SAVANNAH
The King's carriage was spacious and comfortable, lined with soft red and black velvet.
We left the castle that morning, traveling along winding roads toward a distant pack. As soon as we emerged from the dark fog that shrouded the forest, I tensed up, nervously glancing out the window.
It's absurd to think they might still be hunting me outside the Winter Moon pack. They probably don't even imagine I'm still alive.
His Majesty sat across from me, absorbed in some manuscripts, lost in his own world. He was a man of few words, and the journey was starting to drag on, becoming rather dull.
At some point, I must have dozed off, only to be jolted awake by a sudden bump from the carriage.
Warmth pressed against my side, and I realized my head was resting on a broad, firm shoulder.
"I'm sorry, My Lord!" I straightened up so fast I might have been mistaken for a plank of wood, realizing I had fallen asleep on the King.
Wasn't he sitting across from me?
"Why are you apologizing this time? For breathing or for drooling on my shirt?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned to look down at me.
I immediately scanned his dark shirt for any damp spots, but apparently, His Highnesslearned to tease me.
"Go back to sleep, Savannah. We're still far from our destination," he murmured, his rough hand gently pushing my head back toward his shoulder.
The journey continued at a crawl.
Outside, the temperatures were low, but nestled between the carriage wall and the giant form of King Fenrir, a protective warmth enveloped me, and I ended up falling asleep again.
When I finally stirred, still half-asleep, I found that the carriage stopped and I was alone.
I could hear voices outside.
To my surprise, I found the King's heavy cloak draped over me, covering me almost entirely. Folding it carefully, I ran a hand through my tangled hair and peeked out the window.
"Awake already?" His sudden appearance startled me. "Come on, get out. We'll be staying here for the night."
I nodded, pulling my own dark cloak over my head, its hood shading my face from prying eyes. I hate the way people stare at me, like I'm some kind of spectacle.
I looked around; We were in a small courtyard, with a stable behind us and an old wooden and stone building in front.
"Follow me, Savannah, always close to me, don't stray," were the short and precise orders I followed without hesitation.
I trailed behind him and the coachman as we passed through a gate and came to the front of the building.
The sign above the entrance read "Sunrise Inn." Fenrir motioned for me to go ahead, and we entered.
Inside was a bustling hall with tables full of diners, and to the side, a long reception desk where the innkeeper stood. As we made our way over, curious eyes followed us.
It was impossible not to draw attention with such a commanding figure beside me.
Few had the opportunity to see King Fenrir in person; there were many distorted exaggerations about him, but the werewolves felt the hierarchy and recognized a Lycan when he was near.
The Lycans were rare, but the Guardians and the King were not the only ones in the realm.
"I need three rooms, all together," he demanded from the innkeeper in his usual blunt manner.
"I... I'm sorry, Your Excellency, but we don't have three available rooms, only two, and they are... distant," the thin man trembled visibly with fear.
"Is there another inn in this town?" Fenrir asked with a frown.
"N-no, Your Excellency. But if you wait until tomorrow, perhaps—"
"I can't go back to come back tomorrow. Give me those two rooms," he interrupted, and I already felt sorry for the poor man.
However, I shouldn't worry about the others when I would be the most affected by this.
"Savannah, you'll be sharing the room with me, and the boy will be in the other," he ordered, turning to look at me very calmly.
What?! I wanted to yell at him, exasperated.
"Is something bothering you?" he raised an eyebrow, noticing my dissatisfaction.
"My L-Lord, I think it's a bit unreasonable for us to share a room. You'd be... uncomfortable."
"So, you'd rather sleep with the boy?"
"No!" I blurted, glancing nervously at the coachman, who looked like he was silently begging me not to. "I could, um... sleep in..."
Where on earth could I stay?
"Lord, I... can rest in the stable with the horses..."
"Did I ask for your opinion?" Fenrir's sharp gaze turned on the coachman, and the poor man looked like he might faint on the spot.
Almost wetted himself.
We were holding up the line and drawing more attention, so I reluctantly gave in, as always.
"I'll stay with you, My Lord," I muttered, wishing I could strangle him—though my small hands would never fit around that thick neck.
The innkeeper saw a way out and immediately handed over the keys to get rid of us.
Just as we were about to leave, the inn door swung open, and a tall, burly man entered, his brown hair slicked with sweat, fear evident in his wide eyes.
The moment he spotted Fenrir, he went pale and approached him with a deep bow.