There Will Be No Wedding

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CHAPTER 3

Arriving at Ryland’s building, the three werewolves sent by Eretria lowered their heads as they delivered the news to her.

“Did you finish the job?” Ryland asked, clutching his bandaged stomach with his left hand.

Before either of the werewolves could speak, Eretria stepped forward, her gaze sharp as she accessed them. “No.”

All three heads snapped up to look at her when she responded. How did she know? They pondered, but no one dared speak.

“If they did not finish the job, they wouldn’t have had the audacity to return,” she stated boldly while lifting her chin and staring down at them in an imposing manner.

Although her father served as the Alpha of the pack's advisor, most men feared and adored her for her beauty and ruthlessness.

“Their return simply meant they did. Now,” she lifted a brow, waiting for their report, “what news have you? How was my sister’s death?”

One of the werewolves was about to answer when she cut asking, “Was it gruesome?”

“It most definitely was, My Lady,” the werewolf answered while lowering his head.

“How gruesome?” Eretria asked, to their surprise. “Details? Did you bite off her head?”

“No. My apologies, but before we could do more damage, she fell off the cliff by the dangerous forest.”

“What?!” Ryland reacted in horror. “That is…” Eretria whipped her head to the side, that single action made him shut his mouth. “Huh, um, I mean, there’s no way she could have survived that fall, right?”

“She couldn’t. She won’t,” the second werewolf reassured him.

“How sure are you?” Eretria enunciated, pulling all her attention to herself.

“I have this.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved the piece of clothing he tore off her robe when Aurelia fell. “I couldn’t catch her before the fall, but there’s no one who has fallen from the cliff and ever returned... Alive,” he added.

Eretria accessed the piece of clothing in his hand. It no doubt belonged to her sister. “And her scent?”

“Lost. Gone without a trace. I believe she must be dead,” he reassured her.

“Fine, Greg. Whether or not she isn’t, Aurelia wouldn’t return, and if she did, she wouldn’t be as dumb as saying you attacked her.”

They nodded, their heads still lowering before them as they exited. Once they were alone, Eretria swept her gaze across to where Ryland stood.

“Get a grip on yourself, Ryland. Do not tell me you still care for that dead meat.”

Sensing the deadly aura emanating from her, Ryland gulped, fear striking at his core briefly. “No, I do not. It is you that my love belongs to. Come, let us get in for the night.”

********

Amidst the serene morning, rays of sunlight filtered through the thick foliage, casting a gentle glow upon the mini-forest.

Aurelia's eyes squinted against the golden hues, struggling to adjust her line of sight as she fought her way out of the tangled thicket of bushes. Each step was a battle against exhaustion and pain; her wobbly legs were proof of the ordeal she had just survived.

Having plummeted from a considerable height, Aurelia marvelled at her survival. She cast a pained glance upward, the memory of her fall echoing in the treetops as the image flashed before her eyes.

Shaking her head to clear the thoughts, she stepped forward and failed to avoid the stone in front of her. "Ouch!" Aurelia cried out, her ankle throbbing with every limping step she took forward.

Her once slightly dishevelled appearance, now marred by weariness and tatters, still she pressed on, determined to push through the pain.

It was better than the apparent death that awaited her, anyway.

As Aurelia stumbled, a faint trace of smoke snaked through the sky in the distance, drawing her attention like a beacon of hope.

With persistence, she forged ahead. However, due to her injuries, Aurelia’s strides grew weaker and her breathing more laboured.

As she neared a clearing, a figure caught her eye. Summoning the last vestiges of her strength, Aurelia raised her right hand, trying to grasp the blurry figure before her, and her voice, hoarse from the ordeal, called out for help.

"Ple... help,” she barely let out, but before she could utter another word, she kicked a pile of wood on the ground. Unable to withstand the pain coursing through her, her body betrayed her and she collapsed to the ground in sheer exhaustion.

At the loud sound of the thud behind her, the lady jolted in shock, turning around swiftly when she caught sight of the body that fainted.

In the fleeting moments before Aurelia succumbed to unconsciousness, her fading vision glimpsed a silhouette rushing towards her. A gasp fell off the lady’s lips before she crotched close to her, a single word escaping the approaching lips, "Princess."

The word hung in the air like a fragile thread, reaching Aurelia's ears before darkness enveloped her completely.

“Moon goddess, be praised. S-she’s been found," the lady stated in a low voice, to assure herself.

*********

By the next day, at noon, the news of the Lycan King’s arrival buzzed around the pack as everyone began preparing for a feast to be hosted that night.

