The Lycan King's Forbidden Craving - Chapter 101: Chapter 101

The gate creaked open, allowing Toran into the small chamber where his father was being kept—a room more like a cell.
Toran stared at his father, observing his disheveled state. The man reeked of the word unkept. Just as the King had declared, no one attended to this male.
No bath. No treatment. Poor meals.
Magnus looked like a battered man abandoned on the streets. His hair was messy, skin pale, his clothes marred with dirt, and the dried blood from the banquet ceremony still stained his inner pants—the only fabric that clad him.
Magnus slowly met his gaze, chest rising and falling weakly. His eyes were empty.
*Toran*
Magnus mind-linked him. Toran’s blank expression shifted momentarily before he spoke.
“You look like shit, Father. Lucky for you, creatures like us can mind-link—if not,” Toran took a dramatic sigh, “I wonder how you'd sound without your tongue.”
Rage burned in Magnus’s eyes as he shot a hard glare at his son.
*Bastard!* he cursed through the mind link.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hit that nerve of yours?” Toran snorted. “Of course I did. The great Magnus Venis, confined in a cold chamber, looking like shit.”
Magnus looked away, shutting his eyes. *This is your first time visiting me, and this is all you've got to say? You're lucky I’m still healing—I’d love nothing more than to cut you open.*
Toran clicked his tongue, scoffing. “Well, I’ll see you try.”
Magnus’s jaw clenched, then he slowly looked up at Toran, tears burning in his eyes. *I failed.*
*I failed the pack. I failed everyone who looked up to me. I failed my position. I failed my family. I failed myself.* Magnus bit down on his lip, anger burning in his chest. *Everything I worked for… all of it down the drain.*
Toran rolled his eyes, not the slightest pity in them. “You sulking won’t change anything.”
*Why are you here then? To mock me? Clearly, you’re not here to console me or offer something that might, perhaps, soothe my pain.*
Toran chuckled. “Correct.” He stepped forward and sat across from him. “You don’t expect me to console you after all the pressure you laid on my shoulders. The fucking stupid loss hanging over my neck right now because of the promises you made—only to get drunk at the ceremony and curse at the King.”
Magnus groaned. *I thought she was dead. The witches I used… and the fucking King's slave…*
“Uh-huh,” Toran raised a finger. “Point of correction—she is no longer a slave. And I told you the witch and assassins plan was a bad idea.”
*What do you mean she’s no longer a slave?* Magnus raised a brow, and Toran explained.
“Her dumb ex-mate’s crimes were exposed during the combat trial. He’s currently being tortured. Her name is being cleared, and soon enough, she’ll be declared free from the chains that bound her.” He chuckled.
“Creepy, right? And oh,” Toran's voice edged with amusement, “I heard the King is gathering Alpha daughters just to calm the uproar after the dethronement of my lovely sister. Want to know the sweet part?”
Magnus's eyes widened at every word.
Toran continued, “Since Arianna is no longer a slave, that means she’s an Alpha’s daughter—and there’s a high probability she’ll be the King’s next betrothed.”
*How could you let that happen? Why didn’t you stop it?!*
Magnus’s eyes were as wide as the moon.
*Why didn't you stop her from being freed? You could have just found a way to make her look like a liar—or even kill Kael before the truth comes out!*
“You see, Father, that’s the difference between you and me.” Toran let out a soft chuckle. “All my life, I thought you were really smart—but you’re getting old.”
Magnus let out a warning growl. *Says the male who spends most of his time with women rather than helping!*
Toran simply smirked.
“Have a nice day, Father. The mask ceremony is about to start, and I plan to have three women in my bed,” Toran muttered in a hoarse voice, rising to his feet. “Though, I mostly want one in particular.” His mind drifted off to her.
*What are you planning? Are you just going to sit and fuck while watching her become Queen? Our pack will fall beneath that late bastard Thane! If Arianna becomes Queen, we’re screwed!* Magnus snapped through the mind link.
Toran replied through the link this time, his voice dangerously calm.
*You know damn well I won't let Arianna become Queen.*
Magnus’s eyes squinted. *How are you going to stop it if she becomes the King's betrothed? She's already one step away!*
“You worry too much, dear Father,” Toran smirked. “Night, night.”
With that, Toran left the cell, while Magnus stared intensely into space.
*I have one hell of a psychopath son… Sounds like good news. He has a plan.*
••••••••••••
Later, in Toran’s room—after dressing up for the ceremony—he heard a knock at his door. Upon his permission, the door creaked open and a familiar male stepped in.
“You better give me good news, or I’ll cut your little daughter’s throat,” Toran warned.
“We got there before the palace guards. The elder we abducted is old and one of those who supported Kael during his betrayal…”
“Just get straight to the damn point. Is she a bastard or not?” Toran’s voice grew impatient.
“A half-bastard. The Luna of the pack wasn’t her mother.”
Toran’s eyes narrowed, confusion flickering in them. “Half-bastard?”
“Years ago, before Alpha Thane courted his Luna, he slept with a strange woman who saved his life during a war—that child is Arianna Greystone. The elder said she was unfit to be Luna and had conspired against her.”
Toran’s eyes shifted, piecing it all together. So Arianna was indeed a bastard—half-bastard.
It would’ve been better if Thane wasn’t her real father; he could’ve used that to discredit her as the King’s betrothed. But still—that didn’t erase the bigger question.
Who was Arianna’s real mother?
“I guess I’ll have to question the elder myself after the Grand Festival is over,” Toran muttered.
There’s still time to find her weakness—something that would break them apart.
A king must court his betrothed for at least three to six month before crowning her as his Luna.
There’s still time. But he needed to act fast.