521 Disheveled Guest
King Davin deeply inhaled the rich scent of high-quality coffee, lightly swooning in the process. Even for a king, this was a luxury he could appreciate. What was more, he had been given the best quality milk to add to the beverage, creating the perfect drink to start his day.
Since this was a day for the contestants to rest, his day was starting a bit later than normal. Without having to tend to his duties as the king, he was determined to relax as much as he could.
Sadly, heâd woken up to a cold bed with his mate nowhere in sight and this had thrown him into a somewhat sour mood. Coffee was his first attempt at relieving himself of the slight irritation that lingered.
Upon searching the mind link, he discovered his mateâs location.
Queen Martha had just stepped out for a breath of fresh air, not knowing how long it would be before the king awoke. Davin was just glad she was safe and nothing had happened, but stillâ¦
*sigh* he went, his mood plummeting once more.
While this was clearly unfair and childish, his emotions didnât listen to reason and as a result, he sought other ways to ward off the negativity.
As he relished the scent of coffee, his mind was suddenly bombarded with waves of excitement and anticipation. The king flinched, a drop of coffee tumbling to the marble kitchen counter.
Paying the commotion more attention, it sounded like cheering. The king figured his bored pack members had found some way to entertain themselves on this boring and empty day.
.....
âHmph! Good for them,â the king sighed.
As soon as heâd managed to block out the packâs excitement, a rich melodic female voice assaulted his sensitive ears, unconsciously demanding his attention and ripping his focus away from the fine brew of coffee, âHoney, have you heard whatâs going on in one of the sports centres?â
King Davin turned around to witness his beautiful wife dressed in a lacy gown that was a tad bit too revealing for his grumpy emotional state to stand.
For a moment, he was tongue-tied.
âSports centre! No⦠N-Nothing about that. H-Have you always had that gown?â he asked, his voice rising up a few octaves.
âNo, I found it among the clothes prepared for our stay here. What? Is it a bad look for me?â the queen quickly twirled around, checking herself to make sure she looked fine.
âBad! No, that is the last thing on my mind right now,â the king cooed mentally, forgetting to actually answer the question.
Queen Martha turned back to her husband, noticing his gawking silence. The queen smirked, âOh! So itâs that kind of dress. Want me to keep it?â
âAhem! Yes, please,â the king coughed, snapping out of his daze.
âUnderstood! Now, focus, my love. Lina is playing a game of basketball against Cole in one of the sports centres. Itâs being broadcast everywhere,â the queen approached her husband and pulled him away from his freshly prepared cup of coffee.
The king reached out for the cup but was too late to grab it.
âMy coffââ
âHurry up. Since when do you drag your feet?â the queen was especially pushy today, not that Davin was complaining.
A few moments later, they were seated on a lush sofa watching an unbelievable show of power between the two teams. âLinaâs team is strong. Even though their skills are not well polished, their raw talent and abilities are enough to make up for the gap in skills.
Coleâs team is relying on their experience and talent. Except for Kyle of course,â the king observed as he watched.
âHas Lina always been that fast, dear?â Queen Martha asked all of a sudden.
From the very start of the game, Lina had demonstrated abilities beyond what they could have thought possible. From what they could tell, she didnât seem to be showing signs of getting tired either.
âYou saw how she returned from the Trials,â the king sighed. It seemed each one of his children was developing some form of odd power. Except for Drake, of course, who had managed to grow an attitude bigger than his head.
Halfway through the game, the chime of the doorbell interrupted their peaceful company. King Davin lazily turned to face the door. However, the ringing didnât stop there. Instead, the doorbell rang again and again⦠Becoming too frequent to ignore.
âIâll get it,â King Davin sighed, walking up to the double doors. From the other side of the door, a dark-haired man came rushing in, his hair a mess and sweat glistening off his brow. His quiver was almost empty and there were a few cables dragging from his bow and attached to a shattered steel shaft of an arrow.
Davin only vaguely understood how the hunters used their bows and arrows to travel faster, especially through trees. It was a rare skill that only very skilled hunters were able to learn and utilise in the field.
âMicah?! Whatâs wrong? What happened?â the king asked.
The hunter rushed in and began pacing about the living room, rubbing his hand through his hair in exasperation.
Queen Martha quickly covered herself with a sheet the king hadnât noticed and guided the hunter to the sofa after which she offered him a drink.
