Bloodbound [Werewolf]

Chapter Five

Conan kept dragging me away from the throne room, past the familiar hallways and into ones I rarely explored. Despite being in a state of shock from seeing my father die and having people turn their backs on me, I realized how wrong it was to be following Conan out of the blue — most especially after I'd rejected him. I began to protest, struggling to free myself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. He kept pulling until he finally pushed past a seemingly old door, tugging me inside along with him. It was dimly lit, but I could sense how stressed he was as the air inside the slightly stuffy room started smelling like burnt rubber.

I pushed away from him, covering the lower half of my face with my arm. I furrowed my brows. I had to put my mind to something, even if it was what annoyed me at present time. Because if I didn't, I would think about how my world had just fallen apart. If I didn't, everything inside me would break. "Your scent. It's nauseating."

I thought for sure that would make him aware of what he was doing, perhaps even glare at me with a snarky remark. Instead, he sat me down on a worn couch and paced while shakily, murmuring incoherent words. I watched him with narrowed eyes — patience thinning faster that the speed of light. I could feel the burn behind my eyes, and if I couldn't get somewhere private soon, I was going to meltdown in front of him.

"This is bad. This is really, really bad." I heard him say. That was perhaps the last straw for me. 

"Bad? BAD?! MY FATHER'S GODDAMN CORPSE IS STILL THERE WHILE THEY ARE CELEBRATING?! AND YOU THINK IT'S JUST BAD?!"

I hitched a breath when he turned my way, a flash of what looked to be pity crossing his eyes before they became desperate again. It frustrated me — how dare he pity me? But, then again, seeing me now — exiled from the throne and hated by the people I was meant to rule — perhaps I was more than pitiful; perhaps I was pathetic.

"We need to get your sister off the throne. Fast." He spoke with urgency, lighting up a torch that hung off the cobble wall. He rummaged through drawers of knives, pulling some out before moving on to the next drawer. I scanned our surroundings, surprised to see a dark walk-way into an adjacent room. Even with my advanced sight, I could barely make out whatever lay inside.

Where have we gone to? I do not recall having been in this room at all. And how did Conan even know how to get here and what to look for?

I turned back, only to find him still frantically fishing through the drawers. Clenching my fists, I asked with a tight voice, "Are you not supposed to be overjoyed like the rest of them? I was not crowned. I was humiliated by the people and my sister, like I have done to you."

I heard him scoff. "Don't get me wrong, Evelyn. You are still the rude, spiteful girl who rejected me in front of the entire court, and honestly, I would have wanted anyone but you to ascend the throne. Except... except Cienna. We cannot have her in a position of power."

I blinked, stunned by his response. It took me a few moments to find my words. "But... it was I who belittled you. So why... why are you helping me?"

To my absolute shock, he snapped back, "Because there was never a surprise attack. It was coordinated."

"W... what?" I stuttered, taken aback and completely petrified. He sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration before finally looking back at me with seriousness.

"The king's death was planned." He paused, debating, but continued on in a bitter tone. "Cienna orchestrated it."

"What are you saying? I saw the look in her eyes that time she killed the enemy. I saw how shaken she was. I know she wanted the throne, but to kill our father is just pure evil."