Arrogant

Harlyn

I stand confused as Stefan shakes his head at me. I led him to my mother's room; what more did he want right now? I wanted to find Samuel and ask about the wedding, I planned to ask Lucy, but she asked about why I left, and then Stefan interrupted us.

I hadn’t noticed he followed after I was introduced to Diandra, or rather, Princess Diandra. They make a perfect couple. She looks just as bossy as he does.

“Well, open it and guide us in,” Stefan orders. Every fibre of my being screams with the urge to lash out, to challenge his authority, but I know better than to provoke the king within his own kingdom.

Internally, however, I burn with the desire to punch him square in the jaw. How satisfying it would be to wipe that smug expression off his face. But, I am bound by the constraints of hierarchy here. This kingdom isn’t like Wayne’s small city.

It’s run by royalty, and they must be respected and followed.

With a heavy sigh, I push the door open, ready to turn and walk away as soon as I announce the king’s arrival. I hear my father's voice. Instantly, my nerves were set on edge. I didn’t know he would be here, and I would rather avoid him.

“Mother, the king is here to see you,” I announce quickly. As I get ready to exit, Stefan’s hand grips mine. What the hell?

“Where are you going?” His gaze bores into mine, and I try not to recoil from him.

“Away. I have plans, Your Majesty,” I reply. I attempt to free myself from his grasp. But he tightens his grip and refuses to release me. His change in personality leaves me to wonder what has made him change. Did he have a knock to the head recently? Usually, he keeps a considerable distance between us.

“I asked you to guide us in, so you will,” he commands, and I fight against rolling my eyes at his stupid behaviour.

“The door is open, and you can see my mother,” I point out. Frustration bubbles beneath the surface as I challenge his order. I know it’s wrong, but I don’t want to be with him or in the same room as my father. That’s like two hits in one.

“Harlyn, I asked you to guide us in. You’re also family, so should be present and spending time with your ill mother.” Stefan’s use of my name catches me off guard. It’s unusual. He usually calls me some derogatory name, but he has never used the name Harlyn. I think he’s concussed; that’s the only explanation.

He’s right. However, I should spend time with my mother. I won’t get back this time, and I can’t avoid her every time my father is close by.

With a resigned sigh, I reluctantly step into the room, his hand firmly clasping mine. Confusion claws at me as I attempt to understand his motives. What game is he playing now, and why has his treatment of me suddenly changed?

I move towards my mother, but Stefan’s hand remains on mine. He’s not even noticed. With a tug, I wrench my hand free. He glances down, confused, and seems to realise that he has hold of me.

I can still feel the way his thumb was stroking along my skin.

“Your Majesty,” Mother acknowledges Stefan with a graceful nod. Her eyes brighten at my presence. It is clear that she has been eating; already, there is a light within her eyes. I just hope she doesn’t do this again. It’s reckless. All so I can be here to watch Samuel marry.

“Hi, Mother,” I greet her. I offer her a warm smile, my heart swelling with relief at the sight of her recovering form. Turning to my father, I try and smile, but I fail. “Hello, Father.” I offer a polite nod, receiving nothing back. His eyes glare at me. He hates that I’m here.

Samuel said he agreed, however, but I can see on his face he would rather I wasn’t here.

Stefan calls in guards, and I watch them walk in with flowers and gifts for Mother. They place them down and then leave the room again. Mother accepts them graciously, though I feel she should throw them in his face, but then again, that’s because he’s annoying the hell out of me.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Mother murmurs.

“You’re looking better,” Stefan remarks, his smile genuine. I wonder how often he has visited her since she began this hunger strike. “Mother wishes you well and can’t wait for you to be able to visit again,” he adds. The queen is a fantastic woman. She is my mother’s best friend, so I can only assume she misses her. They often spent a lot of time together at the palace. They were like me and Lucy, always together and inseparable.

“Oh, I will visit soon, I promise. I have more energy now,” Mother assures him. She looks from Stefan to me. “Harlyn, come here, please,” she beckons. Her hands outstretched in a silent plea.

“May we speak, your Majesty?” My father looks at Stefan, and he nods. I watch as they step out of the room.

I rush to my mother's side and wrap her in a hug. My concern for her well-being quickly removes the thoughts of Stefan and his touch. “Have you eaten, Mother?” I ask. My focus is solely on her recovery.

Her nod reassures me. Now, however, I need to be brutal and ensure she realises this can’t happen again. “You can’t do this again, Mother,” I plead.

She looks at me and nods. “No more foolishness, I promise, as long as you don’t rush off so soon,” she insists. I want to agree, but my father’s heavy sigh from outside the door means he can hear and isn’t happy with that. I also don’t want to hurt my mother, though.

“I will try, Mother, but you mustn’t do this to yourself again. I’m fine, you know that,” I assure her. I hold her close as my father’s heavy sigh echoes and spreads into the room. He doesn’t need to worry. I am leaving soon.

“It’s so good to see Harlyn,” Mother says. She keeps saying that like I’ve just walked back in this second.

“It’s wonderful to see you too, Mother,” I reply. I smile despite the hurt that this is causing, knowing that I can’t agree to see her. I watch as her hand drifts to mine where the ring is.

“We can discuss everything later when we have some privacy. Your brothers took all your attention earlier, didn’t they?” she says, and I shake my head.

“Mother, you needed to prioritise your health and well-being. You look much better now,” I remind her. I am genuinely relieved to see the improvements in her already. The spark in her eyes, the vigour in her demeanour—it’s evident that she is finally eating again. Her wolf seems to have strength now and is helping heal her.

“I understand, but I want to spend every moment I have with you, my dear,” she confesses, pulling me into another embrace. My heart aches at the thought of causing her pain, of shattering her hope. But I know deep down that I cannot stay when the rift between me and father remains. There is no way to fix it, he won’t ever accept that I wasn’t to blame, and I will never agree with him calling me a whore.

Three days. That’s all I promised to stay—a fleeting visit. And though the thought of leaving fills me with guilt, I know that staying longer will only cause more hurt for her. It’s a painful truth, but my father will cause a war if I stay any longer. She will then be stuck in the middle and be ripped apart when I am forced to leave.

I refuse to stay here when my father still sees me as the issue. When he still refuses to accept that my pregnancy wasn’t caused by my unladylike behaviour. I feel nothing will make him see the truth, though.