The hunter shook his head, rejecting the queenâs offer, rubbing his hair and placing his face in his hands. His eyes flashed with a myriad of emotions but no words came out⦠at first.
Micah was disoriented and the first time he tried to speak, his words didnât make sense.
âHey, take a moment to catch your breath,â Queen Martha tried, staring at him with concern in her eyes.
âNo⦠no, no time for that. Everyoneâs in danger⦠Rogues⦠Humans⦠Werewolves⦠Prometheus! I donât even know who the enemy is anymore,â the hunter cursed, burying his head in his hands.
âWhat are you talking about?â the king asked, âIt helps to take us through what happened to you.â
âI went to check on the mast to see if I could⦠if I could fix it like Marie did a few years ago⦠but⦠but I found it trashed. Well, I figured it would be trashed⦠butâ¦â Micahâs tone was getting worse and he paused to catch his breath. When heâd managed to calm himself down, he spoke again, âI found one of the rogue generals there.â
There was a short pause as the information sank in.âWhat?â the king asked.
âThatâs not the worst part. The rogues⦠they have done something terrible. I donât know how but they managed to turn someone into a werewolf. I donât even know why he let me goâ¦n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
No, actually, I know exactly why he let me go. He knew me warning everyone would do nothing to stop whatâs coming,â the man covered his eyes, trying to discern a way to protect everyone but to no avail.
âYouâre not making sense. We donât have the power to turn humans into werewolves anymore,â the king announced furiously, feeling somewhat insulted by this. For a long time, part of the fear that was directed towards the royals came from their cursed bite. Now that it wasnât the case, the king wasnât happy to hear about it again.
âIâm not saying you have that power. Iâm not a werewolf professional so I donât even know how most of it works. But what I do know and trust are my senses.
Since the end of the battle in Lycaon, there hasnât been a trace of animosity except for a few odd times after that dayâ¦
And even then, we were always too late to discern what had happened. Back then, I feared that the rogues were coming up with some sort of scheme,â Micah spoke fast, making sure each word was clear.
If there was any chance of saving everyone, then he would have to ask the royals for help. As a single hunter, there was only so much he could do⦠but if there was some way the royals could help, he was willing to take a chance.
These thoughts had run through his mind on his way to the Royal Suite. He knew the hunters would follow him the moment he said something but there was no telling what the hunters could do.
He knew the capabilities of the hunters well. This situation was not their field of expertise⦠but that wasnât the case with the werewolves.
That was the reason heâd run to the Royal Suite first before going anywhere else. They knew more about their kind than any of the hunters could claim to.
âThink about it, Your Majesty. Over the past few months, there have been increasing cases of people attacked within the woods but they were always ruled off as mere animal attacks and the victims treated.
Those victims⦠I never paid attention to them⦠but simply because of how many they were, I was forced to know about this. Rogues havenât been sighted in a long time and Samson shows up out of nowhere, cuts off communications and doesnât care to attack the Great Arena. You know the power of the rogue generals, Your Majesty.â
King Davin took into account everything that the man was saying. It shouldnât have been possible for him to be telling the truth. But then again, there was the fact that he claimed to have seen someone that had been turned into a werewolf with his own two eyes.
Accepting this âtheoryâ meant too much for the people in the Great Arena.
Another knock came at the door, this one less urgent.
Queen Martha turned to her husband, searching for an answer to how they would proceed. Unfortunately for them, this was not a choice either of them could make.
A message came through the mind link immediately, bombarding the kingâs mind, âYour Majesty, you have a messenger from the Sirius capital. She has a form signed by Alpha Phillips. It bears your Royal Seal,â a deltaâs voice echoed into the kingâs mind.
King Davin rushed to the door and opened it. Standing on the other side was a group of five people. Two of them were human, a young man and a lady who naturally appeared to be made for each other.
A woman with amber eyes that heâd come to know as Honourâs mother, Whitney. This one he knew well and had grown fond of.
The delta that had brought them⦠and the last one.
A woman with grey eyesâ¦
Grey eyes.
The kingâs eyes widened the moment he saw her. Despite her young appearance which was in contrast to Madelineâs description of her, she bore a striking resemblance to the girl.
The connection between the two was undeniable. This was Madelineâs âgrandmother.â
The look in her eye, however, was not a happy one⦠It was more a look of barely restrained urgency.
âCome in, please,â the king offered with a tight-lipped smile.
For some reason, her presence felt even more ominous than that of a dishevelled Micah.