think his face is in the dark. Eventually, he relents.

"I am the strongest Alpha in the kingdom, Harper. I can sense it

"Smell?"

"In part," he says.

As I was never gifted a wolf myself, many of his abilities are a mystery to me. He acts as though he has some kind of sixth sense that lets him determine where he is in the kingdom by feeling alone. I don't really know if I should believe such a thing is possible, but with Caleb, anything seems possible.

He's so powerful, so strong and capable. He should have died falling out of that window. Instead, he's here now like nothing ever physically happened to him. It's a wonder. He's a wonder.

"Quiet now. We're approaching the gates," Caleb says.

We all still, feeling as the truck comes to a stop. Through the walls of the back of the truck, I can hear muffled voices, but none of what is being said.

There's a moment where Caleb's hand clutches tighter around me. But, then, in the next instant, he relaxes again. The voices. shout something, and the truck starts up again. "We're through," Caleb says. We feel the shift as the truck descends down the corkscrew road, travelling deeper and deeper into the underground.

Once we reach the bottom, the road straightens out. We stay silent as the truck follows along a few roads, turning here and there. Eventually, we come to a stop again. "We're here," Caleb says.

I brace myself, expecting a fight right away, even though logically, I know the plan was to meet at a safe house first to

connect with Caleb's other loyal soldiers.

Someone outside unlocks the back of the truck and the door pushes open. I squeeze my eyes against the sudden light. Even the dim light of the underground burns my eyes compared to the total darkness in the back of the truck.

One by one the soldiers file out. I follow along behind them, blinking quickly to try to help my eyes adjust.

As I do, I notice many disparaged people standing around an old warehouse, all of their eyes on the back of the truck.

It's not me they are waiting to see so I quickly step out of the way

Caleb hop out next. A few gasps sound from the crowd, along with a few, "Thank the gods." Some of the people even fall to their knees, bowing before their returned king.

Caleb stands as regal as I've ever seen him, proudly taking in the sight. "My thanks to each and every one of you for standing against the traitor who has taken my place. When my crown is returned, I will see boons placed upon each of you as my gratitude for your loyalty."

More people bow. An older woman near me starts crying.

Through their eyes, I can see how beloved Caleb truly is by his people. They don't care how ruthless he can be within his palace walls. To them, they only see the man who provides.

Tristan then comes to Caleb's side. "I'll rally the troops. We'll be ready to leave on your go."

"How much time do we have before this ceremony?" Caleb asks, distain clear in his voice.

"5 hours," Tristan says.

"Good."

As Tristan hurries off and the others return to their work, Caleb approaches me, takes me by the elbow, and drags me off to a corner of the warehouse.

There, he affixes me with a stern look. "This is where you will stay until I come and collect you again."

"I can

help," I tell him at once.

He sighs, as if he'd already resigned himself to this fight. "You can help, by staying out of the way."

"I can wield a blade. The Pitmaster taught me."

"You could scarcely defend yourself against a few lions. How do you expect you would fare against bears and their silver bullets?"

"You are underestimating me," I say, annoyed.

"I am impartially judging your level of ability, Harper. If I bring you into the palace with me, I will spend more time protecting you than I will fighting my own battles."

"That's not true."

Maybe he's right about the actual fighting part. I know my blade skills are mediocre at best, and wouldn't do a hell of a lot against a bear with a gun. But I also know, that if I hadn't been there when Caleb needed me, he would have been found and killed in that alleyway. If I'm not there next time, who will shield him when he cannot shield himself? Can I fully trust even his most loyal soldiers to place his life above their own?

I don't want to insult Caleb by suggesting he can't take care of himself. He'd take that personally and will stop this argument with a firm No. That he is even entertaining this conversation at all means that I have a chance, however small, of convincing him to bring me along.

"I won't be a burden. I can carry my own," I say,

"Do you still have your knife?" he asks, frowning.

I reach into the pocket of my farm dress and withdraw my weapon. Still in its cover, it looks more like a pen.

"And you expect that to take down a bear," he says.

"It will take down whatever I need it to."

Caleb narrows his eyes at me. "If that's true, I propose this... If you can prove it, I will let without further argument.

you

come. Else, you

will stayContent is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

here

"How can I prove it?" I ask him. I'm determined to prove myself whatever it takes. Does he want me to show him the different stances I know? Perhaps he will roll in a training dummy or see my form as I lunge at some of the many wooden boxes in the room. The corners of his mouth quirk upward into a smug kind of smile. "Easy. We have a duel."