Although he wasn’t marrying from the Alpha’s family, it was considered an honour that he chose to pick his bride from one of the top families in the pack.

In a regal, ornate living room, a fusion of elegance and primal aesthetics collided. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles, while the floor boasted elaborate patterns of interwoven animal skins—a display of their family’s affinity with nature and the hunt.

The air was laced with the scent of sandalwood and earthy tones which emanated from candles nestled in iron sconces.

Seated upon a carved leopard-skin chair, the Lycan King exuded an air of formidable power. The flickering firelight casting shadows across his features amplified his commanding presence within the space.

Shoulder-length waves of blonde hair framed his ruggedly handsome face, enhancing the piercing intensity of his gaze.

He wore a tailored outfit that merged sophistication and primal allure, consisting of a deep ebony tunic with intricate silver patterns, fitted pants, and sturdy leather boots that whispered of untamed strength.

"Where is my bride?" His soft voice reverberated through the room, carrying a weight that settled upon the couple seated before him like an insurmountable burden as his eyes pierced deep into them, like a predator hunting his prey.

Beside the older lady, Eretria stood adorned in an ethereal gown, a delicate ensemble of silk and lace that draped her slender form.

From the corners of her eyes, she stole glances at him, wishing he’d spare her a glance.

Her bashful demeanour radiated innocence, evident in the gentle flush that tinted her cheeks as she timidly met the Lycan King's gaze, hoping for approval and acceptance. But as the King's words dispelled any hope of recognition, her heart sank and disappointment clouded her features.

Shaken to the bone by those words, her mother, Lena, rose to her feet, held her daughter’s arm, and pushed her forward gently, like a sheep presenting its lamb.

“Your Majesty, here she is.”

If there was one thing the Lycan King was thankful for, it was the fact that they had sent a portrait of his bride before his arrival. With that, he was sure the lady in question wasn’t the one standing before him.

Staring at Eretria with eyes that seemed to bore into one’s flesh, the Lycan King enunciated, "She is not my bride."

The gravity of those words hung deeply in the air, shattering the fragile hope that had lingered in the room.

Lena's expression wavered between concern and dismay, realising the magnitude of the situation as her daughter's dreams collided with a bitter reality. On the other hand, the Lycan King's rejection echoed through the space, leaving an indelible mark on Eretria’s heart.

“But, King Sloan, she is the one. You are mistaking her.”

At once, Sloan arched a brow at Mr. Walter. “Are you insinuating I am blind?”

“N-No… I-I…” Walter stammered and shook his head. He knew how important this meeting was and how much the current Alpha looked towards such an alliance.

“Then…”

“I uh…” Walter, who would have been adamant about going on with Eretria's plan, had no choice but to look at his wife, hoping for some help in this situation.

Ever since they were informed this morning of Aurelia’s disappearance, he had thought she had run away. Unable to cancel the arrangement with the Lycan King, he went along with Eretria’s idea.

The deal he had was with the King's father, who he thought was a humble merchant and not Sloan himself. The man staring him down looked like a lion ready to pounce on his prey.

“I will not say it again. If you will not speak the truth, then I will be forced to end this arrangement right here, right now.”

Before Walter or Lena could respond to Sloan’s threat, Eretria fell on her knees and lowered her head before him with both hands brought forward graciously.

“Your Majesty, please pacify your anger. My parents never planned on enacting your wrath,” she pleaded, her voice still holding her charm.

To their shock, Sloan’s gaze lingered on Eretria longer than it had ever since his arrival. Taking the cue, Lena did the same.

“Forgive my parents. They meant no harm in deceiving Your Majesty.”

Ignoring her plea, he questioned, “Where is my bride?” 

Sloan's eyes narrowed as he waited for Eretria to cough out the answers. However, with the words he heard next, he could not have been prepared for them.

“Dead, Your Majesty.”

The look of shock registered in her parents' eyes did not bother Eretria as she lifted her head, her eyes catching the glimpse of shock in Sloan's eyes. Still, she went on to explain it.

“Eretria, h-how come? Why?” Lena asked after regaining her composure. “I thought she only ran away.”

“Father, Mother, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you, but the wolves I sent in search came back with a piece of clothing from the forest. Aurelia is gone, Mother. As such, I can only help fill her shoes and..."

“No,” he cut in sharply. His words were simple but absolute, leaving Eretria shocked beyond words.

Without saying much, Sloan rose to his feet, his anger burbling within him at being deceived. “If my bride is dead, then there will be no wedding.”