The Lycan King's Healer
The Lycan King’s Healer – Chapter 61

“Oh, my god,” I said, staring at the bow in horror. I recognized the arrow in the bow; it was grotesquely familiar, the arrow that had been haunting my life and my nightmares.

He knelt down to examine the corpse of his victim. I dared to look too despite the ugly wound, grimacing. Even as a healer, I did not grow accustomed to the sight of b***d. I stared at the man’s face in confusion, puzzled as to why I recognized his weapons but not his face.

“I don’t know him,” I said in anger, “do you?”

Aldrich shook his head. “I don’t, either.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I snapped, storming up to the body. I hated the man. I hated his unfamiliar unseeing eyes and his weathered, old face and his unrecognizable hair. How could I not recognize someone that was trying to kill me and everyone I loved the past few months?

“This is f*****g propoersterous,” I said as I grabbed the arrow from the bow and violently impaled him with it in the chest, crying out in frustration. I didn’t care as the b***d splattered on my fingers. “Who are you?”

“Calm down,” Aldrich soothed, stepping closer to me. He grabbed the back of my arm, but I spit onto the man’s face, glaring in fury. I didn’t even hate him more than I despised the unfamiliarity of him.

“No!” I said, shaking my head, “I will not calm down. We finally found the archer that has been terrorizing us for months, but we don’t even recognize him!”

“He could be one of many, Cathy,” he comforted me, pulling me into him. I sighed, trying to relax as he pressed his lips to my temple.

“Well, is he at least a vampire?” I hissed through gritted teeth.

“No,” he answered as he narrowed his eyes at the man considerably, “he is an average werewolf. No noble b***d or superior abilities.”

“I can’t believe this.” I ran my hands through my hair in frustration as he draped his arm around my waist.

“Let’s go home, honey. We should clean up and go to bed early…I think we’re both very sleep deprived,” Aldrich urged, drawing circles on my h*p bone.

After glaring at the carcass for a couple more moments, I nodded.

***

After the hectic afternoon, we decided to sleep through the evening and night. We cleaned up any splattered b***d and bathed in such tranquility, I fell asleep against him in the bathtub. He carried me to bed and folded me in the silk sheets as I snoozed away, drifting into a nightmare free sleep.

I woke up to his absence, however, and instead to the entrance of several maids. The main maidservant’s arms were fully contained by large articles of clothing, as if it was the middle of the winter.

“What is all this?” I frowned in puzzlement as another maid approached me with a crochet floppy hat that people wear on the coast. It would surely swallow my entire head.

“The Prince’s orders, my lady,” the maid carrying the trench coat responded with a polite smile.

“He ordered you to bring me a wardrobe?” I questioned, cocking an eyebrow. “What for?”

“Prince Aldrich did not specify, my lady,” another maid interjected as they stood waiting for me to get out of bed.

I sighed before untangling myself from the sheets. They got to work immediately, dressing me in a long, Victorian trench coat along with boots to match. To my pleasure–and I note that sarcastically–they accessorized the outfit with the crochet hat. I felt as if I was being swallowed whole, already sweating.

He was going to pay for this.

I bounded down the stairs to the foyer to try to find him. I immediately spotted him at the front entrance along with all of the guards, and once he saw me, I shot a bone chilling glare at him. He only grinned.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demanded as I stormed up to him, outraged at the prank. My anger simmered slightly when I noticed he was wearing a servant’s hat along with a plain tunic and ragged looking pants. At least we both looked foolish.

“What? You don’t like it?” he joked, his grin glowing and boyish.

“Why are we dressed like two caricatures?” I asked harshly, and the guards flanking him laughed.

“You’ll see,” he promised. He offered his arm to me, gesturing toward the door. “Let us go.”

“Go where?”

He blinked at me before his face nursed the expression of someone very ominous and capable of inflicting punishment. “I said, let us go.” His tone was more firm, more husky.

I gave in just this once. If there was no one around, I would’ve forced him to grab me by the throat if he wanted me to leave dressed like this. But I’d rather not allude to our s*x life in the midst of his workers.

He escorted me across the stone tiled driveway to the horse drawn carriages, and I couldn’t help but remember the fairytale book Theo had us read that night. Maybe he was right; maybe we were a proper prince and princess duo. Minus the hideous outfits.

I watched out the carriage in curiosity as we traveled through the kingdom toward the main village. I had not been able to return since that night, and my stomach twisted with guilt when I noticed handfuls of sick people on the sidewalks. But we rode past them, and I vowed to myself I would return after admitting it to Aldrich.

The carriage stopped in front of a French bistro. Aldrich scrambled out of the carriage and then offered his hand to help me out. I took it as I stepped down, shooting him a suspicious look.

I did not expect to get a word in before the people of the village bombarded him, but I waited one moment, then two, then three, and realized it was not happening. Even when we walked up the bistro and strided close to people sitting at their tables, no one said a word.

“Notice anything different?” he asked, smirking.

“No one recognizes us,” I gasped with a grin. No attention, no heavy eyes, no glares or smiles of approval or female admirers. It was as if we were average civilians, like I once was.

“I know how much you hate all the attention we get,” Aldrich declared under his breath, taking my hand in his hand again to interlace our fingers.

We dined outside under the autumn sun; it was crip enough to cool the sweat on my skin, but pleasant enough to feel the sun caressing my face when I looked up from under my hat of disguise. We ordered honey tea, cheese, and grapes to start the meal. My stomach growled at the thought of it, and I looked around in wonder, admiring the restaurant’s flower decorations and French inspired art.

“This is amazing,” I said with a smile of glee, curling my hand around my cup of tea, “you really out did yourself, Tom.”

“Tom?” he snorted in amusement, a grin forming.

“That is your fake identity,” I told him. Just as I was taking a sip from my tea, I heard a woman’s voice emerge from behind me.

“I know you.”